God damn it all, she curses to herself.

The one night she decides to escape, and she gets captured by this …brute! She swears if she was in her right mind, she would march this thief back home and demand the palace guards arrest him. That fantasy of hers would get her through this travesty. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to escape without getting noticed…

Except when he traverses through a wooden path that nobody would take. Rumours of monsters and …giant spiders… lied beyond the branches. Cordelia was terrified of spiders.

<You are not going through that path.> She scolds him. <There are giant spiders in there!>

<God, keep your voice down and there won’t be.> He grumbles. <How on earth would there be giant spiders in a gated kingdom?>

<Spiders can climb.> She huffs.

He ignores her as he proceeds along the dirt path.

She raises her voice. <You’re not getting out of here unless we go through the gate—when they’ll catch your sorry behind.> He doesn’t respond. Whether it’s due to his inattention, or that he chose to ignore her, was only her guess. Damn him.

Cordelia stiffens when he lifts her off of his shoulder, her ankles feel wobbly as she positions herself upward. To her surprise, a crack in the wall is revealed, showcasing the harbourfront and ocean ahead. Not big enough for giant spiders to travel through, only creatures with two feet ...such as this thief she was travelling with.

<What? I thought our kingdom was impregnable?> She speaks with surprise. <Why on earth would anyone leave a crack in the wall?>

<Does it matter?> He says in impatience. <Just step through and we’ll be on our way.> His grip tightens on he wrist as he pulls her through the opening.

<Ow!> She says in detest. <Don’t pull me so hard!>

<I didn’t. Don’t be dramatic.> He huffs.

<You did.> There was no need to be so rough with her, but she leaves the complaint there. She keeps to her plan—she wouldn’t upset him to the point where he might get aggressive, or worse. Staying alive was the most important thing.

He pulls her to the harbourfront, away from the kingdom that Cordelia was raised in. The soft splashes of the waves trickle in her ears, bringing a sense of solace to the night. It was quiet for the most part—but the celebrations from before could be heard beyond the castle gates. Even if she screamed, it’s not like anyone would hear her. They were all too busy gallivanting—celebrating the princess' departure after all. She humphs—maybe she should get on that dinky little boat of his.

<Get on.> He crosses his arms, lowering his presumed violet gaze. She throws her hood over her head as she stares at his miniature vessel. He lowers his voice as his hand gropes her rear, pushing her towards the edge of the dock. The absolute coward of a man, how dare he take advantage of her while in her current state! She ignores the swirl of delight in her gut—the contact was highly inappropriate, but what could she expect of an ill-mannered thief? Cordelia had to remind herself—she had a bit of the drink, but she had standards. No simple touch would sully her thoughts.

<Didn’t you see I was more than willing to abide by your request? You didn’t have to add that crude action.>

<I was merely helping you along.> He shrugs. <The sooner you get in, the sooner we can make a move on.>

<Now why are you in such a hurry?> The drink encourages her to speak her thoughts. <Afraid that you’ll get caught after all?>

<What do I have to be afraid of?> She can hear his grin. <I’m not the one bound by my wrists.>

<You’ll have to do more than tie me up to intimidate me.> She regrets her words as soon as she speaks them. God, what a thing to say to a thief—that was asking for trouble. Speaking her mind might have gotten her somewhere with her family, even if seldom, but at least her life wasn’t potentially at risk.

She hears a heavy long drawn out sigh before he scoops her up, propelling them both onto the boat. It was a dangerous, calculated step but he managed to execute it perfectly. She breathes a sigh of relief when he gains control of the boat's movements, positioning his feet to prevent the vessel from tipping.

He leans her down before untying the rope. With an ore, he pushes himself from the dock, sitting on a wooden plank before he starts rowing. Cordelia sits on the other plank, pouting as she watches her kingdom fade from the distance.

<You can untie me now.> She mutters to the thief. <Just so you know, I can’t swim, so there’s no reason that you should keep me bound like a hog.>

And have you do something like dump out all your belongings? I don’t think so.> he makes steady breaths as he pushes the boat further out to sea.

