Episode 2 The Bride and the Breakdown
1146 Words
Kaelen continued his easy stroll down the sun-bleached lanes of Aru’Shenu, kicking a pebble as he walked, like he had all the time in the world.
And technically, he did.
Only one job left today; and it wasn’t even a proper job.
More like a “help me with this one weird thing” type of task. Those were his favorites. Usually harmless. Usually hilarious.
Usually it didn't end without him running for his life. Usually.
To most folks weaving through the market traffic—traders barking prices, kids weaving between carts like darting fish, hawkers advertising miracle elixirs made from suspiciously unlabeled roots;
Kaelen ir’Saharu was just another guy blending into the crowd. A background character in someone else’s story.
And that’s how he liked it. He wasn’t the kind of man whose name was whispered in back alleys or scrawled across wanted posters.
Kaelen played in the gray. Not noble enough to attend a gala, not roguish enough to land in a dungeon.
He’d pick a lock, sure; but only if the door was being stubborn.
He’d pinch a coin purse; but mostly just for the thrill of seeing if he could. He drew the line at blood. The day he took a life would be the day he gave up the game.
He ducked under a sagging laundry line, sidestepped a goat wearing someone’s half-knitted sweater, and scanned the crowd.
His contact was supposed to meet him near the spice corner of the old district. “Mature woman, mature face,” the job note had said.
So naturally, the woman who waved him down looked barely twenty. Maybe. And had the exact expression of someone who just realized their favorite street meat vendor was out of sauce
.“Excuse me, miss,” Kaelen said, lifting his hand halfway like he was unsure if she was real or part of a mirage. “Would you happen to know where I can find one, Miss Saltana? Mature woman. Mature face.”
The lady narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying I look like a joke?”
Kaelen paused. Tilted his head. Blinked once. Twice. Then offered the exact look of a man already deep in regret. “I never said that,” he replied slowly, like each word had to be inspected for landmines.
“But you implied it,” she shot back, arms crossed, one brow doing acrobatics across her forehead.
She had the kind of face that made people underestimate her. Big eyes, pouty lips, and a smattering of freckles that looked almost too innocent.
But that stare? That stare had murdered egos and burned down self-confidence with nothing but a squint. Kaelen just stood there. Motionless. Watching her. Not even blinking this time.
Like a man watching a drama unfold from a front-row seat with popcorn in hand and a mental note that said, Don’t engage; this is a trap.
She noticed. And turned crimson.
“I’m Saltana,” she mumbled, suddenly fascinated by her own shoes. “The mature woman. That’s me.”
Kaelen’s face didn’t change. “Great. Can we skip the dramatics and get to the part where I do something borderline illegal for coin?”
“You’re not going to act surprised?” she asked, still red-cheeked
.“Nope.”
“But... I thought you’d be like, ‘Oh! You’re Saltana?!’ and do that whole big gasp thing. Or at least blink in astonishment.”
“Already blinked. Twice. That’s all you get.”
She huffed.
“Fine. I overestimated the drama.” He nodded. “Happens to the best of us.”
“Okay,” she straightened, suddenly all business. “So, you got my letter?”
“Big errand, no murder, handsome pay,” Kaelen recited. “I'm all ears.”
“I want you to kidnap me before a wedding.”
Kaelen blinked. Again.
He looked slightly to his left, as if checking whether there was an easier universe nearby he could teleport into.
“Whose wedding?”
“Mine. I just said that.”
“Right. And... you want me to kidnap you? From your own wedding?”
“Minutes before the ceremony,” she confirmed with the kind of calm that only the truly unhinged possessed.
“And don’t ask why. I have my reasons. Just do it. You’ll be paid more than fairly.”
Kaelen stared at her like she had just asked him to juggle flaming chickens while wearing nothing but socks.
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
“You know you could just run away.”
“But then it’s not dramatic,” she said and gave him a look like duh.
Kaelen sighed. “Sure. Fine. Whatever. I’ll kidnap the bride.”
“Great. So we have a deal, Mr. Errand Guy?”
He forced a smile. “Delighted.” Of course, he didn’t ask about the risks. He never asked about the risks.
Mostly because experience had taught him two things: One, if you had to ask, the answer was already bad.
And two, if a beautiful woman wanted to pay you to kidnap her from her own wedding, there was no version of the story where it ended with "and then everything went smoothly."
Back at the house, Zaria stood by the door with her neck craned out like a giraffe scanning for predators; or, more accurately, for a certain lovable i***t she’d married.
It had only been a few hours, but to her it felt like days. Maybe weeks. She missed the clatter of him coming home, the way he always forgot to dust his boots before stepping on her clean floor, and the way his smile made her furious and soft at the same time.
She wasn’t worried, not really. Kaelen could take on two, maybe three thugs barehanded if needed. Four, if they were drunk.
And if they had swords? Well... he’d charm them into giving them away first.
Still, she stood there. Not because she feared something had happened; but because she liked watching for him.
Like some silly, love-struck girl in a ballad. And somewhere between her tenth glance down the alley and her fifth muttered curse about him being late again…
And as if on cue—
Somewhere far across the city, a horn blasted. Not a celebratory one. A war horn.
Urgent.
Jagged.
A warning.
Zaria’s eyes narrowed.
Back near the fountain, Kaelen looked up, eyes scanning the rooftops.
“Was that for you or me?” he asked aloud.
Saltana blinked. “...Both, maybe?”
From the top of the nearest building, a shadow leapt across the sky; black cloak, twin blades, eyes glowing like desert coals.
Kaelen didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Saltana’s wrist and muttered, “Well, looks like the wedding’s getting canceled early.”
Steel clashed with stone behind him.
The hunt had begun.
- Writer
