| Chapter Seventeen | Guides of Peace |

Adara awoke alone.  The spot on the bed next to her was empty.  She threw the sheets back, stretching her arms over her head.  Sliding her legs off the bed, she felt the soreness from her feet to her face — the pain between her legs was unlike anything she felt before.  Even her broken hand was tame in comparison.

  She peeled the dress off of her body, ripping it with her fingernails.  She tore it until she could not longer tell what it used to be. 

  Taking the scraps, she throws them into the corner of the room.  Walking across the cold floor to her dresser, pulling out the top drawer she stares at the outfit.  She changes into the clothes slowly.  It was her second skin.  She ran her hands down the clingy material, slipping her black leather gloves onto her hands, her fingers stick out bare. 

  She ran her fingers through her hair, drawing it up into a slick ponytail.  As she thought about it, she realized she used to live in this outfit.  It made her, Jasper.  She knew she would have to tell the prince everything — not telling him would get them killed.  She had to tell him things that she would not even tell herself.

  Adara holds out her arm as she opens her door, Exriam flies from the bed to her.  He climbs to her shoulder.  He was getting bigger and bigger each day.  His body was growing longer, he was nearly a foot long, his legs had begin to sprout in length, now about half his length.  His neck had begun to elongate, giving him a real dragon-look.  His tail was longer than his body, and his wings were still smaller than the rest of him, still tight to his body.

It made her wonder how long they had been locked in those cells.  How long she was hallucinating.  How long they were tortured.  She knew the answers would not be what she wanted. 

  Walking down the hallway, she watches an orc man walk rapidly away from her.  She almost laughed as Exriam hisses, wrapping his tail around her throat.  She was a predator.  She sparked fear in their eyes.  She was Jasper.

  Do I want to be Adara or Jasper?

  As she enters the main room, she can feel the eyes on her.  Yesterday, she felt like she was judged, like she was prey.  Today, she is who they wished they were, like she was a goddess.  But she was simply a person, a person who had to kill parts of herself in order to be able to make others fear her. 

  The prince and Raiali sat alone in the corner, Fashuda behind the counter, other people loitered in the chairs, drinking.  The two turn, both drift into silence at the sight before them.

  She wore a skin tight black sleeved shirt, a leather harness strapped around her upper body.  Her pants were high waisted, black leather, black harnesses wrapped around her thighs and calves, blades tucked into them.  She wore black boots that were also skintight, silent on the floor as she walked.  Around her wrists were wire bracelets, her hair tied up with a black string.

  "My," Raiali marvels at her, "the sleepin' beauty awoke."  He laughs, "You can not just sleep for four days and then walk in looking like that," he crosses his arms, "it is scaring the children."

  Adara laughed — the grown men were scared.  Rightfully so.  But she did not comment on it, for she was in shock that she had slept for so long.  It was to be expected, Tal'anga and the innkeeper had done a number on her, but she would not have thought she could sleep that long.  It was the best sleep she had gotten in a long time.

  "What did you save for me?" Adara asks as she sits across from the two men.  The prince slides a plate towards her, various meats shoved between the halves of a biscuit.  "Home sweet home," she laughs as she opens her hands to grab it.  The action cracks open the cuts on her hand.  Blood begins to drip onto the table.

  "Adara," The prince notices it first, pushing her hand onto the table as he peels her glove off, a small retractible blade on the top, but he never noticed it.  "You need to tell me everything," he whispers as he presses a cloth against her wounds.

  Raiali begins to stand, to leave, but Adara reached her other hand out.  She pushes him back down.  He was as much a part of this as she was.  Maybe he was even more important.  She was unsure, but she knew he had to hear what she had to say as well.

  "So, I guess I should start at the beginning," she whispers, "My father was an elf, born in Xarenth, well known for his blacksmithing.  My mother, well, she was human," she says quietly, looking at the frown on the Prince's face, Raiali just sat in silence.  "They both met in Juula when my father was traveling to sell his goods."

  "Why was she there?" The prince asks.

  "They never told me," she sighs, "but I imagine some crime, but they met and they fell in love, and then I came along."  She could remember, above her parents' bed was a painting of Adara as an infant.  Red hair, green eyes, swaddled in green cloth.  "I was half-human and half-elf, which is forbidden."

  "Forbidden?"

  Adara ignores him.  "My parents decided that they would live in Juula with me, because if either tried to bring me home, I would he murdered and they would rot in prison cells," she balls her hands into fists, blood continues to fall from her hand.  The prince held her hand tightly.  "So, for the first five years of my life, I lived in Juula."

