Chapter 2

Maida couldn’t think anymore. All she felt was a sense of fear and excitement. She wondered why she allowed this Cece nobleman to steal her in the night. Maybe because the idea of that sounded so romantic, but Sloane didn’t seem to be in the mood for any sort of romance as his eyes darted from building to building, carrying an air of apprehension.

She couldn’t think of anyone coming after them with this kind of vengeance. She thought about the girls in her class that would become jealous of her whenever a handsome boy would talk to her. Maybe they realized she was so beautiful that she could attract a gorgeous Cece angel such as this one who held her hand one side and on the other on a sheathed sword.

‘Wait a second.’ She looked again, still jogging impressively in her soft, furry white bed slippers. “I don’t think they’d want to kill me! It’s not like I stole any of their boyfriends!” Sloane glanced at her with a confused expression and continued running. “Who is after us?”

They stopped running for a while but Sloane continued in a fast walking pace. He thought about what to say. She wasn’t going to believe that they could be possibly chased by an unknown amount of people and not even know who they are. They were hunters running blindly into a pack of hidden lions. Who knew how many were in that pride?

“I don’t know but if we stay here, we both might die. You certainly don’t want to die, right?” he smiled pleasantly. Maida nodded hesitantly. They walked for another half a mile when they arrived at a river where there was a boat with three people in it. They looked as if they had been waiting for Sloane and Maida for a while. The two passengers stood up to acknowledge their presence.

“Sloane and Maida, we request you come with us immediately,” the one on the right spoke in an obviously altered voice that sent chills and made their stomachs turn. The two couldn’t see their faces well because of the darkness but the street lights and the moon was almost enough where they were wearing masks that were surrounded by cloaks. They both seemed to stand at the same height and both had a very strange, eerie air about them.

“Can we trust them?” Maida asked. Sloane nodded but hesitantly. When they climbed into the boat, one of the masked strangers motioned for the boatman to begin stirring.

“What did the fortuneteller say to you?”

Before Sloane could act, the other had a sword held to Maida’s neck.

“You leave any part out and this girl dies. We don’t take any negotiations.”

Maida gave Sloane a scared look. All that she could think was that she was in huge trouble for some unknown reason and Sloane was the only protection she had. The other masked figure didn’t make a move for its sheathed sword so she hoped that their intention really wasn’t to kill her.

Sloane glared defiantly. “You sound like a Gautier even with that voice—”

“What did the fortuneteller say for you to do?” the one carrying a sword had its sword closer to Maida’s neck to the point that it made contact. She hadn’t seen Sloane yet in a scowl but in her opinion, he was still gorgeous even with that dangerous glare of his that evoked so much power and emotion. She was glad that he was concerned for the life of a middle class stranger he barely even knew, and that fueled the idea more than ever that he must have been some personal prince sent to her from the heavens.

“Find the house with a garden of purple roses and the girl living there. When you do, save her before a tenth of the hour has passed. Whoever shows up to help aren’t what they seem. Follow the path they have betrayed.”

The sword was pulled away. Sloane glanced to see if she was alright. As the two made eye contact, she gave a quick smile, feeling unusually calm even when she was held hostage. It was as if being by his side, he would take care of anything. She wondered why she thought that way if it was because he was the only hope she had or that she trusted fate wouldn’t bring them together to end like this. Sloane continued to stare at the two.

“Can I ask—”

“You may not,” the altered voice replied. The other masked figure scribbled down some instructions. Sloane wondered how they were able to write anything in the darkness like this but he didn’t want to challenge their authority. There was something about the way that the one that held the sword up to Maida’s neck that sent a shiver through him. If he were to fight them now, he wondered just by their aura if he could even overpower the masked one with the sword.

He didn’t take his eyes off of the armed individual when the other masked person handed the paper to him. He had to wait for his eyes to adjust further in the darkness to read the messy writing. Sloane nodded and stuffed the note in his pocket. He looked around quickly as if to make sure they would not be followed. Then, with some hesitation, he slowly grabbed Maida’s hand. Feeling that aura of tension run through his hands, Maida felt the warm, fuzzy feelings of romance with a handsome nobleman become a tense battle for her life.

Sloane leaned over to whisper in her ear so quietly that she was tempted to ask him to repeat. “The moment this boat stops, we run as fast we can.” His fingers gripped over her hand. “We’ll be alright.” Maida looked at him and nodded, feeling that for some reason, it would be safe to put her life in his hands.

