Thief of the Palace

They say greed knows no bounds.

That couldn’t be more true.

I’m running through an alley, legs beating against the stone as the jewels jingle in my grasp. The whistles cloak my ears, surrounding myself in the knowledge that if I don’t speed up, I’ll get caught.

“Stop him!” They yell, "Thief! Thief of the palace!”

Thief of the palace. It has a bell to it. Yes, that is what they shall know me as. The one and only thief that terrorizes them. That steals without care, and gives to none. What I have is mine. And I don’t share.

Weaving, rounding, turning, shifting, lounging, moving, bolting. They can’t keep up, and they never shall. I raise my free hand to my lips, then whistle. There’s a mighty sound, coming from a mighty beast. The second I break from the town square, there, on the side of the cobblestone road, stands my beast. Thorn. A jet black horse three heads taller than myself. With a mighty, silky hide, and a mane like feathers. He lowers his front legs, and I jump onto his back, landing firmly down.

He starts to run, his legs making fast work of the path out of town.

With one glance back, the guards have stopped, seething. With a grin, I look back forward, and the rest of the ride is quiet.

There, in the middle of the thick forest, stands the hut. A calm, gentle hut with vines crawling up the sides. Thorn kneels, and I slide off of his back, patting his neck and allowing him to roam. I tuck the jewels into a barrel outside, sealing it tightly.

Then, there’s a gasp, and little arms wrap around my legs. “Daddy!” I look back to find my little girl, Meadow, hugging my legs tightly. I chuckle, then lean down and pick her up. I swing her in the air before bringing her close. I kiss her forehead, and she giggles. “What took you s-so long!? You said you’d be back by midday! It’s midafta’noon!”

I shake my head and chuckle, then carry her back towards the door. “Something in town held me back, my little meadow rat.”

She pouts, but still wraps her little arms around my neck. “Fine.”

Reaching the door, I open it. The aroma fills my nose in a luxurious scent. Chicken soup. A smile stretches my lips as I step further inside, closing the door behind me.

“Asher? Is that you?” Her voice, like a melody in my ears, comes from the small kitchen. I walk over, Meadow still in my arms. I enter the archway into the kitchen, where she is. Small beads of sweat dot her forehead, as she sits over the stove, the flame under the pot. She looks over her shoulder, and smiles sweetly. “Took you long enough to get home.”

“I know, Balara.” I walk over, and she meets me halfway. I lean down and kiss her, Meadow gagging dramatically. I chuckle, pulling back after a moment. Balara reaches out and takes Meadow from my arms, holding her up before settling her on her hip.

My family, my pride, my joy, my strength.

“What held you?” She asks with that smile of gold.

“The guards had… questions for me.” I lied, he was terrible at lying, but she was also extremely gullible.

She nods sweetly. “Alright, love.” She sets Meadow down, and she rushes off towards her room, leaving them in silence. Balara goes back towards the stove, stirring the thick, clumpy soup.

I stand in the middle of the kitchen, contemplating whether to tell her the truth or not. I was scared, scared she would reject me, push me away, take Meadow and leave. So, I didn’t. I never could. I would keep up the ‘respectful husband’ act until I died. She didn’t deserve to know how we kept the food on the table.

So instead, I walk up behind her, put my hands on her hip, and my chin on her shoulder. I watch her hands as they spin the savory soup with the large ladle. Little clumps of chicken and vegetables floated around in the salty broth.

“Are you alright my dear?” She asked with a voice of velvet. “You seem quiet.” Her head tilted to lean against mine, a comforting weight.

“Yeah. This makes me feel better.” I didn’t lie about that part. I would never lie about anything she desired to hear.

She sets the ladle aside, then turns around slowly to face me. I straighten back out. Her hands land on my shoulders, and she starts swaying. For a moment, I don’t understand what she’s doing, then the memory floods back.

The day we met. At the Gala. As far as she knows, I was there for a good time, which wasn’t completely wrong. Able to blend in, I saw her for the first time. Her curly black hair, which reaches down to her rump in length, her curvy sides only highlighted by her velvet black dress.I had gathered the courage to take her arm and lead her onto the dance floor. The world around me fell quiet, and it was only us. Only her.

