The Princess' Harem
Chapter 63: Allies in the Shadows

Chapter 63: Allies in the Shadows

As Viana and Joel slipped away from Ren’s campsite, the forest seemed to hold its breath. The first hints of dawn painted the sky in muted grays, casting long shadows across the mossy ground.

The air was heavy with the scent of pine and dew, and they moved silently, until they reached the hidden clearing where their horses waited.

Joel untied the reins with fluid movements. "We’ve got a few hours before we’re expected back at the tavern," he said, his voice low. "Enough time to plan how we sell this lie to Kess."

Viana mounted her horse, the eagle-emblazoned medal cold against her palm as she tucked it into her cloack.

"We tell him the scout’s gone, show him the medal, and act like we’ve done his dirty work," she said. "But if he’s as sharp as he seems, one wrong move could unravel everything."

However, her tone was edge with unease, even though she tried to press it. Joel, noticing the unease, swung into his saddle, his brown eyes catching her green eyes in the dim light.

"Then we don’t make mistakes, Princess."

He flashed a teasing smile, but there was a warmth in his gaze the made Viana’s heart skip. "You handled Ren well back there. I almost believed you were just a lost merchant."

Viana rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched upward. "And you enjoyed playing the shadowy assassin a bit too much, Elias."

She urged her horse forward, while said with a softer tone, "Let’s just hope Kess buys our story as easily as Ren did."

They rode through the forest, the trail winding back toward the port town. As they neared the forest’s edge, Joel slowed his horse, his expression turning serious.

"Your Highness," he said, dropping the playful tone, "if we’re going to play Kess, we need to be sure about Ren. He’s got guts, but trusting him is a gamble. If he’s lying—or if he gets caught—we’re the ones who’ll pay."

Viana met his gaze, then answered with a resolute tone. "He’s not lying. You saw his eyes when he spoke about the captives. That kind of anger isn’t faked."

She hesitated, then added, "But you’re right. We can’t rely on him completely. For now, we use his information to get closer to Arin, but we keep our own plans tight."

Joel nodded, a flicker of admiration shown in his eyes. "Spoken like a true princess. Or a true spy."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Just promise me you’ll stay sharp out there. I’d hate to lose my favorite partner."

Viana’s breath caught, the closeness of his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

"Don’t gent sentimental on me, Joel," she said, but her tone was softer than she intended, betraying the warmth spreading through her chest. "We’ve got work to do."

He chuckled, urging his horse forward. "Work, yes. But I’m holding you to that smile you promised."

***

The port town was stirring as they returned, the first merchants setting up stalls along the cobblestone streets. The scent of fresh bread mingled with the salty tang of the sea, and gulls circled above the docks, their cries sharp in the early morning air.

Viana and Joel stabled their horses at a small inn on the outskirts, their cloaks drawn tight to avoid curious glances. They needed rest, but more importantly, they needed a plan.

In the dim privacy of their rented room, Viana spread a rough map of the northern trade routes on the table, its edges worn from travel. The eagle medal sat beside it, glinting under the flicker of a single candle.

Joel leaned over the map, tracing the forest trail with a finger.

"Kess said the caravans move through here," he said, tapping a winding path. "If Ren’s right, they’re not just carrying goods. We need to confirm it ourselves before we confront Kess. If we go to him with the medal and a story, he’ll expect details."

Viana nodded, her mind racing. "We say we tracked the scout, ambushed him, and took the medal as proof. We describe a fight—nothing too dramatic, just enough to sound convincing. But we need to know what Kess knows about Arin. If we push too hard, hell shut us out."

Joel’s hand brushed hers as he adjusted the map, a fleeting touch that sent a spark through her. He didn’t pull away immediately, and for a moment, their eyes locked.

"You’re good at this," he said quietly. "Better than I expected when we started this."

Viana swallowed, her heart pounding. "You’re not so bad yourself," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But don’t let it go to your head."

He grinned, breaking the tension, but the air between them felt charged, like the moment before a storm.

"Too late," he said, stepping back to give her space. "Now, let’s make sure our story’s airtight. Kess isn’t the type to miss a loose thread."

They spent the next hour crafting their deception: the scout’s supposed hideout, a brief struggle, the medal as their trophy. Viana suggested adding a detail about the scout fleeing north, implying he was too scared to return—a touch that would satisfy Kess’s ego.

Joel proposed mentioning a broken bow they "found" at the campsite, a plausible detail to flesh out the tale. Every word was chosen with care, their voices low as the town woke around them.

As the candle burned low, Viana felt that what once was just simple curiosity about Arin’s activities was now becoming more difficult to bear. They were no longer just spies chasing a traitor; they were defying a network of slavers—a new network that was—gambling their lives on a fragile alliance with Ren.

She never doubted on Joel’s skill as the Mercenary King, or the unspoken bond growing between her and Joel.

Joel stood, stretching his arms.

"We should get some rest before tonight. Kess will expect us at the tavern, and we need to look like we’ve been through a fight, not a debate."

He paused, then added, "You take the bed. I’ll keep watch by the window."

Viana shook her head. "We both need sleep, Joel. The floor’s fine for me."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his eyes. "A princess on the floor? What would the court say?"

She tossed a spare cloak at him, laughing despite herself. "They’d say you’re a terrible host. Now shut up and rest."

As they settled in the small room, the faint sound of waves drifted through the window. Viana lay on her cloak, her thoughts torn between Kess’s piercing gaze, Ren’s haunted words, and the steady rhythm of Joel’s breathing nearby.