  "They would have killed a baby?" The prince chokes.

  All Adara would do was nod, Raiali winced at that.  "Typically when a child turns ten, they are taken by Bal'Solian recruiters and taken to a school where they see fit," Adara explains.  "These schools are training rooms, where children are molded to be: archers, shamans, spearmen, warriors, things like this," Adara sighs, "but I was taken to the assassins school."

  "Those were outlawed," the prince almost shouts.

  Adara nodded, "they are."  In the first wars there was a mass-production of assassins from both the gold and the glass lands.  That was when dealings in poisons were frequent and innocents were dying.  Both kingdoms decided that for the safety of the future of innocent lives, assassins would be no more.  "Our King Dasheem decided he wanted more assassins to do his dirty work."

  "My parents sold me to them when I was only five," Adara grits her teeth as she looks at the prince.  "I was taken to the school where I was trained to do what they wanted, I was under their control," she whispers, "and Raiali was one of my teachers."

  Raiali looks lazily across the table at her, sorrow in his eyes.  "Each year we started with one-hundred children, and every day they would be killed," he sighs, "if they could not keep up with the training, they were killed."  He blinks rapidly, his black eyes that usually showed no emotion suddenly showed it all.  "It would continue until their were two children left."

  "They would be forced to fight to the death," Adara says quietly, "so they could be one of the Kings' protectors."  Adara saw the little elf boy in her dreams ever since.  "That is when I killed my first person," she sighs, "everyone in this room killed the other child."

  "Adara was the top of her class, and the youngest," Raiali says, "I saw potential I had never seen before, so I trained her harshly."  He rolls his eyes, "I also began to treat her as a sister, rather than a student ."

  "Buladesh, the leader of the assassins program," Adara spits his name like poison, "he gave me to King Dasheem after making me kill Torken."  Adara took in a shaky breath, "that was when the King and I got closer."

  "What was he like?" The prince frowns.

  "He was kind to me, always," she smiles, "I was also six when I met him."  She remembers her first task.  "He had me kill his enemies, wicked members of his inner circle, those he thought would harm him."  She blinks hesitantly, "this went on for years, till I was fifteen."

  "I killed many people," Adara sighs, "and I remember all of their names."

  "When I was fifteen he asked me to do a task," she whispers, remembering the day as though it were yesterday.  "He took me into his chambers and closed the door, locking it," she says slowly, remembering, "He held my shoulders and asked me to kill the queen."

  "His own wife?" The prince asks, confused.

  "I tried to say no, but he would not listen to me," Adara shakes her head as she recalls the events, "He told me I was his and I had to do what he asked, and so I told him I would."  Adara glances at the two men, "Instead of doing what he asked, I decided that he was the one who had to die," she whispers.  "A man who wishes his wife of many years to die, is not a man."

  "You tried to kill him?" The prince whispers.

  "I did," she sighs, "I was a fool to think I could," Adara hisses.  "I tried to poison him, but it did not go as planned."  There was a man who always tasted the Kings' food before he ate it, but he was sick with a flu, so she made her move.  She did not realize that there was a replacement.  The tasters daughter, young and fair.  Her face swelled purple, vomiting, writhing in the floor.  "There was no one else who could have done it, he knew it was me."

  "I tried to run," she sighs, "but the whole kingdom knew my name."  She takes the wrinkled ball of paper that the innkeeper had thrown at her and sets it on the table.  Unfolding it, she stares at the photo.  "Everyone knew who Jasper was, so I had to hide."

  "That was when I found her," Raiali sighs.  He remembered.  He had just executed a few children, his hands still stained with blood, when he saw a shadow on the ground moving.  He looked up and saw a figure moving from roof to roof.  He followed until he saw a girl hit the ground, rolling and drawing her twin daggers.  Aimed at him.  They recognized each other quickly, and he took her.  "I made arrangements for her to be sent to Juula and that was the last time I saw her," he sighs, "at least until four days ago."

  The prince held the photo in his hands.  It was a wanted poster, a picture of Adara with her slick hair and a black mask over the lower half of her face, her emerald eyes and bright red hair shone bright.  They wanted her dead or alive.  Treason.  Murder.  All of the highest order.  In large black letters: armed and dangerous, if you come into contact, do not attempt to attack.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" The prince asks.

  "I am already a traitor to my kingdom," she laughs, "letting you know would have put you in danger — more danger than you are already in just being here."  She runs her thumb over Exriam's forehead, "If your father had asked me to kill anyone else I would have let him kill me, but I have to finish what I started, even if it means I die."