They waited patiently allowing the air of tension to sink in and make them nervous. Sloane closed his eyes and for a moment, and Maida thought he was about to fall asleep. She glanced at the two strangers sitting before her and none of them looked away but they were as still as he was. The man rowing the boat was just as still. Everything seemed extremely quiet as if they were waiting for something to happen. When the boat came to a sudden halt, his hand over hers tightened.

He pulled her out of the boat and ran across the dock as fast as he could. He forgot that Maida couldn’t keep up at his pace. Her heart raced as they ran past building after building in a single direction that seemed to have no end.

“Don’t look back,” his voice was beginning to run short on breath as they darted through the barrels that blocked parts of the street and around concession stands that were built in the middle of large roads.

Within minutes, a high pitched sound zipped through the air. Before Sloane could wonder what the sound was, an explosion and its shockwave raced through the streets they just crossed and he felt the vibrations run through his les. Maida faltered in her steps, and Sloane held onto her for support, and they continued to run, tripping a bit along the way.

“What was that?” she asked in a panic.

“It sounded like it was from where those people were,” Sloane’s eyes darted from building to another to see if there was any approaching intruder. “Let’s stop just incase we’re being chased.” He pulled on her hand. “Here. Don’t say a word,” he whispered as they hid beneath an open barrel where its shadows could conceal them from the naked eye. They waited and watched the open streets. Sloane had one hand over the handle of his sword, staring intensely in the open streets and wherever his eyes could see. He held onto his sword ready to fight anyone who approached him and Maida with any intent of harm.

He had his thumb over the number two as the cell phone speed-dialed back to the Galahad estate. He clicked another button placing the phone on the ground as the group of Christian and his three Galahad knights heard their receiver clearly. A rusty, old voice that carried a tone of authority but with a hint of fatigue echoed through the other line but in a hushed, quiet tone.

“What is it, Christian?”

“There has been a contradiction with the fortuneteller’s story.”

A brief silence interrupted the conversation.

“What kind of contradiction?”

“In my opinion, Sir,” one knight spoke. “Another family clan might know about this operation and possibly attempt to interfere.”

“I will see to it that this issue be addressed. Continue with the operation as planned.” The sound of the phone’s click ended the conversation. Christian picked up the phone and stared at the large empty barrel, knowing that Sloane and the girl were waiting in there.

“What should we do?” another one of the knights asked. Christian reached over to the phone and pressed the first key on his cell-phone as it speed-dialed to the voice of a younger individual that sounded playful but tired.

“What’s the matter, Christian? Don’t tell me I have to fix something?”

Christian frowned. The air on his side of the line was incredibly anxious and the taunting voice on the line didn’t improve the nervousness or the huge chance they could fail this mission.

“I made a call to the family head. He wants us to continue with the original operation.”

“So what’s the problem?” the voice now hinted an edge of curiosity. “Why would you ever disagree with our dear old Mr. Millen...especially in the middle of an operation as important as this one?”

“We suspect that there has been interference, possibly from another family clan. Also, Sloane has accompanied by a girl. From what it seems, they’re strangers to each other.”

“Maybe the traitor you hired is double-crossing you. Did you consider that?” the phone’s voice was mocking but it also had a hint of concern. “Oh dear, oh my...what did Millen say?”

“The family head said he will see that this matter be addressed and hung up on us.”

“Well, that’s just mean,” the voice laughed jarringly. “How about you guys change your plan of operation, yeah? If Millen throws a fit, tell him that I gave you my orders to befriend Sloane and that girl. I can’t have you fighting Sloane directly at this point. After all, from what Millen has told me, and this is straight out of Chalmers Leda’s mouth that Sloane could be stronger than that dim-witted Cece prodigy. Even a good 1st seat man like you and three knights might not be enough if what Millen said is true. And honestly, who knows what that double-crossing traitor meant? That girl probably is some stranger that was there to throw you off, yeah? For now, just gain Sloane’s trust first and find out about that girl.”

“It will be done,” Christian answered promptly.

“And also...who do you think is responsible for the interference? What happened exactly?”

Christian thought about whether or not he should go into it now that Sloane and Maida were cautiously emerging from their hiding spot. He didn’t know how to respond to the man’s question in time. It was as if he was expecting to have a pleasant conversation in such a dire situation.