<Where are you taking me?>

<Back to headquarters. My comrades will want to scope you out—see if you’re appropriate for the job.>

<What job?> Cordelia asks. She didn’t care, exactly but she didn’t want to be victim to his potentially angry whims. Despite what she thought of him, she had to play it safe.

<I’m under orders to locate the Princess of your lands.>

Cordelia pales instantly. A princess of her lands referred to one person—her. She braces herself for her next question. <A-And why is that?>

<I won’t hold you in suspense.> He lowers his voice. <I was instructed to find the princess and capture her. You see, she’s supposed to be married to King Westley, but her presence in our already poor kingdom won’t bode well for us. The King and Queen of Wellspring are tyrants and want our armies to take over more lands with that unbridled greed of theirs. We can’t go through another famine—and our King is too foolish to see past her beauty, or, so my employer says. It’s astounding what a pretty face can to a man.>

<Once captured, what are you …planning to do with her?>

<Kill her.> The way he casually throws his words means it’s not something that phases him. This means that he’s a killer—an assassin. Oh god, she was on a dinky little boat with a man who would try to kill her—once he found out who she truly was. She…she couldn’t have heard him correctly.

<K-Kill the princess?>

<From what I’ve heard, she wasn’t well liked by her subjects. And I’m sure you don’t mind either, I mean what has she done for you?>

God, she could feel the contents of her stomach curl. <And how am I supposed to help you kill some princess?!> She says in confusion, doing her best to prevent herself from vomiting.

<You speak both Weltish and Antillian.> He smiles. <You could ask about the princess yourself, and gain information without suspicion. Help me capture the princess, and I will return your things, and your freedom.>

<My what?!> She says in rage, briefly forgetting her dire circumstance. <You can’t return something you do not own!>

<You’re my captive.> His suspicious grin returns. <And as my captive, I get the upper hand. I promise I’ll treat you well, if you behave yourself. If you don’t, I can’t promise you a damn thing.> He continues to row, the strokes through the ocean water splash the bottom of the vessel. Cordelia frowns, feeling the friction of the rope against her wrists.

<My belonging are not for you to sell!> She says with a ferocious temper. <A man like you would never have the luxury to own such treasures.>

<Yet, here you are in my possession. Now unless you want to sink to your death, I advise you hush that damn pretty mouth of yours.> He narrows his brows, untying the boat from the tall wooden post. <You’ve got a mouth on you, but from what the moon has shown me, you seem to have a pretty face under that hood.>

<What?!> She scoffs.

<Maybe I should keep you for myself.> She sees his grin grow into a mischievous one. Damn him and his cursed words. He might have had a handsome face for a thief, but that was not cause for his slander.

<You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like me.> She challenges him. <A woman of class requires a courtship that I am positive you couldn’t keep up with.>

He stops rowing, as he turns to her in question. <What I would do with you? Oh, that’s easy—I’d make that mouth do something much more satisfying than hearing your shrill tone.>

<My tone is not shrill!> She stands up, shifting the boat’s weight off kilter.

<Are you bleedin’ out of your mind?! Sit down right now—I swear, you’ll drown us both!>

<Then apologise for your rudeness, or I’ll throw myself overboard, along with the items you so wish to possess!> Cordelia isn’t sure if she’ll subjugate herself to death, but she knows that it’ll be better than dealing with whatever this man was concocting within her. <I will tip us.>

<Sit down!> He says, weary. Or you’re going to make us both sink!>

Her steel blue eyes flash in amusement.

<Now the tables have turned.> She smiles, knowing she has the upper hand.

<You can’t swim, now get down!>

<I refuse. And you can’t make me.>

The thief stands up, making quick work of his situation. He scoops Cordelia from her stance, sitting her rear onto the plank. Cordelia moans in disapproval.

<No more interfering—we’ll be there shortly.> He scolds.

<We’ll see about that.> She narrows her eyes. Her satisfaction doesn’t last for long—a sudden motion throws Cordelia off balance, the back of her head smashes against the stern’s ledge. Within moments, everything fades to black.

***

Cordelia wakes up, feeling almost airborne. Quickly realizing that she was not alone, she gasps, feeling the warmth of her captor's arms. He looks down for a moment—a flash of concern hits before he reverts back to a scowl.