"So how do you propose we go about killing our king this time around?" Raiali asks quietly, cracking his knuckles as he takes another swig of his drink.  He cannot think of the possibility of her dying.  If he did, he was unsure as to what he would do.

  "I am not sure yet," Adara frowns, "if he does not know already, he will be told that I am here in Bal'Sol, so I can not stay here long."  She stares at the table, "I figured you could get me into Xarenth when we decide how we are going to take him down," she smiles.

  "Of course," he smirks, "I can get you in — no problem."

"What would he do to you if he found you?" The prince asks, his eyes meet hers with uncertainty.  He was sitting across from a murdered.  An assassin.  He has slept beside her.  He has fought with her.  He has hurt her.  She could have killed him and he would not have known the difference.

She went to answer, but she was cut off by a loud crashing noise upstairs.  Adara stood quickly, slipping her hand back into the glove.  Raiali climbed slowly onto the table, crouching, all the others took to their weapons and readied themselves.  The prince kept his hand on his sword.

  "How did they find us here?" Adara whispers.  She was careful.  They could not have been followed, at least, not by the guards.  She blinked hesitantly, looking to the floor.  She couldn't have made such a grave mistake. She wouldn't have.

  If she did, she would never forgive herself if someone got hurt. 

  "It would not be the first time drunken idiots found themselves upstairs," Raiali says quietly, "they have never found the door, and if they do, we will handle it."  Adara smiled at that, but she prayed it would not go that far.  To the point where she was forced to raise her blades to another person.  But if she had to, she knew she would.

  She would kill so that the rest of them could live, she would do it.

  There was a loud creak from above, then banging.  Horrendous, ear-shattering scratching on the door.  "Or not," Raiali sighs, rolling his eyes as he climbs behind the bar.  Adara flinched at the sound, taking a smell step backwards.  The floor creaked beneath her feet, and the door was assaulted harshly now.  She frowns: whatever it was could hear them — hear better than she could.

  "Your hearing in inadequate," Buladesh frowned at the small child, her body thin and frail, but so powerful.  "Other elves can hear nearly ten times better than you can."

  "I suppose your vile parents are to blame for this," Buladesh sighs, putting a hand on her head, "those crimes are excusable now, because it makes you even more useful." 

  "Who knows," he smiles, "you might be able to do things that no one else is capable of even imagining."  He saw a toy, an experiment, when she was simply a child.  "I look forward to unlocking these secrets."

  She brought a shaking hand to her lips, pressing it gently as she made eye contact with Raiali.  She pointed to her ears, then up to the ceiling.  They could hear them.  Each movement, every small sound.  Exriam allowed for smoke to dribble slowly from his open mouth, but he held still on her shoulder.

  It was then that Adara remembered the small goblin who guards the door, Gilleax — Drummer.  As she spoke, a silence scattered over them.  She licked her lips softly, "Drummer," she whispers, "what's up there?"  There was more silence.

  Then she could hear him slide the hatch open, then a loud blood-curdling scream sliced through the air.  Adara started to move towards the stairs, but the prince caught her upper arm, holding her still as flesh was ripped from bone above them.  Her chest heaved as she tried to breathe, staring up the stairs.  It was nothing but darkness.

  They all stood in silence as they listened to his screaming grow quieter and quieter until it was nothing but a dull groan.  The prince recognized it — he heard it when they tortured Adara.  She clenches her fists together, ripping her arm from his grasp, walking to the middle of the room, looking up the staircase.

  She was met with two bright red eyes that watched her with nothing but anger.

  Adara could not move as she stared into the hypnotic eyes.  She just watches as the creature leaps into the air, those red eyes, those bloody teeth that were aimed at her body.  She simply stood there as the prince leapt in front of her, his body shielding her from the attack. 

They are both knocked down, the Prince grunts as sharp pains rock through his shoulder and side.  Adara winced as her whole body ached, her head hit the floor painfully and blood dripped down her forehead where the beast caught her. 

  White.  White fur spotted with blood surrounded them.  Looking up, they were face to face with a creature that Adara had never seen before.  It was enormous, as tall as a troll, but hulking in size.  It was snarling, growling at everyone and everything.  Large white teeth that had flesh and blood dripping from them.

  Adara took her knives and went to stab the thing, but the prince's hand shot out and grabbed her hand.  She frowned, turning her head slowly to look at him, but he was not scared.  Or frightened.  Or ready to kill the creature.  He looked — he looked something like happy.

  "Nacajii," he says, and the beast suddenly stops growling.  It looked slowly down to him, its black nose pushes against the prince's forehead.  Its mouth closes, its eyes shut tightly as the prince sits up, wrapping his arms around its neck.

