Title!

First Chapter
Second Chapter
Third Chapter
Fourth Chapter



Tom paled. This was grander than he thought. He had assumed the fire would have been the work of a lone troublemaker's work, someone with misplaced blame on their misfortune. But the fact that someone would try to kill Qirmizi's leader, that someone would actually succeed in killing the Emir...this meant something entirely different. It meant that someone, a rich man, hired an official assassin to kill the Emir. The only person with the means and audacity to do that would be a king.


And that meant there would be war.



When Tom reached the neighborhood Alisha had been, his mood became sour. It was already dark now. She had either run before the fire and now was lost in the crowd that had been running from the fire or she had been taken by kidnappers, slavers, or royal guards. Tom frowned. So it was unlikely she was safe. He glanced at his hands bitterly.

"So the curse is real... that's the one thing I can be sure of," Tom muttered. He stumbled into the house and rubbed the bruise on his stomach, cursing the guards of Qirmizi. Though, with what happened today, they would need us much luck as they could get. No wonder the captain had ran away from the cell in such a hurry and had let out all the prisoners. And that's why he would soon be without his head...

"Tom?" A small whimper came from the corner.

Tom froze in fear for a moment, before recognizing it was Alisha. "Miss!" he cried and walked blindly over to where her voice came from. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he spotted her curled up as far into the corner as possible. When he came near, she flung her arms around Tom's neck.

"Tom!" she sobbed, crying into him immediately. Tom shivered and tried not to push away. She wasn't going to hurt him. She couldn't even if she wanted to, but she probably did.

"I- I'm sorry. I would have checked in on you if I could have, Miss." Tom said quietly to her.

Alisha shook and tears flowed steadily down her face. "What happened, Tom? People were screamng! The noise of it all... it was awful, Tom!"

Tom nodded. "I'm sorry." He was surprised she was still here, but relieved. Nothing would happen to her, and now he had no worries about him not being around. He had nothing to do. No person in their right mind would take a slave as their apprentice, especially not one who had just escaped prison. And if they only knew the extent of it. If Alisha knew the extent of it. Tom frowned at the thought. She trusted him, stupid girl, and he had to help her now. As he looked down at her, crying as she pressed her head against his chest, he wondered if he had gone mad. On the way to Qirmizi, it was possible. Too much exposure to the sun. Many men and women had fallen to it. They would imagine things and talk nonsense, before being exiled by their family. Tom had no family, but he certainly wouldn't be getting a new master.

Tom almost swore, catching himself before Alisha heard. He couldn't imagine the king's anger when his daughter was returned, but not as the innocent thing as she was before. But now Tom could never get hired again as a slave. Tom shuddered. he would be that man Alisha was scared of, the one with no hands. Tom just had two, cursed hands. What was better? Freedom and satisfaction. That's all Tom wanted in life, nothing more, and that's all he couldn't have.

Alisha had stopped crying, so Tom gently pushed her away. She sniffed and stared up at him. "Do you have a handkerchief?" she inquired.

Tom blushed and shook his head. No slave would have that except the king's official nose blower, and nothing but royal mucus would be allowed to touch it. But Tom mused bitterly, Alisha would be able to use the handkerchief. Even Alisha was now lacking hers though, due to her position. Her normal, elegant dresses and outfits Tom imagined she would have had obviously been taken by the kidnappers, leaving her only with a slave's dress, which was neither flattering nor clean. She still wore a rough pair of flats that once were fit for a princess, but no longer maintained a sense of grace and money.

As Tom examined Alisha in her pauper's clothing, it gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction, while the sense completely appaled another part of him. He felt so proud that someone of such high stature could be so quickly be brought down to his level. Maybe, just maybe, the opposite could happen to him. He really didn't need to be in a palace or court, but a nice house, with a few slaves of his own... that would be perfect.

Alisha began crying quietly again, moving back to bury her head in him. Tom frowned. This wasn't his job, so why was he doing it? He really didn't know. Alisha? He knew next to nothing about her. For fame? He was a slave. Anyone would see it as Tom doing his duty. For the money? Again, he wasn't going to get any of it. No one would care to see him rewarded. Plus, when they arrived to wherever they were going, Alisha would once again be locked up in her room, staying unknowing forever.

Yes, that might be why he was doing it. Maybe he was interested in how a human could be so stupid in the ways of the world, and he wanted to show that Alisha that the world was an evil, cruel place. Tom completely believed seeing all this would help her somehow. He wouldn't tell her his past or take her to a tavern in the middle of the night, but if he could just make her understand the world they lived it. How it hurt. How it was selfish. How it enjoyed others' pain and was only happy with seeing the helpless in pain. Tom's parents hadn't done anything to deserve their misfortunes. And yet, they had been taken from Tom anyway.

And Tom, Tom was only trying to live. He had no food; he was forced to steal. Masters beat him; he had to run away. And his other secret... That had never been branded on him, because the only scar he would recieve from that would have been the cuts from the noose. It had been self preservation. He hadn't meant to. Right? There had to be a difference between the two.

"Where were you, Tom?" Alisha whispered.

Tom frowned. "I was trying to come, Miss. There was a big fire at the Emir's palace."

"A fire?" Alisha sniffed. "Was anyone hurt?"

"The Emir died." Tom said quietly.

Alisha gasped. "Oh no! Who is going to lead the town?"

Tom shrugged. "A new leader will be chosen. The town will be unsettled for a while, but if it is a good Emir, the city will be settled soon."

"And if it isn't?" she asked, scooting back on the sack bed and lying down.

"Then Qirmizi will have a rough future."

Alisha nodded and her eyes closed. "Tom?" she said, half asleep.

Tom watched her. "Yes, Miss?" But she had already slipped into the realm of dreams. Tom stood and walked over to the doorway. He leaned against the wall and stared into the night. He wouldn't let himself sleep, not with the city in such a state. It would be a long night, even though it had already began. He bid his time counting the stars and wondering what his cursed life had ready to throw at him next.