We spent the rest of the Gala together, chatting, laughing.

Near the end of the night, she told me that she lived with her father, a farmer, an old, poor man, but willing to spend their little money on whatever she needed. Then and there, I made her a promise. She would never have to struggle for anything ever. Even after her father died.

From that night, they just clicked. And two years later, I was on one knee, asking her the question of love.

The best years of my life have always been with her at my side.

I place my hands on her waist as we continue the gentle dance. She spins, and I take her back stable. She dips, and I pull her back up. She steps away, and I pull her back to me. She lets go, and I grab her back. The small kitchen became the ball room all those years ago, her laugh covering my ears like blankets.

She abruptly stops, and I do too. She turns around, then rushes towards the pot. The bubbles are screaming as they boil over. A chuckle escapes my throat as I slowly walk behind her.

“Don’t laugh at me, boy.” She grumbles as she moves the pot and extinguishes the fire underneath.

The bubbling pot calms where it now sits on the counter, and she grabs a rag and carefully cleans the still hot stove.

“Did mama burn the sop?” I turn my head to see Meadow there, peeking around the corner of the door, staring calmly at me. She couldn’t pronounce certain words, which is utterly adorable.

“Soup, and no. It’s difficult to burn soup, little meadow rat.” She thinks for a moment, then walks up to my legs, looking up at me.

“Do you think I’m going to be a good ma, papa?”

The question was so out of the blue, it took me a moment to respond. I kneel down to her level, smiling gently. “My dear, you will be the best mother. You will be so good, you might even be better than your mother.”

She laughs, and I reach out and pull her up into my arms as I stand. “Papa, that’s impossible!”

I look over my shoulder at Balara, whose eyes hold nothing but joy. I walk over, and she reaches out and pecks a kiss onto Meadow’s cheek. She giggles, then wraps her arms around her neck. Balara takes her, holding her firmly on her hip as she goes back to the stove.

“One day, I think I’ll get married to a ric’ man, with a big fancy house and a-a thousand horses for me to ride! And he’ll be, uh… two years older than me! He’ll love me a-and give me whatever I want. We’ll have a perfect daughter! And I’ll name her… A-ash… A-ashara! See? I mixed my two favorite people’s names! And she’ll love the color pink, and she’ll have bright blue eyes like mama’s! I can’t wait to have kids! I can’t wait for…”

“Do you think we’re raising her wrong?” Balara, sitting at her vanity asks as she combs through her hair.

The question is odd, “No. Why?”

“She’s planning so far ahead, and if she focuses too much on it then she’ll start to believe in what she wanted, and then she’ll miss her opportunity to love what she has, and then she’ll hate her life when it doesn’t work out, then she’ll run into problems, and then-”

“Balara.” The single word stops her rambling, and she looks at me through the mirror. I stand from the bed, then walk behind her. I grab the brush from her clenched grasp, and comb through her curly hair. “Every child does this. Especially at her age. She’ll start to understand reality with time.” I lean down and kiss her temple, “You’re doing great.”

With a heavy sigh, she relaxes her shoulders and puts her chin to her chest, allowing me more access to her hair. “Thanks, Ash…”

“Anytime.”

Once I finish, I grab her hair remedies, and comb them through. They make the curls silky and get rid of frizz. She made them herself in her hours alone in this hut. Then, she stands and we lay down.

I lay with my back to her, eyes already closing.

“Asher?”

I force my neck to turn as I look at her from the corner of my eye. She’s laying on her back, eyes to the ceiling, hands over her stomach. “Balara?”

“Have you put any thought into…” She drifts off, still not looking at me. I turn to face her, perched up on one elbow to look into her eyes.

“No, I have put no thought into nothing.” I joke, making her glare at me.

She sits up, eyes deep blue crystals that relay emotions plainly. “Into giving Meadow a… sibling.”

Silence stretches for all too long, and the words sit there. The conversation shouldn’t be awkward, but just my luck, it is. “I-I have…”

“And?”

I didn’t know what to say, yes I had, and I he wanted it, but that would mean stealing more, gaining more, and a higher chance of getting caught. I didn’t want to risk my money in order for another blessing. “D-do you think you could handle another child?”

