The castle air had always been too stiff for Cache. It was hard for him to ride out a pounding hangover when everyone kept an annoyingly close eye on him. He was supposed to be a representation of class and dignity, but he never received as much respect as his brother. Nalholon stood up straight and never faltered.

Cache was having none of that; he would rather leave that up to Nalholon. Besides, he was supposed to be the first one in line for the throne after his father stepped down. Cache hoped that if he proved himself with this job, Nalholon would have to step aside and give the crown to Cache. He was saving the kingdom, after all.

Cache sneaked past the people that occupied the castle to avoid any unnecessary chit chat that would make his headache worse. Everyone wanted to talk to him about the trip, especially the women. They were impressed by his bravery. Once outside, the cool air hit his face and calmed his nerves. He watched as the servants did their rounds across the grounds until something caught his eye - something purple.

"Oh no, not her." Cache thought to himself, spotting Varsa asleep against one of the castle's pillars. His mind throbbed, pleading with him to remember something that the alcohol had covered up. He narrowed his eyes at the bruises and scratches on her face. She had been fighting.

He couldn't help but notice the new suit she sported. Cache knew she had a good figure under the rags that most of the slaves were given, but Good Gods, he didn't know she looked like that. She slept peacefully against the pillar, the sunlight made her skin even more radiant than it already was. It really was a shame that she was a filthy mutt, too mixed to marry well.

"Prince Cache, good to see you this lovely morning! I was needing-"

"Shh! Shh!" Cache tried to hush Nobleman Ivuni, but it was too late.

Varsa startled awake and bounced to her feet. Her knuckles turned black as she gripped her backpack, until she spotted Cache. Her shocked face turned to a sneer as she threw the backpack over her shoulder and crossed her arms.

Cache matched her stance. "I'm surprised you made it, scum. Bright and early too. Where is your guard?"

"Busy." She snapped back.

"Watch your tone, gutter rat." He smirked. "Got into a fight last night, I see? What, you had to scrap for food or something?" He shook his head. Cache's false amusement faded quickly. "Pathetic. Why are you here so early?"

"Didn't want to be late. I do recall your mother vaguely threatening my life or something." She brushed it off as if the threat was a gnat in front of her.

"You'd be wise not to say such things, mistoa," Ivuni growled at her.

"You can't boss me around any more. Need I remind you, you straight out threatened my life, and yet, here I am." She straightened up and smirked.

"Why, you little whore-" Ivuni charged at her but Cache held out his hand to stop him.

"Fighting trash is beneath you, Nobleman Ivuni." His voice was smooth and dripping with boredom. "What were you needing anyways?" Cache turned his full attention to the nobleman, completely ignoring Varsa.

"Oh, the King sent me directions for your travel accommodations. You will be accompanied by a guard with an undercover car to reach the destination of Ancrett City, right outside the palace."

Cache's eyebrow perked up. "One car? Do you mean I am stuck sitting in the same car as this smelly, dirty, disease-ridden half-bred?! This ought to be fun.''

"Unfortunately, yes. The king thought it too risky to take more than one. It would look suspicious."

"What? Scared of being alone with me? You didn't seem to mind last night." Varsa narrowed her eyes at Cache.

Cache's body twitched. "I have no clue what you're referring to, lying mistoa." Cache snapped his attention back to Ivuni. "When will this car be here?"

As soon as Cache asked, a slick, black, hovercar pulled up in front of the castle's entrance. The wind whipped around them as the wheels pulled themselves out from the underside of the car. Hydraulic systems hissed and steam pushed out from the gas pipe, settling onto the ground. The windows were so tinted, Cache couldn't see if anyone was driving the vehicle. Several slaves began to pack up the trunk with the prince's possessions. Varsa rolled her eyes.

"How much could you possibly need for a trip like this?"

Cache shrugged at her question. "More than a simple backpack, that's for sure."

The King and Queen descended the castle to send off the two travelers. His mother stayed on the top step, watching them from above. Cache would expect no less from her. King Ryn came down to greet Cache and Varsa, wrapping his arm around Cache's shoulders.

"Please be careful, my son. Follow this woman's every move. I know she will keep you safe and bring you back home." He reached out for Varsa but she pulled away. Cache rolled his eyes as King Ryn gave her a sympathetic smile. "Both of you be safe. My offer still stands. You and your family will want for nothing once you return home with the computer chip."

Cache searched for his brother and sister, but they never cared for such things as saying goodbye. He wished it didn't sting. The thought of still wanting a normal family bothered him.

