Outlines of snow-covered roads faded into the black sky. Snowflakes fell like stars onto my skin, twinkling out into droplets as they melted. It was quiet; almost dreamlike. I sat by the side of the road with my knees pressed to my chest for warmth. Home was far down the mountain pass. It would take hours in the cold, dead of night to get there.

I let out a breath; a cloud escaped my mouth. Getting up to keep going, I checked my surroundings. The streets were empty, yet I heard a crunch of icy snow. I pulled close to a street lantern, flames burning inside it, I couldn’t see anything. Frozen stiff, I listened to see if it would move again. The wind whistled past my ears. It was just nerves. It was late; I was tired. My only idea was to find an inn to stay the night. Usually, there was some kind of sign or glowing windows to bring in guests.
My hands trembled as I grabbed a cigarette from my bag to calm my nerves. The six or so cigarettes I had left were kept safe in a little wooden box. They would only slow my mind for a few minutes. Anxiety would take over again, make my heart freeze into ice, and my blood run just as cold. My hands cupped over it and struck a match. When the flame met the end, I finally felt some comfort then it suffocated me.

Every shop on the street was closed. Frost covered their windows, and their doors were locked. At this hour there was no business to do, and it looked like no inn among the shops. Smoke rose past the snow-covered thatched roofs of houses from their fireplaces. Not a soul in this wealthy district here wouldn't let in a complete stranger. There was no way out of the streets into a warm bed. No soft linens or plush pillows.

The noise of crackling snow broke the silence again. It moved slowly behind me, stopped when I stopped. Then continued when I started to walk again. Walking turned into a sprint through the alleyways. There was a set of stairs going to a private estate. I hurried down. Then pressed my back to the door. It was moments behind me; I compressed myself to be smaller. The footsteps went cautiously like an animal stalking.

Realization hit that hiding would be useless. My tracks in the snow were leading right to me. Was he after me again? Would I have to run until my legs gave out. Collapse on my knees and beg for forgiveness like a sinner. Living like this, even the mere thought of him made my stomach churn. I slammed into the wooden door, throwing it open. Then turned swiftly to close it.
That stupid action sent stinging up my shoulder. I tried to stay quiet, not let out a single whimper or tear. My back slid against the wall. I struck another match to bring a torch on the wall alive so I could see around me.

An old wine cellar with cobwebs hung like Creation Day ornaments. How fitting. Yet cruel. The room had another set of stairs. It looked like it was connected to a house. It couldn't be a tavern judging that there was only a small collection of wines.

A smell from upstairs was drifting from the staircase. There was something cooking. In my mind, I pictured a pot of beef stew over a fire, left simmering for tomorrow with chunks of potatoes and little sliced up carrots. Still out of reach, just like the inn.
To lie down and finally feel safe was all I wanted. In my own bed I couldn't close my eyes. Shadows on the walls felt scary, but I'm too old to believe in an imaginary monster. The monster slept beside me, not under the bed. My fingers tightened around the torch as I pulled it from the wall. I watched the fire dance like two twirling figures.

Earlier tonight, at the secluded mansion at the top of the mountain, I was the visitor of the Lord of the Capital. His name was Joseph Polaris, a name beloved by the people. Joseph was a good person. That’s why I only visited him when it was too dark to tell who was leaving.

A silver chandelier hung over the office, its flames dancing. The room smelled of expensive cologne: ambergris, rosewood, and tobacco. Paintings of the snow-covered city lined the walls. I sat on a stiff leather chair at a large white desk before a bookshelf. Papers and letters were neatly organized beside me. In front of me was a spellbook and his glass pen. Studying was growing tiresome. Boots clicked on the marble floors, approaching me.

“Narcis,” The lord called. He tucked his head into my neck and almost spilled his wine over me. “You need to unwind a little.”

“I'm okay.” I tensed as he kissed me, drunkenly giggling afterwards in my ear. I shifted in my seat and gave him a smile. My attention went back to the spellbook in front of me.

“My dove, don't you think it will help?” He lowered his glass to me. “Or maybe a cigarette?”

“I'm okay.” I held up my hand and hoped he would leave it at that.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes and frowned.

I pulled the spellbook off the table and traced the letters with my fingertips. “What if I just give up on studying? At least for a while.”

His tail of peacock feathers softly folded open like a fan. He scoffed. “Don't you want power? Are you ever tired of feeling weak?” He nudged the glass forward.

My eyes went to it. I shook my head. “I'm not getting any better.”

Claws tensed around my arm. He squeezed me until it hurt and I couldn't move. Then let go.

“What if I were someone who actually wanted to hurt you?”

Don't play his game: that's what I learned over the years. “If you aren't, what's in the glass? Is it poisoned?”

Lord Polaris took a wine bottle from the cabinet and popped the cork. He poured a fresh glass of sweet red wine. “It's not my fault you can't handle your liquor.”

My lips pursed. “I've drunk Vodka with North. It's higher proof and doesn't make me sick.”

“Vodka was the same as water in my youth. It just means you have good taste.”

In a fit of anger, I slammed my hands down on the table. “If there is nothing in it you drink it.”

The lord gave me a genuine smile. It almost made me second-guess myself. He tipped the glass into his mouth, but didn’t swallow. Without warning, his lips were on mine. He didn't give me time to react. His fingers were latched to my chin. I felt liquid go down my throat, and the stinging of alcohol. Disgusted, I pushed away and gagged.

“Fuck! What is wrong with you!?” I yelled. A bittersweet taste lingered on my tongue. My breaths got deep and heavy.

He laughed, amused. “Relax.” He grabbed the other glass and took a sip. He never had enough, he would indulge and indulge. Until he was bored.

“You are useless! You aren't even helping!” I knocked the books from the desk. He spun me around to him.