“With you at my side, I could handle anything.”

She’s far too loyal for her own good.

With a sigh, I lay back down, wrap my arms around her waist, and pull her to my chest. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Screaming. Such a formidable sound. That is until I realize who is screaming. Both me and Balara are awake in seconds, jolting out of our sheets. Balara is at the door and throws it open. I rush behind her, as she sprints down the hallway to the source of the high-pitched screaming. I overtake her just in time to kick down Meadow’s bedroom door. Inside, a man in shining silver and gold armor holds Meadow afloat by her shoulders, while another man brutally, slowly, twists her legs, hands spinning in the opposite directions.

I’m suddenly on top of the man, and he fights back just as hard. Balara is behind me, attempting to free our daughter.

The man gains the upper hand, punching me across the jaw. Tears gather in my eyes, and I can’t escape before he stands, dragging me with him. He hoists me up, then locks his arm around my throat from behind, holding me still.

I force my head to turn to the other side, where the other guard stands, holding tightly onto Balara’s arm. She’s holding Meadow, who is crying and trying her best to not seem scared–she’s bad at it though.

I’m forced to look back towards the door, where an evil-looking man stands, eyes seeking more than what he has. “Ah, thief of the palace.” He looks over to my girls, “I see you’ve been busy.” He walks over and takes Balara by the chin.

“Don’t touch-” A slap stops my words, right across my cheek. The guard holding me is impressive.

While standing there, he looks at me, then speaks with a nasty grin. “Where are they, Thief?”

I clench my jaw. I won’t tell, I won’t admit it.

His hand goes to Balara’s hip, and further back, where I can’t see. “Where? Or else.”

Balara is extremely uncomfortable, visibly wanting to fight back. My fists clench, and a strangled sound escapes my throat. “Fine! Just stop.”

He steps away, grinning victoriously. “Where are they?”

“The barrel. Outside. Take them and leave…” I look down, wanting to cry my eyes out.

“Good boy.” He pats my shoulder, then the guard holding me tosses me down, and the other does the same to my girls.

They leave, and I hear them rustle off the top of the barrel with a snap, and then, they’re gone.

Balara goes to Meadow, cooing at her as she wails loudly. I crawl over, looking at her leg, which is vividly swollen and red. “Asher, go get some wrap.”

I stand, rushing out. The rest of the hut seems untouched, which is somewhat good. I go to the kitchen and throw open the cabinet door. I toss whatever’s in my way out of it, then finally find that roll of cast. I rush back to find that Balara has moved Meadow to our bedroom. I throw her to the roll, and she carefully, yet quickly, wraps up Meadow’s leg.

My heart hurts. Not only did he hurt my only daughter, but he also told everything out loud. I could pray she didn’t listen. I could pray she didn’t care, but I know, under those crystal eyes, she knew.

Meadow is lying on the bed, screaming in tears as Balara tightly wraps her leg. I walk up to her other side and let her little hands grab onto my own.

These two women. My only weaknesses. A broken leg, a broken heart. It all hurts.

Another hour passes. Meadow is asleep, and Balara is glaring at me. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Whenever it was important,” I answered, head down.

“You put our daughter in danger! If you had told me-”

“What? What could you have done?” She hesitates, so I continue, “If I told you, Balara, nothing would have changed. They would have come sooner. They would’ve done more damage.”

“I’m your wife.” She says while seething, “You promised to tell me everything.”

“I promised to tell you what you needed.”

Her fists clench. “For the future of our daughter and our family, no more secrets.” She turns, anger steaming off of her as she lies on the right side of Meadow, leaving me on the far left.

I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed. With a sigh, I lay back, staring at the ceiling. “I love you,” I whisper, and after a long moment, Balara whispers an acknowledgement, so quiet I don’t know what she says.

I roll over, my back to them.

Shut the window, lock it. Grab a bag, keep it. Wear black clothing proudly.

I push her hair behind her ear, then lean down and kiss her cheek.

I lay my daughter's favorite toy on her chest.

I leave, closing the door with a click of the lock.

I find Thorn, mounting him.

I leave the house, no lights on.

I clean my blade of the blood of my only two loved ones.

My only weaknesses.