“No, Bors, you do not need more saltrum.”

  “But if a ship comes in–”

  “Chances are they won’t come here! You average two bottles of saltrum per week, and you have ten in stock! You do not need more.”

  The barkeep grumbled, and Jewel turned back to the piled shelves of liquor bottles–only to immediately be distracted by a series of loud banging noises, as if something was getting thrown around in the taproom.

  “What’s that?” Jewel asked.

  Bors continued grumbling. “Probably that partner of yours starting another fight.”

  “I thought it was a whole thing that people don’t start fights in the Claw?”

  “Tradition,” Bors said, making a rude gesture at the door with one meaty hand, “is only as good as the tempers of my patrons. It keeps fights from going too far, but half the rogues in this city have a grudge with the other half, and none of them ended up where they are ‘cus they’re great at following rules.”

  Jewel huffed a little laugh. “How about this, then? If you take care of counting up those mead bottles, I’ll go shame Lain into behaving herself.”

  Bors snorted and took the hardback portfolio from Jewel. “Yeah, alright. Works for me.”

  Jewel nodded cheerily at him and scampered towards the front of the stockroom, already lining up her words to tease Lain for being short-tempered. She cracked the door to the taproom open a hair, wanting a view of just who it was Lain was starting fights with–then she back-pedaled, eyes wide.

  Julia tried to swallow, but it suddenly felt like her body wouldn’t obey her urgings. Her mouth was a desert, her blood ran cold, her heart skipped a beat, her lungs stopped working, and she overall felt like she was going to die on the spot.

  Julia shook her head, surprised to see that she had fallen to the floor in the midst of her sudden panic attack. She tried to get up, and found herself trembling, enough so that she could barely keep balance.

  She settled for all but scrambling back into the depths of the storeroom, until she found the barkeep.

  “Bors,” she hissed, her voice coming out as high-strung and shaky as she felt. “Bors, I need you to do me a favor.”

  The big man turned around, a questioning look twisting his face. “Hmm?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Lain… she’s talking with someone out there, and I… I need to talk to her, now. Can you keep the other person busy, and let Lain know to come see me?”

  Bors hummed a vague question, and Jewel frantically shook her head. “I-I can’t answer any questions, Bors. I just need you to do me this favor, okay?”

  The man frowned, but eventually, he nodded. “Fine. But I’ll expect an explanation once all of this is over.”

  Jewel nodded her head, the motion jerky, and the big man quickly made his way back to the taproom. Jewel heard herself whimper, and pressed herself against a dark wall.

  Things were going too well; she should’ve known this would happen. She should’ve told Lain everything after they… No, too late for that now. She knew Kolaven would catch up with her eventually, if not her father himself. It had been nearly a month now, though, and she had gotten so comfortable, and even started to think that they’d just given up on her…

  “Jewel wants you,” she heard Bors say.

  Stupid. Should’ve told him not to use my name.

  It was her pseudonym, at least. Maybe she wouldn’t catch it.

  “Cross!” Jewel muttered, her voice tight with panic in her own ears, her heart pounding in like a drum.

  Then, a moment later, there were firm hands gently wrapped around her neck, a soft voice sighing a quiet question.

  “Jewel?” Lain asked, worried, “what’s wrong?”

  Jewel took a breath, trying to make her mouth work, trying to push aside her suddenly overwhelming panic. “Th-that woman, the one you were talking to out there…”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Lain interrupted with a frustrated breath. “Kole. She’s an old… I don’t know, associate, I guess. I thought she was dead.”

  Jewel shivered again. Lain knew her? What were the chances of that?

  “Lain… That woman. She’s my betrothed.”

  Lain blinked. “She’s your what?”

  Jewel flinched at the surprise in the rogue’s voice, another jolt of magnified panic running through her. “She… She was one of the people I sort of ran away from when I came here…”

  “But she’s…” Lain trailed off and shook her head. “Okay. We can talk about it once we get out of here. I assume you don’t want her to see you?”

  Jewel nodded jerkily. “If she knows I’m down here, then she’ll tell my father…”

  Lain’s eyes narrowed. “Your father… Fantastic.” She shook her head, as if clearing it.

