To Be King

Sitting cross-legged across from each other on the bed, knees touching, Racqein and Marisol ate in silence. The food was room temperature but still surprisingly good and filling. Every few bites Racqein glanced at the door but nothing ever changed.

“What about the window?” Marisol said suddenly, her voice so quiet that if they were sitting any farther apart he probably wouldn’t have heard her.

“It’s too small.”

Marisol moved a bit of porridge around with her spoon, “for you. Not for me.”

Racqein’s brows furrowed, “we’re three stories up.”

“There are some bushes below. They’ll break my fall.”

Racqein stared at her silently, “...no.”

Marisol tugged on one of her braids, accidentally pulling off her ribbon and frowning when the braid began to unravel. “Orfen might be bleeding out in a field, you already dislocated you shoulder... I just wanna do something to help.”

“What are you planning to do? Even if you land without snapping your ankles, what are you going to do? Are you going to fight the man guarding our room? Find Orfen all by yourself?”

Even though Racqein kept his tone even and quiet, tears still sprang to Marisol’s eyes and her bottom lip quivered. “You could help me plan instead of just rejecting my idea completely!”

Before Racqein could respond, there was a knock at the door. Both siblings turned their heads to stare at the locked door. After a few seconds of silence, there was another knock. “What?” Racqein asked flatly.

“Cat. Here.” Came the thickly accented voice through the door, the man clearly not as fluent in Takkorik as Paen or Issa.

The man’s attempts to communicate were followed up by a more familiar voice, “uh... Racqein, Marisol? Are you in there?”

*

Orfen took the opportunity to run. The minute the soldier’s sword hit the ground, he was off. The man swung his arm wildly at him and Orfen ducked to avoid his arm. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring the ache in his chest. Behind him he could hear the soldier shouting, “let go!”

Orfen wasn’t sure where he was going but he wasn’t going to waste his headstart. He took each turn decisively, not hesitating once. Perhaps he was aware enough when that girl was carrying him through the halls that he subconsciously memorized the path. All his quick decisions seemed to be the right ones and he soon found himself in the main part of the temple. A wide open room, lined with art and statues of the Ascendent Vasara. Cushions for kneeling and praying wee spread evenly across the floor, a few of them occupied even at this early morning hour.

Orfen came out of the hallways behind the podium that the Priestess would lead rituals and ceremonies from. And he directly faced the large double doors that led outside. He only paused to catch his breath for a second before running for them. He ripped the cloak off a temple-goer as he passed by, throwing an apology over his shoulder at their indignant, “hey!”

He burst out of the doors at full speed, taking a sharp turn and ducking into an alley to throw the cloak over himself once out of sight, only to run directly into a burly, dark-skinned Islander man holding dried fish.

He scowled at Orfen but when he saw Orfen’s ears, his eyes widened, “Orfen?”

Orfen frowned, resisting the urge to take a step back and into the main road. “Yeah...?”

The man pointed to a building in the distance and said, “Racqein, Marisol.”