A servant opened the door for Cache. He slipped inside, his headache pounded against his skull. He wanted to go back to bed. The alcohol churned in his stomach and he hoped that it wouldn't make a second appearance on the road.

Varsa huffed and walked over to the other side to open her own car door. Cache smirked at the constant attitude that she liked to display for everyone. It was all too familiar to what Cache was used to doing; he knew it was a front to keep her emotions in check. He cursed his deepening curiosity of the mixed blood, but that wouldn't stop him from finding out more.

Once the car drove away from the palace gates, Cache knocked on the glass that divided the front and back seats. He would stay with the half-breed for now, but if she got too much, he would kick her to the front seat with Oxburgh, the guard who was driving them.

"How long will it take for us to reach Ancrett?" Cache knew this was going to be a long trip, but he wanted to know how much time he would be spending alone with the slave.

"It will be approximately five days and sixteen hours of travel," Oxburgh replied. Cache nodded, noting that he was wearing a black armored suit that some of the working class wore outside of the castle. He figured it was camouflage so that he didn't scream: palace guard.

Varsa groaned. Cache laughed at how uneasy she was acting.

"Come on, I can't be that bad of company."

"I think I prefer the drunk you, and that's saying something." She pressed herself as far into the door as she could, staring out the window.

Cache shook his head. "You have never seen me drunk."

"I wish that were true." She rolled her eyes. "You stumbled out of the Lornkey Bar last night and forced me to walk home with you." She waved him off, refocusing on the city passing by as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

Cache tensed in his seat. He swallowed hard. He didn't remember much from the night before, he definitely didn't remember Varsa. His mind raced as he remembered he was always nicer as a drunk. He groaned before asking, "What happened last night? I don't remember. Did I say anything?"

Varsa narrowed her eyes at him. "You said a lot of things last night. It was all rather annoying, derivative bullshit." She scoffed and then sighed. "You... talked about the stars a lot..." Her voice wavered at the last part. She fiddled with the end of her braid as she turned her gaze to her new favorite part of the car, the window.

If Cache thought the castle's air was stiff, it had nothing on the tension in the back seat. He glared at her, how dare she turn away from him as if their conversation was done. Cache hadn't dismissed her. He huffed. Blurred memories flashed in Cache's mind. He remembered a woman, everything but her face. The purple skin was familiar... and soft. He groaned.

Oh no, he thought to himself. He had to ask, "You weren't in the bar, correct?"

"No. The bar is for lowlifes and scumbags-" She paused looking him up and down, "like you." She smirked. "That's not my crowd. Drunk people do stupid things. I don't like to be around idiots."

"You can't talk to me like that!"

"I just did." Varsa snapped back. "Get used to it. If you are going to be a prick, then I have every right to address you like a spoiled brat, my lord." She drugged his title through the sarcastic equivalent of mud.

Cache found no comfort in her words, he remembered distinctly something going on last night. And Varsa refused to say anything outright, it was like pulling teeth with her. He narrowed his eyes. She was hiding something, it was obvious by the way she hugged the door and refused to look at him.

Cache sighed, getting irritated with the games. "So me and you...never...right? Last night, I wasn't with you the whole time?"

"You and I never, what? You 'walked'-" She used air quotes as she talked, "me home, that is all." Her cheeks turned a more reddish color as she stared at the switch that opened and closed the window. "Nothing else happened. You talked yourself up the whole time and then stumbled back to the castle, I suppose."

"Ah! See, I was chivalrous last night. You should be grateful I didn't leave you, mistoa." Cache relaxed. He knew, now, that Varsa was intelligent, for a slave, and extremely naïve. He looked out the opposite window to watch as the buildings passed by.

"I talked about stars, huh?" Cache smiled. As a boy, he would go out to the garden and star gaze every night he could. Those were simpler times, he missed those times.

"Yeah..." Varsa whispered as she pulled herself as far away from him as the small back seat would allow.

Cache rolled his eyes. He was the best company she had ever been with, and yet she was acting like a caged animal. He tried to think of something that would get her to relax a little. Her anxious fiddling grated on his nerves.

"Father named me after the Cache constellation. Did I-"

"So you said."

Cache sighed and leaned against the window. She was impossible. He knew that he was never going to get anywhere with her. She was scum, she didn't know how to hold a conversation. He couldn't really blame her. Varsa was probably just at a loss for words. He did that to a lot of women; they never knew how to talk to him.