  “Okay, then… You stay here. I’ll go try and start things with her again, try to get her to take off. I’ll come get you once she’s gone, okay?”

  “Don’t know that you’ll have to worry about that,” Bors said.

  Jewel startled, and she felt even Lain flinch a little at the man’s sudden appearance. Apparently the thief hadn’t noticed his approach any more than Jewel had.

  “Kole made some hasty excuses and took off,” Bors continued. “Seemed mighty distracted.”

  Jewel felt a whine slip from her lips, and Lain’s hands stroked over her shoulders and upper back, a gentle counterpoint to her fierce words.

  “Did you tell her anything about Jewel?”

  “Hmm…” Bors considered the question carefully, then shook his head. “Nothing more than her name, and that she’s been helping out a few people as a scribe.”

  Lain cursed under her breath. “Okay. So she won’t be armed with anything more than suspicions, not yet at least.”

  “You wanna tell me what’s going on, Lain? I thought Kole was dead.”

  “So did I,” Lain agreed. “Apparently, she’s in the liquor business now.”

  “Hngh. Ain’t that a sumbitch. What about her? Why’s Jewel so panicky?”

  “It’s a long story,” Lain said, saving Jewel the trouble of having to come up with an answer herself. The girl leaned her head against one of Lain’s strong hands, trying to express her gratitude. “Look, if anyone comes around asking, you haven’t seen Jewel in a couple days, alright?”

  “Huh? You think someone’s after her?”

  “Looks that way,” Lain said.

  Jewel whimpered. It was all coming apart.

  “Look, I’ll clue you in when I can. But if anyone comes around asking about Jewel–or me–I need you to cover for us, okay?”

  A heavy moment passed after the question, but finally, Bors grunted an affirmative. “Fine. For you, Lain. But I want to know what’s going on, and soon.”

  Jewel felt more than saw the look Lain gave her. “Me too, Bors. Me too.”

  #

  It took half an hour for Lain to get Jewel home, the rogue sometimes all but dragging her through the streets while she tried to fight off the overpowering panic her betrothed’s appearance had sparked in her, and it was nearly another hour past that when Jewel pulled herself together, huddling in the shadows of the farthest corner of the loft.

  The whole time, Lain stayed quiet and patient, stroking Jewel's skin, her hair, whispering quiet reassurances. Only once the attack passed, leaving Jewel utterly exhausted and numb, did the thief finally ask the question that had grown increasingly heavy between them.

  “So… Your fiancé?”

  Jewel swallowed, fought down another bolt of panic. “Y-yes. I knew her as Kolaven though, not Kole.”

  “Sure,” Lain said, nodding easily, “that’s an uphill name. Makes sense. What else do you know about her?”

  Jewel shrugged, the motion limp and tired. “Not much. I knew she was a liquor merchant, an up-and-comer my father wanted to get in his pocket. He was the one who arranged the courtship and the engagement, not me.” After a moment, she added, “Technically, I ran before we got engaged. But I’m pretty sure the paperwork got signed anyway.”

  Lain blew out a slow breath. “Your father. Alright, I’ve gotta ask, then…”

  Jewel nodded. She knew that, as much as she had avoided talking about her past with Lain, it was past time to spill. “My father is Jonslin Brooker.”

  “Jonslin… Cross!” Jewel felt Lain tighten, and the woman pulled a little away from her.

  No, no, no, not like this, no…

  “Your father is Lord Brooker? The most powerful man on the Golden Council?”

  Jewel flinched at her tone. “He’s not technically a lord.”

  “He’s the richest man in Emeston, Jewel! If he wants to be a lord, he can be! And… He’s your father?”

  “Y-yes.”

  Lain stared at Jewel with flummoxed intensity, as if trying to see through a lie–but after a long moment, the focused look on her face cracked, and she relaxed, chuckling to herself.

  “Lord Brooker… Sure, why not…”

  Still quietly laughing, Lain cuddled up against Jewel. There was no hesitation in the affectionate gesture, no lingering stiffness, and Jewel felt something in her chest crack. She drew a deep, shaking breath, and it felt like the first she had taken in a while.

  She doesn’t hate me, Jewel thought to herself. She still…

  Tears ran down Jewel’s cheeks, and Lain kissed them away.

  She still cares about me.