Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 72: Ch. 72: A Weird Kid Named Jack

I can only temporarily forget today’s madness when the marketplace, the same one I saw on the fateful day the royal guard stormed Bianca’s little home, unfolds before us.

The lively atmosphere, with the fragrant spices from all over the empire reaching my nose, and the colorful expressions on the painted masks hung in wooden kiosks, this market feels more like a place I could get used to than the frigid palace.

The first order of business is buying a map, the pricey hand-drawn information costing a little more than Emma and I expected. But we don’t have a choice in the matter. Making it to Belhelm is a matter of life and death. The precious scrap of paper, with eye-popping colors delineating between busy roads, quiet shortcuts, dangerous passes, and bodies of water, is even more useful than I could’ve anticipated.

“The attention to detail on this,” I marvel, turning it around in my hands as I observe the straight lines and drawings. Even if we go hungry a couple of days from now, with this treasure in our hands, it’s totally worth it.

I look up to see Emma’s head in the clouds, her head slowly swiveling side to side and taking in the sights. I grin a bit despite myself, the only child in me suddenly feeling like I’ve gained a younger sibling. The confusion in her eyes is positively adorable when I get on my tiptoes and ruffle her black bob a little.

In the busy terrain that the capital’s marketplace is, I have a simple cap on, not particularly unusual as this is a place where street urchins and average people move about in unison. I can see street stall owners pass a cursory, suspicious glance over us, perhaps to see if we look like the thieving type, before they move on to smile and call for potential customers.

“They’re looking to see if we are impoverished snatchers or belong to a street gang, your highness,” Emma answers my silent question as we move unhindered.

.....

“And what do they see?” I ask, curious for her insight.

“We are clean, clothed properly without holes, and don’t wear a red or blue armband. They feel that they have nothing to worry about.” It’s true. Aside from the minimal dried flakes of blood around my mouth, we must look quite ordinary.

My tongue is still stinging and the swelling has made it so fat that speaking feels a tad difficult. But the difficulties we are undergoing do little to diminish my spirit now that my entire being has escaped like a canary from the cage that is the imperial palace.

I catch Emma once more surveying the area suspiciously when we catch a break, leaning against some crates of fish with an overly fragrant aroma thanks to the hot sun.

I pinch my nose and finally say, “It’s alright, Emma. Empress Katya won’t announce my departure from the palace so we won’t be hunted down by foot. What do you keep looking around so avidly for?”

“My friend, your highness,” Emma says solemnly. Her hand flutters around the pocket of her dress, where I know her dagger is hidden.

“Is he a good friend? And how would he even know to find us?” I inquire carefully. The afternoon sun bears down on my pale skin, turning it a splotchy red that’s a bit itchy. I dreadfully miss my stunning tan skin from my previous life, which only bronzed under the sun.

I have faith in Emma not to endanger us and to have good judgment, but at the end of the day, we are 2 kids in a dangerous world. My jaw clenches as I find myself looking around as well.

“Where is he? Why did you invite him? Did you not have faith we could make it on our own?” I ask a bit harshly, standing up from crates so quickly that the top one nearly falls over. My intense questioning falls flat as I balance the smelly container, fish juices pouring over my exposed hands.

Emma is nice enough to rinse my hands off with a bit of water. “You won’t find him by looking, your highness,” she murmurs the faintest hint of a laugh in her voice. I look at her incredulously. Did this stoney little girl sound... amused? But her face doesn’t crack or blush as I stare skeptically.

“When Jack wants you to know he’s here, you’ll know,” she trails off. My hands still stink up a storm, but at the very least they are semi-clean.

“So... what’s the signal going to be then? A flare? A flag?” I try to pry answers from Emma but her lips are sealed tighter than Fort Knox.

“Ok, or just don’t tell me. That’s totally fine too,” I pout, leaning back on the crates as if it didn’t nearly fall on me a minute prior. A faint breeze runs through the busy market, cooling off the intensity of the heat to a pleasurable level. A yawn escapes my mouth, then another. I’m about to drift off to lalaland for a short nap when I hear the first cry.

“Fire! Fire! Quick some water!” a shop owner cries, the oil slick rags he’s beating his kabobs with doing little to temper the flames.

Emma stands up from where she had been seated still as a rock for the past hour, her shadow the only thing moving as time ticked by. Seeing her move, I put two and two together.

“Oh! Oh, so this is the signal? That’s... original...” my voice trails off as our originally peaceful corner of the market dissolves into mayhem. Splayed over several blocks and intersected with the actual stores on the streets, the marketplace is a sprawling bedlam of metropolitan life and while hectic, maintained a degree of calm. But that veneer is gone, as one stall after another suddenly catch fire, prompting shrieks and cries of unholy interference.

