Pretending To Be Royal

Fiona slipped through the bustling marketplace, the scent of exotic spices and freshly baked bread a familiar comfort. Today, however, a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach.

She needed ingredients for Grandmama's cold-cure potion. Dimitri was improving, but seeing him pale and feverish had her heart twisting with worry.

Luckily, since the kiss, Mrs. G had taken over Dimitri's care, a welcome relief, yet it left Fiona with an unsettling emptiness.

As she scanned the stalls overflowing with herbs, a small whimper caught her ear. She turned to see a boy standing by the roadside, tears streaming down his face. Her heart ached.

He was dressed in tattered clothes, his bare feet dusty, a tribal necklace around his neck. He was a mirror of her own impoverished childhood.

"Hey, why are you crying?" Fiona asked softly, approaching him. She gently placed a hand on his thin shoulder and squatted to meet his gaze. He looked no older than five.

"My momma... I can't find her," he whispered, his lip trembling.

"Oh no. How does she look?" Fiona's eyes scanned the crowded marketplace, a protective instinct rising within her.

"She's very pretty," he replied, looking up at Fiona with wide, tear-filled eyes. A strange sense of familiarity tugged at her.

Fiona chuckled, a warmth spreading through her despite her unease. "Let's go look for your pretty momma." She took his small hand in hers. "Where did you last see her?"

"Over there," he pointed a grubby finger towards a narrow, shadowed alley.

Fiona smiled, her grip firm on his hand as she led him into the alley. A flicker of caution crossed her mind. Why is he dressed like a wanderer? If he is one, why is he here? The wanderers had agreed to stay outside the city limits.

She wanted to ask him, but shook her head. He's just a little boy.

They walked deeper into the alley. The vibrant sounds of the marketplace faded behind them, replaced by an unsettling silence. Fiona realized they'd been walking for an unusually long time. The alley seemed to stretch into an endless, oppressive darkness.

Her heart pounded in her chest. A chill snaked down her spine as she heard whispers carried on the wind—the faint, mournful cries of executed wanderers. "Save us..." "Please, Your Majesty!" "We're innocent!" "I have a child at home!" "Ahhhhh!!!" The chilling sounds seemed to rise from the very stones beneath her feet.

She whirled around, her breath catching in her throat. "Did you… did you hear that?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Her eyes widened in horror. The little boy was gone.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing in the oppressive silence.

Slow footsteps echoed from the darkness ahead, then quickened, closing in on her.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Fiona's voice wavered, but she forced herself to stand her ground. Her senses heightened, and she could feel her energy stirring, coiling within her like a viper ready to strike. Her fingers sparked with faint crackles of power.

"Sh...show yourself!" She trembled, but her eyes scanned the shadows, searching for any movement.

She froze, a frigid breath ghosting against her neck.

"Ah!" she cried out, spinning around and unleashing a burst of energy. A bolt of raw power erupted from her hand, a searing white light in the darkness.

But her attacker was too fast. He dodged the blast with impossible speed and agility, his laughter echoing through the alley. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrists, his grip like iron.

"Hey. I'm your friend, not your enemy," a voice chuckled, smooth as velvet. Fiona flinched, as wrenched her hands free.

"Who are you? And what did you do to the boy?" she demanded, struggling to see him in the gloom.

"Oh, that boy? He's not real. He's just one of my creations." Takachi replied.

Creations? Was he… a god?

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tight with fear, trying to regain her composure.

"He's a figment of my imagination, created to lure you here, Fiona."

"You… you know my name?" Her heart hammered against her ribs. She had to escape.

"Oh! I know you, Fiona. And don't worry, I won't hurt you," he whispered, his voice dangerously close. She could feel his presence pressing in on her, a chilling mix of familiarity and menace.

She gasped as a gust of wind whipped through the alley, then a soft red light bloomed, illuminating the scene. It was his magic, a crimson glow that painted the alley walls in shades of blood and shadow.

"I'm just like you. You see, I'm a—"

"Wanderer," Fiona cut in, her voice barely a whisper. This confirmed her worst fears—wanderers were indeed in the main city.

He did look like the little boy, yet older, more refined. Black hair cascaded down his shoulders, framing a chiseled face with sharp cheekbones, piercing green eyes that seemed to glow in the red light, and full, beautiful lips twisted into a knowing smirk.

"What are you doing here? Wanderers aren't supposed to be in the main city."

"Yes... we are supposed to be cast away, to the barren lands just at the end of the borders. Wandering about for food," his voice dripped with bitterness. Fiona couldn't speak, guilt and a dawning horror choking her. She knew the injustice of it.

Takachi grinned, a slow, predatory smile, as he walked away from her, leaning against the wall with casual arrogance, one shoulder against the brick, one foot braced against it.

"That still doesn't answer my questions," she began timidly, her voice trembling slightly. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, as he pushed himself upright, hands sliding into his pockets.

"I came to make peace with the king."

"We're already at peace."

"Are we? Oh, don't be deceived, Fiona. You know we deserve more." He walked slowly back towards her, his hand reaching out to caress her face gently.

Fiona recoiled, slapping his hand away. Her eyes flared with a fierce red light, her power surging through her veins.

"Feisty," he laughed, the sound devoid of humor. "What about you? You're not supposed to be here."

"I... I was kidnapped," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, then softened into a disarming grin. "You sure didn't look kidnapped at the princess ball."

She felt a lump form in her throat, a wave of panic rising within her. She couldn't tell him about the plan.

"You see, you and I… were the same," he said, circling her slowly, his voice a silken whisper. "Looking for a home, a family."

"I already have a home. I am a wanderer," she cut in boldly, her voice trembling slightly but laced with defiance.

"Oh, right! You and every other wanderer still believe that we were meant for nothing else but to wander. Well, I believe we deserve a permanent place to call home."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to walk away, his back to her. "Very soon, Fiona. You will join me."

She stood there, frozen, her mind reeling, trying to decipher his words, his intentions.

"What happens if the king refuses?" she called out, her voice echoing in the alley.

He stopped in his tracks, his shoulders rising and falling in a slow, deliberate breath. She could feel his smirk, though she couldn't see it in the shadows.

"Then I'll make him accept."