<You’re heavy.> He mutters under his breath. <Are you well enough to walk?>

<You’re weak.> She mutters back. <I’m as light as a feather.> The back of her head feels tender--reminding her to ask, <What happened?>

<You hit your head...> His frown remains. <Who told you that you were as light as a feather, your fiancé?>

<How did you know about my fiancé?!> She gasps.

<You rich types are always promised to someone else—I swear you treat each other like cattle.> He shakes his head. <I knew you were no different.>

<Excuse me.> She would sock him in the face if her wrists weren’t still bound together. <We are not—I am not cattle!>

He rolls his eyes. <One of the benefits of working for one’s self—no one tells me what to do.> He says it so offhandedly, Cordelia briefly wonders why he said it at all. <You must have done him some real favours.>

Cordelia sharply inhales, her temper bubbling to the surface. <I did nothing of the sort!>

<A waste—you nobles have no concept of fun.> Cordelia can’t see his face, but she hears the amusement of his tone. <Besides, we’ll be at our location soon.>

<And where might that be?>

<Our lodgings.>

Cordelia gets a whiff of the stench before a small, grizzly looking village befalls her view.

<God, you live in these slums?>

<No, but we need to pass through here to get to our spot. If you’re going to be rude, I’ll introduce you to the locals, who I’m sure would love to hear how judgemental you are.> He sneers. <If they don’t cut you open with a blade first.>

<I’ll have you know that I—>

<Keep your voice down.> He speaks in a rushed whisper. <I'm not kidding.>

Ooh, if he knew exactly what he was getting into… he’d be so dead right now. The bastard wouldn’t know what hit him. But, if he was instructed to kill her… she had to keep her mouth shut. She must not let him know of her origins.

It takes them a couple of minutes passing through the empty, smelly town. Outside the district, a cabin resides between the trees. It doesn’t look too shabby—the roof and siding are intact. They stop; he lets her down without warning. Cordelia falls on her knees, unable to keep her balance—her head is pounding.

<I suppose it was too soon to let you walk on your own.> He ponders out loud. As he helps her up. <You took a mighty blow to the head.>

<I wonder whose fault that was?> She mocks him.

<Yours.> He reminds her. <I wasn’t the one who foolishly distracted me from my path. I hit a rock because of you.> He unlocks the door, ushering her inside.

Cordelia wrinkles her nose at the scent—it’s musty. She can’t see the surroundings until the thief lights the lantern hanging on the wall. It doesn’t have much to it—a table, two chairs, a fire pit and a makeshift hay mattress.

<This place is cold and damp.> She mutters, refusing to sit. The thief locks the door behind her and slips the key in his pocket.

<It’s where we’re staying until the morning.> He frowns, looking around the place. <Don’t get your britches in a twist, we won’t be for long.>

<I am not staying here.> She demands, stomping her foot. <You release me this instant!>

<No. I need you, remember?> He slips off his jacket, revealing his …gloriously toned arms. Cordelia turns away in a huff; it was clearly the drink that was lowering her inhibitions. If she was sober, she wouldn’t have been so taken with his appearance.

<You get the bed, I’ll sleep here.> He pats the dingy mattress. <You have my word that you’ll be left alone.>

Cordelia refuses to comply. <I am not sleeping on that thing. If you believe I’d sleep on hay like some dirty farmer, you have another thing coming.>

<Suit yourself.> He sits on the hay mattress and undoes the ties on his shirt. Cordelia is drawn to the flickers of the lantern, highlighting his strong features. His facial scruff was well trimmed, lining his jawline. His chest was divinely sculpted; unbelievable to her naked eye. It’s impossible to look away.

<Oh, are you going to watch me change?> He raises a playful brow when she doesn’t respond. <Silent, I see. I was fearing that it was an impossibility.>

<Big words for such a small brain.> She tosses her words back at him.

He rolls his eyes. <I tried to be a gentleman, but if you’re going to act like a bitch, you can sleep like one.>

<Excuse me?!> That’s it. She’s had it with his rudeness. <You are in the wrong here. I am not at fault for you kidnapping me!>