By Caylah Coffeen

Zai kicked his door shut behind him, tossing the latest stack of wanted posters onto his already overflowing table. A small package caught his eye, and he groaned, flicking aside a note bearing his father’s handwriting. But the box was void of the usual unsolicited coin pouch.

He stared for a moment before spinning around. Two dark eyes met his from behind a heap of crates piled by the door. A wave of malevolence crashed over him as his bloodvoicing kicked in. Zai staggered back a step, catching the man’s next gleeful thought too late.

Snap.

A snare caught his ankle, yanking his feet from under him and hoisting him into the air. He yelped.

“Well, well,” said a lazy voice. “Zaivar Witz.”

“Zane?” he gasped, flailing his arms to stop spinning. “I distinctly recall-” He fought to catch his breath. “-delivering you to prison.”

“Good.” Zane punched him viciously in the gut. “I remember it distinctly too.”

Pain tore through Zai’s torso, his scream sputtering into a gasping whimper as he choked out all his air.

Zane snickered. “Unfortunate you seem to have spent my bounty already.” He glared at the sheaf of bounty notices Zai had just deposited on the table. “And dear Daddy’s gift doesn’t cover my inconveniences.” He tossed the missing money pouch into the air and caught it with a soft clink.

Zai opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The cord dug into his ankle, and a strange panic built in his chest that had nothing to do with the punch.

“And you took something of mine,” Zane added softly, crouching down to meet Zai’s eyes. The proximity heightened Zai’s bloodvoicing, sending another rush of rage and violent intent through Zai’s pounding skull. Useful insight, that.

Zane gestured past the general chaos that was his living quarters. Behind the table, Zai had tacked old wanted posters into the wall along with… souvenirs. A carved jasper belt buckle from that Poroo assassin. A mini spyglass that had belonged to a Chuman serial horse thief—unfortunately cracked in the apprehending.

“I don’t see mine among your trophies.”

Zai swallowed hard. “That’s because, um, I don’t have it anymore.”

“Really?” Zane drew a knife. “Seems to me like an enchanted grappling hook would be pretty useful in your line of work.”

Zai fixated on the glinting point as it drifted near his face. “Yes, uh, my brother thought so too… which is why he ‘confiscated’ it.”

Zane lifted an eyebrow.

“He doesn’t approve of my line of work, you see. My housekeeper let him in.” Zai was babbling, thoughts racing through escape possibilities. “I may have been behind on paying her wages. Which he may have rectified.”

A flash of pain blinded Zai as Zane embedded the knife into his forearm.

“I can get it back! I’ll get it!” he screamed.

***

Sweat poured down Zai’s back as he nodded stiffly to the guards before the left wing of the castle. They knew him. His brother was the prince’s chamberlain after all. Zane strolled in beside him, hand close to his knife, disguised passably as one of his brother’s servants.

“I could get used to this,” Zane said in amazement, pulling at his fake beard. “No wonder you catch so many of us.”

Zai glared up at him, ushering him toward his brother’s chambers, which were, of course, locked. Zane flashed a wicked grin as he pulled out a lock pick. Alarmingly soon, the lock popped open, and they were inside, Zane’s eyes glittering at the wealth on display.

“I’ll have to search for it,” Zai muttered, rushing to the nearest wardrobe and tearing through his brother’s absurdly organized belongings. He moved to a large chest next. A golden dish had vanished from the table. Zane’s satchel bulged suspiciously.

“What are you doing?”

Zane looked at him incredulously. “I’m a thief.”

Should he yell? Would the guards hear him in time? Zane seemed to sense his thoughts, for his hand grasped his dagger hilt.

“Way I see it,” he whispered, “if this little gig earns me twice the bounty you got off me, I’ll call us about even. If not…” Zane slashed a finger across his throat.

Right. Zai rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants and turned back to rummaging.

“Found it!” He exclaimed.

“Zaivar?”

He spun toward the door, shocked to see his brother frowning at him. “Uh, Ryn…” He laughed uneasily as Ryn’s eyes flicked down to the harness and grappling kit in his hands. No, at the blood soaking through his makeshift bandage.

Ryn’s brow furrowed, and he strode forward.

“Wait!” Zai cried, but Zane was already moving. Zai caught his dark eyes, and with them, a flash of warning.

Zai tackled his brother to the ground, the dagger spinning overhead. Zane tore the grappling kit from his hands and dashed toward the balcony at the end of the suite.

“No!” Zai charged after him, seizing the sack tied around Zane’s waist as he flung himself over the edge. Zai toppled after him.

With a snap, Zane activated the grappling hook. The cord soared in a magically perfect arc to latch onto the balcony above them, jolting them to a stop two stories above ground. Zane cursed, kicking at Zai as he clung to his waist.

“Zaivar, here!” Ryn was leaning over the railing, reaching out for him.

No! Zai struggled, trying to reach the ledge himself.

“Zai!” his brother cried in exasperation.

Cursing, Zai caught his brother’s hand, allowing him to drag him to safety. He heard the line let out, then with a scrape, the hook magically detached itself from the rail. Zai turned to see Zane dashing across the grounds. Zai flopped onto the ground with a wild laugh, lifting Zane’s satchel.

“At least I don’t owe you money!”

Ryn huffed.

“Still, I don’t suppose you’ll secure a hefty bounty for our thief?”

Ryn sighed, then smiled grudgingly. “Just for you.”

Zai laughed. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caylah Coffeen has been creating stories since she was old enough to chase her six siblings around with a toy lightsaber. Sci-fi, fantasy, and mythology sparked her love of reading and the creation of her own worlds (which she hopes will submit to becoming novels already). Caylah has worked with Monster Ivy Publishing and Eschler Editing and now reviews books and helps indie authors achieve their dreams through her startup Creative Cornerstones.

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