Quickly, one of the knights apologized to Christian before speaking to the phone.

“Your Greatness, I apologize for speaking out of my place, but we request that this conversation be postponed. The targets are moving away and we must follow them.”

“Hm, I guess it can’t be helped, yeah? Do your best, men. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Another click of the phone ended the conversation and sent the room into a deafening silence.

“That was really bold of you,” Christian whispered.

“You were daydreaming,” the knight replied honestly. Christian frowned. He chose to not reply to his subordinate’s comment and signaled for his three men to follow him and keep a close eye on Sloane and Maida who seemed oblivious to their presence.

It really wasn’t his fault that he decided to betray the Cece family, he told himself. They paid him handsomely every year that his prophecies would protect the family from the exploitations of other family clans. The Galahads had their swords held up to not only his neck but the necks of his children, his wife, and his parents.

He honestly liked the Cece family and everything they stood for. The Cece family, in his opinion, was a much kinder and friendlier family than some of the other families were—especially those Galahad members that forced him to betray his favorite family.

His hopes rested in the fact that Sloane has the potential to be just as strong, if not, stronger than the current Cece prodigy. Only a select few even know and acknowledge that potential but it came with a price since the Galahads now were so interested in Sloane’s capabilities. Of course, it made this Cece fortuneteller sad somewhat that a nice boy like Sloane was making the meaning of ‘prodigy’ in this society become more and more obsolete.

It had become painfully obvious years ago, after the fallout of the greatest prodigy that the Ashmore nation had ever seen in this generation, that the very definition of prodigy would never be the same. The fortuneteller recalled a time when prodigies ruled the families and served the will of the Ashmore royal family. The prodigies, essentially, ruled Ashmore after the royal family, and everyone looked to them as symbols of guidance, hope, respect, trust, and appreciation.

The same feelings remain but under different motivations. The prodigies have become tools now for the family clans too. All ten prodigies of the ten noble family clans have declined to become nothing more than the weapons of family politics and the struggle of which family clan was the strongest. The ten families’ prodigies were what defined the family and they were what set the pace of society. They were the most powerful, most revered, and most influential members of Ashmore.

Today, they are still revered and still influential, but now they embody the ideals and values of the family instead of the family embodying the ideals of the prodigy. The prodigies once solely served the will of the King and the protection of Ashmore. Today, their priorities lie in serving the will of the family clan and furthering any sort of social, political, or military power of their family.

That was what they once were, but now, the prodigy is a young man of the family, preferably handsome and admired, and is favored by the governing council of the family so that the prodigy can serve their purposes.

Maybe if the Galahad prodigy, like all of the other prodigies, wasn’t so concerned with family politics, he would have done something like the prodigies many years ago would have done and stopped this. But the Galahad prodigy was sleeping at the moment, and the knights that slashed him with whips embedded in nails leered at the fortuneteller’s attempts to still hold his head up.

“Did we not agree that if there were any sort of contradictions in your prophecy that this would happen? Now we probably will have to kill you,” the rusty voice in the shadows sighed, feeling tired from having to wake up in the middle of the night. He coughed slightly sensing that the case of morning allergies was getting to him. “Another family clan possibly knows about our operation and Sloane cannot be touched because a stranger is with him—a girl. Did you think that would stop us from achieving our goals?”

The fortuneteller shook his head slowly and shuddered sensing that his time was nearly up. He could hardly feel the pain anymore as he went numb from the lashes and the tears in his skin.

“I guess that’s what the Cece has trained you so well in. Even though you betray them, you still don’t want to see them lose their place. You poor man,” the family head coughed briefly. His voice was so monotonous, his tone of speaking sounded almost as if he was reading straight from an incomprehensible book on medical terminology. “That family, just like the Ledas, has already lost its reputation with us long ago for having a prodigy like that.”

One of the knights had an axe held above his head, waiting for Galahad family head’s command.

“Any last words, fortuneteller? Are you going to predict disaster for us?”

The fortuneteller began to cough up blood and barely spoke audibly when he slowly said: “Please,” he mumbled. “Don’t hurt my family. Tell them, my death was caused by enemies of the Cece. Nothing more...please,” he whispered, dropping his head.

“Of course,” Millen sighed, hinting irritation. “We’ll uphold our end to your dying words. We’re not brutal like the Gautiers,” he scoffed haughtily and left the holding cell before the ax landed against the fortuneteller’s skull.