  Adara rolls onto her stomach and crawls out from beneath the creature, climbing to her feet.  She watched the small man hug the giant beast.  The beast he seemed to know would not hurt him.  Those red eyes creep open, staring at her. 

  Raiali, who was preoccupied with pouring himself a drink, suddenly turned around.  He choked on the alcoholic liquid.  "What in the hell is that?" He blinks hesitantly.  The drink slips from the inside of his mouth back into the cup, slamming it down on the bar-top.

  "That is what I would like to know," Fashuda growls, "why are we not murdering the thing that killed one of our brothers?"

  "Her name is Nacajii," The prince pulls away from the thing, standing beside her.  "She is not a thing, she is not a beast, she is a wolf," he hisses, turning his hand over her thick fur on the side of her neck.  "She is my friend," he says quietly as he places a small kiss on the wolf's head.

  "It needs to be put down for what it has done," Fashuda says angrily, "blood for blood."

  Adara whirls on him, "have you no sense?" She growls, "You never wanted blood when Dasheem ordered me dead."  She raises a dagger, "you never wanted blood when I told you Tal'anga tortured me," she hisses.

  Fashuda was silent at that.

  "None of you are going to even so much as raise your voice at her," Adara spins, making eye contact with each man in the room.  "There is no telling what she or I may do," Adara growls, "so threaten us again and you sill regret it," she warns.

  "We need to talk," Adara whispers in the prince's ear.  They walk across the floor and down the hallway, gliding into her room, shutting the door and locking it.  She presses her forehead against the door as Nacajii sniffs around the room. 

  "I know you still have questions for me," Adara murmurs, "but you need to explain."  She glances at the wolf that was pressing its nose on her dresser drawers.  "Now, please," she sits on the edge of her bed, Exriam crawls onto her lap, watching the wolf practically prance around the room.

  The prince sighs, running a hand through his hair as he sits beside her.  "Elodous," the prince says, looking at her carefully for any sign that she understands, but she just stares at him.  "He was one of your kingdoms' kings, a long time ago before your kingdom took the Fae Islands from my kingdom." 

  The Fae Islands were once a part of the Golden Kingdom, where elves originate, but Elodous fought their King and it was taken.  Elodous was an elven King, the last elven king before he was overthrown and orcs and trolls dominated the glass lands.  He was a peaceful king and he knew he had to reclaim his homelands.  So he did.

  "He believed that the Kingdoms could one day be reunited, and so he gave one of my ancestors, King Aurelius, four stones," he continues, taking a deep breath.  "He buried the stones and Elodous told him that there was a prophecy that the true peacekeepers would be born and the stones would awaken mighty peacekeeping guides; beasts," he whispers.

  "When my brother was born, the first stone woke," he says numbly. 

  "A brother?" She asks quietly, she thought it was simply just him and his sister.

  "Yes, I once had an older brother, before I was born," he says quietly.  "He was four, his guide was a bear," he whispers, "but someone broke into his room and murdered both Adrian and his guide, Cassali."

  "Then I was born," he continues, "and the second stone woke, bringing my guide Nacajii, a wolf," he smiles as Nacajii lies down, resting her head on his knees.  "Then Aehlsy was born, and the third woke, bringing Lupios, her saber."

  "And the fourth?" She asks.

  "It woke on its own," he whispers, "I do not know how I know, but Exriam is the fourth stone," he points at the dragon that clung to her leg.  "I can feel it, he did not wake with you when you were born, he woke when you decided to help me," he frowns, "right?"

  "I don't know," Adara starts, but he doesn't let her finish.

  "And technically you were not the one that he came to in the first place, but I feel it in my blood that he is the fourth stone," he holds a hand out to the dragon, letting it sniff him.  "There is no other possibility, it has to be you then," he looks at Adara, "you are the fourth peacekeeper."

  "You truly believe in prophecies?" Adara asks quietly.

  "You don't?" He asks, "your people have dabbled with magic since the beginning of time."  He sounded like a small child, enjoying fairy-tales.  "Your shamans used to use magic, real magic, it used to be real," his eyes seemed to shine.

  "Magic was banned after Elodous' reign ended," Adara sighs, "because it was hurting people."  She blinks hesitantly, "that is why our shamans now practice with real medicine, not magic." 

  "But you do believe in magic, so you have to believe in prophecies," he frowns, "right?"

  "I suppose," Adara sighs, "but magic is dangerous, dangerous enough to wipe out entire cities."  She frowns, "how could you trust a prophecy considering how dangerous it and the magic that was used to find it is?"

