The Princess' Harem
Chapter 66: Shadows on the Move

Chapter 66: Shadows on the Move

Viana and Joel slipped back into the port town’s crowded market, moving through the flow of merchants and sailors. The cobblestone streets were alive with voices, the scent of salt, smoked fish, and tar filling the air.

Gulls screeched overhead, their wings cutting through the late afternoon sun.

Viana pulled her green hood lower, making sure she wouldn’t be recognized by anyone in the market. The unknown woman’s word—"Princess"—echoed in her mind. Her once-hidden identity was now exposed, a looming threat over them.

Joel walked beside her, his stride confident, but his brown eyes scanned every alley and shadow.

"We have until dusk to prepare," he said in a low voice. "Joining the caravan as guards gets us close to the overseer, but we need a way to watch him without tipping our hand."

Viana nodded, her thoughts racing. "We pose as mercenaries looking for work. It makes sense—Kess already thinks we are in this for money. But we need more details. The caravan’s route, its guards. If the overseer is like Kess, he will know when something feels off."

Joel’s lips curled into a faint smile. "Lucky for us, I have eyes in this town."

He leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low. "My men are spread across the port—dockworkers, tavern drunks, even a beggar by the market. They have been watching since we arrived. If something goes wrong or we need backup, they will step in."

Viana raised an eyebrow, surprise and admiration flickering across her face. "You have mercenaries here, watching everything, and you did not tell me?"

He shrugged, grin teasing. "Did not want to distract you, Princess. Besides, you were busy playing the perfect spy."

His tone softened, and there was something warm in his gaze that made her heart skip. He was undeniably a handsome man, a manly presence at that.

"They are loyal, they are careful, and I have already sent word to track the caravan. By nightfall, we will know its movements."

She shook her head, a reluctant smile forming. "You are insufferable, Elias. But... thank you."

His quiet chuckle eased some of the tension between them as they moved toward the docks. Knowing Joel had a network here changed everything.

He was not just a fighter, her was a strategist, weaving safety nets she had not seen until now. She felt both reassured and exposed, realizing how much he had planned while she had focused on Kess.

They arrived at a worn-down tavern near the piers. Its wooden sign creaked in the breeze, and inside, the air smelled of ale and burnt wood. Rough-voiced sailors and traders crowded the tables, their laughter mixing with the clatter of mugs.

Joel gave a slight nod to the bartender—a grizzeld man scrubbing tankards—who acknowledged him without a word. Another patron, hooded and nursing a drink in the corner, shifted subtly, watching their entrance

Viana had been too focused on Kess to notice Joel’s movements before. Now, realization struck—how naive she had been. Yet, in his presence, she felt safe.

"Sit," Joel murmured, leading her toward the back of the room. "We blend in and wait for my runner."

Viana settled onto the bench, keeping her cloak loose to hide her face.

"Your men—have they been watching Kess too?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Joel leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Kess and his guards. They have been at the warehouse all day, overseeing the caravan. My runner is checking for anything unusual—extra security, hidden cargo."

His expression darkened slightly. "That woman who spotted you, though? She is a problem. If she is Shadow Clan, someone already knows we are here."

Viana felt her stomach tighten as the memory of the scarred woman resurfaced. "She called me Princess. That means she knows. If she tells anyone else, we will not be able to hide."

Joel’s fingers brushed hers under the table, a brief touch that steadied her. "Then we do not hide. We use it. Let them think they have the upper hand, then turn it against them."

His brown eyes locked onto hers, fierce and unwavering. "You are not just a princess, Viana. You are the sharpest blade I have ever seen."

Her breath hitched. For a second, the noise of the tavern faded, leaving only him, steady and sure. She wanted to answer, to put words to the trust, fear, and something deeper growing between them, but nothing came.

Instead, she squeezed his hand. "Do not let that go to your head, Mercenary King."

His grin returned, but before he could reply, a skinny boy slipped between the tables and dropped a folded scrap of parchment in front of them before vanishing. Joel unfolded it, his face hardening as the read.

"The caravan is heavily guarded—the men, plus the overseer. They are hiding something under the crates, in compartments. My man heard crying, just like we did."

Viana’s fists clenched. "Captives. We cannot let them reach the north."

Joel nodded, folding the note tightly. "We join the caravan, find the overseer, and stop this from the inside. My men will track us and step in if anything goes wrong."

He leaned closer, his voice lowering. "But we need to be ready for a fight. The Clan is not playing games."

They left the tavern as the sun dipped toward the horizon, stretching long shadows across the docks. The air had dropped, the scent of salt and distant waves heavy in the evening breeze.

Viana’s thoughts tumbled—Ren’s haunted eyes, the kid in the wagon, the woman’s warning. She looked at Joel, his profile sharp against the fading light.

They moved through side streets, heading toward the forest trail where the caravan was gathering. The path was narrow, lined with old trees and moss-covered stones.

The air smelled of pine, thick with damp earth. Joel’s hand hovered near his dagger, and Viana kept pace beside him, blade at the ready.

Half a mile in, Joel lifted a hand, signaling her to stop. "Listen," he whispered.

A faint rustle came from the trees, then the snap of a twig. Viana’s pulse quickened, scanning the shadows.

Before she could move, three figures emerged—cloaked, their faces hidden, blades drawn. The eagle emblem gleamed at their belts.

"Shadow Clan," Joel muttered, stepping in front of her. "Kess’s men—or hers?"

The lead figure, a wiry man with cold eyes, smirked. "You have been asking too many questions, Elias. The overseer does not like people who pry."

Viana tightened her grip on her dagger. "Tell your overseer we are just doing our job. Unless he is afraid of scrutiny?"

The smirk faded. The man stepped forward, blade gleaming. "Big words for a princess playing spy."

Joel moved fast, his dagger meeting the man’s sword with a sharp clang. "Viana, flank them!" he ordered, pushing his attacker back.

She darted sideways, blade colliding with the second fighter’s. He was strong, but she was faster, dodging his swing and cutting across his arm.

He stumbled, but before he could recover, a crossbow bolt whistled through the air, striking his shoulder. He fell, groaning.

Joel’s men. Viana looked up, spotting a shadowed figure reloading in the treetops—a mercenary, hidden until needed. Joel dispatched his opponent swiftly, leaving the leader panting and cornered.

"Talk," Joel growled, dagger at the man’s throat. "Who is the overseer? What is Arin planning?"

The man spat, defiant. "You will meet the overseer soon enough. He has plans for your princess." He lunged, but another bolt struck his side before he could move.

Silence. Joel’s mercenary climbed down, crossbow slung over his shoulder. "You alright, boss?" he asked, nodding toward Viana. "Ma’am."

Joel clapped his shoulder. "Good timing, Torren. Any more nearby?"

Torren shook his head. "Just these three. But the caravan is moving early—tonight, not tomorrow. They are nervous."

Viana felt her stomach drop. "Tonight? We are not ready."

Joel’s jaw tightened, but his resolve burned. "We have to be. Torren, get the men in position. We join the caravan now, or we lose our chance."

Torren disappeared into the trees. Viana turned to Joel, voice low. "They knew we were coming. That woman is ahead of us."

Joel’s hand found hers, grip strong. "Then we catch up. We stop the overseer, free those captives, and burn Arin’s network to the ground."

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