Cache allowed his mind to wander to the space outside of the window. Although he was allowed anywhere inside the Wiscard borders, Cache had never left the main city. He heard stories from the bar regulars of how the kingdom and their cultures thrive. Wiscard was known for its drastic landscapes and artistic people, especially their music. The cities were sculpted around hills and mountains that were covered with trees full of bright Autumn colors outside the Wiscard capital city. Outside the window looked like a painting.

The car passed through several towns, but his favorite had to have been Marcourt. The buildings were painted with all sorts of colors that a rainbow would be jealous of. Cache couldn't help but smile at the passing shades.

"Varsa!" He grabbed her arm. She jumped and pulled away from him, but Cache didn't care as he continued to point out the window. "Varsa! Look at that building!" Cache sounded like a child. He knew it, but he hoped that it would make her talk more, he was becoming increasingly irritated at the silence.

The building he pointed to stood tall with purples, blues, and oranges painted in stripes. The windows were made to show a smiley face on the front of the building. Varsa nodded, her eyes followed it as it flew by the window. A pained look crossed her face briefly before she slumped back in her chair, staring out the window.

"That's a nice building," she responded in a monotone voice. Her pointer fingers picked at the skin around her thumbnail as she sighed.

Cache slumped back in his own seat and glared at Varsa. He didn't appreciate how uncooperative she was being. He didn't choose her predicament, nor did he decide to be her company.

"You know, many women would love the opportunity to spend this much time with me?" He ran a hand through his hair, a large confident grin on his face. "When we had balls, there were royal women in line for miles just to get into the castle. What's your problem? You are a slave. This should be the best day of your life!" Varsa's anger bubbled around her as she opened and closed her fists, as if she were debating on punching him.

"You. You are my problem. You are everyone's problem." She snapped. "Has it ever occurred to you that you aren't everyone's favorite person to be around?!"

Cache was taken aback at her sudden outburst. He didn't understand what she just said to him. He furrowed his brows, confused.

"Varsa..." He stopped. If his normal stuff wasn't working, then maybe he could try something else. He had seen some of the couples in the castle act a certain way to each other. Maybe that would get this low life talking. "I know your situation is less than kind," he groaned inwardly, this was so awkward. "But... is everything okay?" Gods, what was this slave doing to him?! Why Cache was even asking this question was beyond him.

"'Less than kind'?!" She hissed out. "You have no idea what you are talking about! You have been pampered your whole life. Everything was just handed to you. You never had to work for anything!" She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking. Her voice cracked as she glared out the window, trying desperately to hold herself together. "You have no idea how hard it is."

She was right. Cache had never worked a day in his life while he saw how calloused Varsa's hands were. He let her words rumble around in his mind. She was talking to him, so the new approach was working, but she wasn't being very cordial.

"I am doing all of this for a lousy conversation..." He sighed, deciding to let a few moments pass before approaching her again with conversation. She obviously needed the breathing room. She was like a tea kettle. If she kept boiling over, soon she would run out of steam.

"You're right..." He cringed at his words.

This low-life didn't need validation. It would just give her a bigger head than she already had, but he wanted to talk. He smiled knowing his mother would kill him if she saw how gentle Cache was with the mixed blood. However, he had always had more heart than most of his family. He blamed it on his Father.

"I don't know of your struggles. But you know nothing of mine. You shouldn't judge me so harshly. Get to know me, first. That's how this works."

Varsa groaned, rubbing circles into her temples. "That's rich. You and your kind call me mistoa, mix-blood, a plague. Just last night you said we were dangerous scum, and yet you are here asking to get to know me?" She shook her head. "You are right, Cache, I know nothing of your 'struggles'." she spat the word out in a sarcastic tone. "At least when you struggle it doesn't end in death."

Cache sighed and leaned back against the leather seat, his eyes focused once more outside the window. "So be it. If that's how you want to act." He bit inside his cheek. "I'm going to ask you one question and you won't hear of my small talk again."

"What?" She grumbled, angrily shoving a stray tear away.

Cache hesitated. He hated what he was about to ask, but he wanted to get his point across that his life wasn't perfect - just privileged. "Does your mother... you know," he sighed. "Love you? Care about you, at least?"

"What kind of question is that?" She glared at him. "You think because we are scum we don't love our families or something? We go through hell together. A strong family is one who loves above everything else." She took in a few shaky breaths. "We were... we are, a strong family." Her voice cracked, pulling into herself. After a few beats, she glanced over at him. "Does your mother love you?" Her voice was softer this time, barely above a whisper.

Cache met her eyes. "No."