“Holy Akira! I knew I should’ve gone to mass last weekend. Helio, forgive me!” a portly man rushes past, abandoning his crude pastry cart in the din. Standing behind Emma, who truly is my Prince Charming, we retreat into an alley as the area clears out in minutes, revealing one calm soul who is drinking in the scene generously.

Black boots, rolled-up brown trousers, off-kilter suspenders with one tumbling off his shoulder, and a worn blazer 2 sizes too big. All topped off with the signature smile of a kid getting too big for his britches. Jack. Clever Jack, he says. I nearly snort, but my years in the imperial palace have tempered my snarkiness somewhat. I’m sure my eyes are thoroughly disapproving though.

“Hmm, what fun have you brought today Emma? It’s been dreadfully boring down at the Gold District without your quick hands. Finally seen that the high life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and decided to rough it with us?” the brat asks, hardly appearing to be any older than Emma yet still trying his hardest to sound slick.

This time, the snort does come out.

Warm chestnut eyes wander over to where I am, the gaze surprisingly jaded for someone as young as he is.

“So...,” he asks Emma without looking away from me, “This is the passenger you were referring to?”

“Yes. My... sister,” she replies. My heart swells at her response.

Jack looks between the two of us incredulously, a mocking smirk hanging from his lips. Without much ado, he leans back and breaks into an obnoxious laugh, one that is easily heard in the abandoned, burning section of the marketplace and is echoed by the young cronies behind him. His mouth opens wide and his teeth appear extra white, like the laugh of a conman before he fleeces you for all you’ve got.

“Are we claiming relations with strangers now, Emma? I think you know better than I who your real siblings are,” he sauntered close, looking at Emma with a daring look as he entered her personal space. Emma, who has always been my favorite little stoic, finally expresses a little emotion, her lips pulling into a straight line. Jack’s hit a nerve.

With the proximity between the two kids, I have the opportunity to stare hard at them both. Jack has inky black hair that curls lazily at the ends, the long tendrils sitting unruly on his head like a little pirate in training. It echoes Emma’s black hair and suddenly I feel like I can see a mild resemblance in their arched brows and cupid’s bow. My eyes widen involuntarily, wondering if I’ve just met one of Emma’s immediate relatives.

“Oh no, passenger. We aren’t blood siblings,” he waves a lazy finger between the two of them. “Just cousins.”

“Distant,” Emma spits out.

“But her real siblings they’re,” Jack spins in a dramatic circle before pointing his finger to the ground. “Down there! With the rest of the family. Isn’t that right, Emma?”

The two stare hard at each other, Jack’s infuriating smile driving home his statement. The brat leans in close again, a master at pushing buttons. It seems that we may have a budding basket case on our hands if he isn’t considered one already.

“Enough. If Emma wanted a recap of her family history, I’m sure her own memories will suffice. Now back up before your breath makes this narrow alleyway unbearable,” I finally cut in, unable to take the silent stare off any longer.

Jack obliges, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he backs out of the narrow gap, expertly maneuvering around a barrel in his way. His eyes glint with renewed interest as he looks at me the way a kid would look at a new toy.

“Quite the friend, huh?” I mutter to Emma as I strut past her out in the market. To my surprise, the flames are already dying down and everything seems largely unharmed. Aside from the well-cooked kebabs, the kebab stand appears as it did before, only this time without customers.

Jack grabs a jam-filled pastry from the pudgy man’s cart, taking two wolfish bites as he looks over me.

“Who is she?” he asks between his loathsome, open-mouthed chewing, using the but end of the pasty to point at me.

“She’s with me,” Emma answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I can tell,” Jack replies as if coaxing a baby. “But does she have a name? I can’t very well call her passenger the whole time can I?”

“The passenger’s name is Maria. Clever Maria, since we seem to be handing out titles easily these days,” I reply snidely, walking past Jack to grab a snack on my own. The bread and cheese in my own pack will definitely get tiresome so I might as well enjoy the variety early in the journey while I can.

Emma jerks slightly at my choice of name, perhaps assuming I am honoring Marie with it. If only she knew where the name really comes from.

“Well then, passenger,” Jack stands up and dusts his hands off as he enunciates the p, “where can I take you? And what are you doing with our beloved crew member?”

“Crew member?” I answer.

Jack grins, his adult teeth too big for his mouth and ruining the menacing effect he was going for.

“Dear cousin, do you mean to tell me that you never told your dear new sister of your past?”

For the first time since we met that fateful day at Sunset Palace, I see Emma’s face blanch.