“Gods. You are so pathetic.” He pushed my shoulder. “Why even try? You are still weak. Is that why you want to give up?”

The space between us got smaller. My eyes stayed on his cold blue ones, my hand looked for something on the desk behind me.

“You have the blood of a powerful mage and you are going to waste it? Going to try and pick up a sword?” He snorted, “Magic is the only chance you have from the world swallowing you whole.”

My fingers wrapped around the neck of the wine bottle. I swung. He caught it, then swung it back harder. Shards of glass punctured my cheek. I felt blood run down. My knees hit the floor. I started coughing and gagging like there was fluid in my throat, until I spat a bloodied tooth out into my hand.

The lord stared down at me in his twisted sense of pity. “I'll heal you, then why don't you rest? It'll give you time to reconsider.”

He’s acting nice when he’s the one who attacked me. With enough force to knock down an adult man. Is this supposed to be an apology? I let him tend to my wounds. Gently, he dried the blood away and used magic to attempt to soothe the pain. He was a gifted healer, but whenever he used that silver colored magic to mend my wounds, it felt like needles digging into my skin. My eyes were getting heavy but I fought it off.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

Liar.

I knew I had to get out.

He told me there was nothing in that wine. I wasn't just drifting off; it was poisoned. After the stinging, that sweet aftertaste always followed. Every last drink that would make me feel ill had the taste of honey. It wasn't to kill me; I would pass out like I was overly intoxicated. Alcohol just does that to a boy my size, was what he told me. I believed him. Lies were his special spell; he'd always cast them when I was in doubt.

As I sat on the cobblestone floor, I realized I'm just waiting for him to find me and open the door. Maybe he was waiting outside, waiting for me to apologize. My fingers went around the door handle. They lingered there, but I couldn't do it.
Twenty minutes went by until my decision was made. Slowly walking I went back to the street. Running wouldn't lead me anywhere; it circled back to the mansion secluded on the hill. After all this time they were still in the alleyways. Around the corner was a boy with white hair, still in pajamas, and a thick wool cloak. The lord wasn't with him, no one was. Why was he alone this late?

I recognized him instantly but held off on saying anything.

North’s eyes frantically looked around while he shielded his face from the cold. He moved slowly, too afraid to be caught himself. Couldn’t bring himself to trespass onto someone's property so he was watching the front door of the estate. Might even be considering knocking after waiting this long.

“You scared me.”

His eyes widened and he ran to me, “What are you doing? I saw you outside from my window.”

“Nothing. I planned on coming to your house, work went a little longer than I expected.”

“Then why didn't you? It's freezing out here!” He shivered, holding onto himself.

I shrugged, “It's late.”

“This isn't the first time I've seen you out.”

A sudden feeling of fear rushed over me. Anything was better than the truth. “I trust you. I've been stealing things for extra money. Nothing big. Don’t tell anybody.”

North lunged for my bag. I latched my hands onto the leather strap.

“Drop it!” I shouted. I used my entire weight, and he used his.

North was taller and naturally stronger than me. My money, cigarettes, and matchbox fell into the snow.
He grabbed the cigarettes. “You stole my uncle's cigarettes?!” he said bewildered. It was an expensive brand, he knew I couldn't buy them.

A smile grew on my face, “He won’t even notice.” I suppressed a laugh. It was so easy to lie to him, I didn't even have to try.
“That’s not funny. He got you a job at the church, why are you stealing from him?”

I paid no attention to him, “Won’t do it again.” I pulled my bag back over my shoulder, collecting my things.

“What else have you stolen?”

“Don't remember.” Another easy lie. Countless things did end up in my bag that weren't mine. I slipped back down the alleyway.

“I’m not going to just let you leave.” The boy stomped his foot.

“What?” I sneered, “Going to tell your uncle I took half a box of cigarettes? I'm doing him a favor."

“What?”

“I think it's rotting his teeth.” I see why Lord Polaris lied so often. You could spin a tale just how you wanted it, and someone with a bleeding heart would believe you. “So do you really have to tell him?”

“No. Let's just get you home.”

Taken aback, I sat down on one of the shop's stairways. I hunched over fidgeting with my hands. Even as a thief, while I insult his flesh and blood, he still takes pity on me. Does he care about me that much or is it a trick?

North sat next to me. “He's never taken a liking to my friends. I thought you two got along. Sometimes I think he likes you more than me. He says I'll never be talented with magic or…anything really. But he taught you.”

“We used to get along, when he was actually nice to me. You know he owns the land where I live?”

“That's just his job,” North laughed, “where do you think the title land-lord comes from?”

My eyes rolled, “Don't make me feel more stupid,” I snapped. "He jacked up my rent.”

“I didn't know he did that.” North slowly said, “Why would he do that?”

I snagged the box from him, “Same reason he gives me these, that fucking parasite.”

“You said you stole them…”

Striking a match, I lit one and put it to my lips. “Sometimes, I do. He really doesn't notice, he just thinks he smoked them all. I wasn't completely lying. He gave me these.”

“He's giving you drugs?” My friend's eyes widened.

Ideas came into my head. A world could exist where I wasn't afraid. At least as afraid. “Would that be bad? I mean I wanted cigarettes. I might have even asked before. Would that still be bad?”

“It's illegal for one. He could-” North paused, “Well I suppose he can't get in trouble, but it's not good!”

“Then why would it be bad if nothing can be done about it? He's not going to jail. He's the Lord.”

“He's the savior of this kingdom. People look up to him. I do. He's a good man.” His brows squeezed together, “Right?”

“You don't get things for free.”

“It's not just the cigarettes is it?” Worries plagued his voice as he asked.

I shook my head, tears streaming down my scarred cheek. North embraced me without question. This was the last cigarette, I threw it into the snow, and held my friend close.