  "I trust it regardless of how dangerous it is," he says quietly, "like how I trust you."

  "I am nowhere close to the same level of power or danger that magic is," Adara laughed as she stood, Exriam launches off of her and glides across the room to her dresser-top.  Nacajii jumps up, bouncing across the room and following the dragon closely.  "I understand your point, but how am I one of the peacekeepers?"

  "I guess because you are helping my sister and I put an end to this war," he sighs, "the war to end all the wars."

  "I'm sorry," Adara whispers quietly, watching him stand to he next to her.

  "For what?" He frowns, wondering if maybe his comment on trusting her was too far.  They were enemies and he helped to kill her entire family.  She could never forgive him for that and he knew it. 

  "Your brother," she smiles, "I am sorry for your loss." 

  He just smiled, "what happened, happened," he sighs.  "I never got to meet him, I never knew him," he shrugs his shoulders.

  They stood in silence for a while, watching Nacajii and Exriam chase one another around the room, jumping over the bed and crawling under it, like children.  They both smiled at their playfulness.  They were, in many ways, children.

  "So your sister has a guide," Adara whispers.

  "Lupios," he smiles, "He is possibly one of the most well-behaved of our guides."  They watch as Exriam climbs onto Nacajii's back, climbing slowly to her head.  "He is sneaky and wise and brave," he smiles, "much like my sister."

  "Your sister is beautiful," Adara smiles.

  "Yes, she is," he sighs, looking upset, "Three times, three times I have kept her from being married off."  He rolls his eyes as he leans against the wall, "Father is relentless and wants her to begin giving him grandchildren."

  "How disgusting," Adara frowns.

  "I am worried about what they are going to do while I am gone," he runs another hand through his hair.  Nacajii notices and rushes to his side, lowering her head and bumping his shoulder, tugging his arm down.  "I told my father three weeks and it has been so much longer than that, and I really am fearful of what he might do."

  "You think he will attack on Xarenth?" Adara asks quietly.

  "There is no telling what he will do," he says, "he is an unpredictable, dangerous man."  He sighs, putting an arm around Nacajii.  "I fear he will make things worse," he continues, "having people killed is kind of his expertise."

  "At least our kings have something in common," Adara sighs.

  "I just fear that we are running out of time," he says quietly, "and I want to kill your king once and for all, but if we rush we will be sloppy and I don't want to fail."

  "We will not fail," she says sternly, "that is not an option."  She stares him deeply in the eyes.  "And if your father poses a threat, we will handle him."  He looked deeply at her, nodding slowly, she was right.  He could never kill his father, but they could talk to him and make him see reason.  They could do that.

  "I want this to be over," the prince frowns, Adara did too.  "We have almost died too many times, and Octavian," he begins, but he stops, sighing.  "I am tired too," he whispers.

  "Yeah," she whispers back.

  "You never told me why you would not stay at the inn," he says quietly.  Adara's eyes widen and suddenly she felt as though she were tied back onto the bed.  "If something happened, I should know."

  Adara clears her throat as Exriam hisses, jumping to his mothers' shoulder.  "Well, you know that when we escaped you were hurt and I was, seeing things," she whispers, "I thought you were going to die if I did not find us a place to stay."  She sits down on the bed slowly.

  "I begged the innkeeper to let us stay, because I knew you would die," she continues, "and I told him I would give him whatever he wanted so that I could fix you."

  "I wandered off after patching you up, and he found me," she remembers him knocking her down, "he hit me," she winces, "and he took me to a room apart from the rest.  She blinks hesitantly, "he tied me to his bed and he used me."

  There was another wave of silence.

  "You should have told me," he grit his teeth, "and I would have killed him right then and there."  He clenches his fists together, "he had no right."

  "We were in no shape to hurt anyone," she whispers.  It was the truth, and it hurt him.

  "You got hurt, because of me," he grimaces, frowning.  "I can not handle that," he whispers. 

  "It is not your fault," she frowns.

  "He abused you," he growls, "and you were in that situation because of me."  Nacajii growls beside him, a deep and thunderous rumble.  "So it is my fault, and I couldn't protect you," he whispers.

  "It doesn't matter now," she whispers, "because we are alive, that is all that matters."

  She takes his hand gently and sits down with him on the bed, leaning her head gently onto his shoulder.  Nacajii climbs onto the bed, curling around them, her head rests on the prince's lap as the two lay onto her side.  Exriam crawls into Adara's lap, his eyes close slowly.

  They did not even know that outside a bird circled the building, a handwritten note to the prince tight in its graspz