Page 16 of Glass Hearts
Arabella
“It’s so weird. Since the ball, I have had this weird feeling like someone has been watching me and following me. And the way Valak looked panicked last night… I’m kind of worried. Maybe it’s all just in my head. Everything seemed to almost go over too smoothly,” I confide to Princess Buttercup the third, my neighbour’s daughter’s cat, who is perched on my windowsill looking quite bored. My other familiars are busy helping me with my chores as I bake another pie for them. One apple and the other a weird mix of apples, broccoli, and chocolate. The last one is for my raccoons, Seeter and Skip, by special request. I learned long ago not to question their particular weird tastes with the ingredients they like to provide.
“I don’t care. I noticed one of your raccoons on my lawn the other day. See that they keep their grubby little paws on your side of the fence. Poor Alice had her chocolate stolen by those greedy trash pandas. Also, as for your problem, it is probably all in your head. You are not that important or special.”
I nod and try to angle myself in front of the rubbish bin to hide the empty chocolate wrappers as she scampers back to her side of the fence.
Leave it to a cat to give you straightforward, brutal advice.
“Nice talking to you, too,” I mutter to myself.
The stepfamily is out shopping today; they seem to think they will be chosen in the next step of courtship with the Princes. So, of course, that called for more spending on my deceased dad’scoin. God forbid they wear the same dresses every once in and while. They send me to drop off their clothes to get incinerated when their closet reaches max capacity. Of course, instead of bringing it to the burn house, I donate the material either to Lo or to the community shelters.
My favourite time is when they are out of the house, and there aren’t too many chores. Bernice seemed too busy to delegate many tasks to me today. After placing my pies in the oven, I look at the loot I have acquired in the last few days. The gold dagger is already serving its purpose, plus it’s just downright pretty.
No clue if I was holding it up in the correct manner to the doctor’s throat last night… but it felt right. Just like my bow and arrows Valak gave me when I first started stealing, it’s for show. I would rather not fight if I don’t have to.
The doctor wore two golden rings, and his watch is a nice timepiece that should fetch me a lovely sum. I also have a few other jewelry pieces we snatched from the ball to get pawned. The princes’ glass pendants, shaped almost like hearts, sit in a velvet pouch off to the side. Kip & Bert had been right. They give off a weird energy. Magic perhaps? If so, they could sell for quite a hefty price if they are infused with magic.
Seeing as I have no targets tonight, I figure it’s a great time to head to Oliver’s and see just how well I profited the past few days.
* * *
I don my Shadow attire and slink into the night. Deciding to leave Kip and Bert at home. Mice need breaks, too. Plus, I am pretty sure they have overindulged in that pie. Their tiny tactical gear may have been a bit too snug. I pull my hood over my head,while readjusting my bandana to fit a tad higher up my nose as I enter Harsekeep.
The streets are busy on a Friday evening, and everyone is all smiles as I walk on by. I still can’t shake the feeling that I am being watched as I continue on my way to Oliver’s shop.
Oliver ownsHoot for Loot, a pawnshop that is by the books, legal, though it is known to sell stolen and illegal contraband. Among other nefarious things.
Oliver is a shifter. When he is not in his human form, he can shift into a badger, but he can also shift into an owl. He favours his owl.
His clientele are some victims of the Shadow. Looking to buy back their stolen jewels. Sometimes I feel bad, but then I remember that they didn’t build their wealth upon ethics. Which means I can still sleep like a baby at night. The enforcers have tried to get him to give me up, but he always has my back. You can’t imprison a shadow after all.
“Evenin’, Shadow, what goodies have you brought me today?” The older gentleman has bushy white eyebrows and a full matching white beard. He embodies a classic grandpa archetype, until you note the many aged tattoos that cover his weathered, wrinkled skin.
“I have a few jewelry pieces for you to look at. Especially these.” I hand him the four pendants in the velvet pouch, along with my other items for appraisal.
“Oh my, little one. You must return these immediately. I cannot sell these. The enforcers can do worse things than imprison you for stealing these!”
My stomach drops. I now wish I hadn’t had a second helping of pie. “Wh-what do you mean, Oliver?”
“These aren’t jewels, my dear. This is pure magic. Magic specifically from each isle. The heirs to the throne do not have complete access or connection to their power from their landswithout these pieces—well, until they can become kings, that is. Nobody can wield the magic within them, except the princes. In a way, you stole a piece of each prince. Little one, how on earth did you gain these?!”
“Well, shit.” That’s all I can muster. The reality of my situation sinks in. In essence, they are worthless pieces of glass that contain magic, tied to each prince and his isle. And the power-hungry enforcers would be more than happy to cut off the head that holds onto these pieces.
I stole a piece of each prince; that is just peachy.
Oliver quickly places them back into the pouch as a tall patron walks through the door. He is wearing all black, and I don’t quite catch his face as he stalks over to the corner.
“I am going to pretend I never saw those. Find a way to get them back before more trouble befalls you,” Oliver whispers to me as he hands the pouch back. “I can give you eight hundred gold coins for the remaining pieces, yes?”
All I can do is nod.And try not to panic. He processes all the pieces while the other patron is looking about the store. Something feels menacing yet familiar about the man, and I am not sure why.
“Here you go, dear,” Oliver says, handing me the gold pouch. “Please be careful. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Neither would we,” a familiar deep voice says from beside me, putting his large hand on my shoulder. Oliver gasps as I look to the tall man who was previously just stalking around the shop.
“Prince Sylas. I-” I spot the other three princes looking into the window of the shop. Can’t just run out of this one.
