"Wait! I have a plan!"

The bandit held his sword. Thirty pairs of eyes pooled upon her. Meya tried in vain to stifle her shivers as she stared into those cold, ruthless eyes.

"You—you want nothing but the dowry, right?" She held up her hands, a sign of compromise, "We dun know where it is. We really dun't, but please dun kill us yet. We'll help you find it."

For a moment that seemed to stretch forever, the bandit locked his emotionless eyes with Meya, the tip of his sword hovering inches from the redheaded maid's bowels. Meya saw the calculations in his eyes. She willed hers to show nothing but confidence in her offer, even as she thought up each sentence as she went,

"We're only a day away from Hadrian Castle. And we have—" Meya cast a reluctant glance at the bloody corpses, "five—vacancies in our entourage. We'll take you into the castle disguised as our guards. That way, you can search every nook and cranny. If 'tis handed over at the wedding, you'll be there to see."

Another sickening pause, then the bandit lowered his sword and loosened his fist. The redheaded girl collapsed, coughing and sputtering. The other maids pulled her back into their enclave. They fell into each other's embraces, rocking with hushed sobs.

Eyes still on Meya, the bandit covered the distance between them with one stride and crouched on one knee. He drove his curved sword into the ground beside Meya, sending her jolting.

"Young maiden, are you suggesting five of us infiltrate Hadrian Castle and surround ourselves with Hadrian's men while we turn over every brick, instead of forcing the truth out of your Lady here and now?"

Turn over every brick? Meya frowned as she cowered. So, it wasn't gold or land. Must be something small. Something unusual. Something specific. Were they regular thieves? Or did someone hire them to steal something in particular?

"If Lady Arinel knew, she would've said something long since. What's more important here than her life? You're right, we may or may not have it. If you kill us and find it, then that's that. If you dun, then you've lost the one lead you're never meant to have. You just said you'll improvise, right?"

Meya fired out anything and everything that came to mind, caring nothing for coherence or meaning,

"If you can't find the dowry with us, you'll have to infiltrate Hadrian Castle anyway. You found one decoy. How can you be sure there isn't more? If I was Lord Crosset and the dowry was that dangerous, why send it with me daughter? I'd send out ten fake Lady Arinels and send the real thing with the pony post. What if it's already reached the castle? What if you kill us now and the Hadrians grow suspicious? Your best option is to go with us."

Meya barely felt her lips. The bandit pored into her glowing green eyes, so she pleaded through them. Had she been less desperate, Meya would know to avoid calling any attention to her eyes in such a delicate negotiation. But somehow, the bandit wasn't put off by her eyes. Rather, he seemed...sympathetic?

Meya peered into the bandit's eyes—dark, emerald green. The same color as her dimmed eyes when she put her collar on. Could it be?

"What is your name, young maiden?" The bandit finally asked. Meya blinked,

"Meya Hild."

She went with honesty. Everyone here had seen her eyes with no collar on, anyway. Lying would be pointless at best and disastrous at worst.

The bandit frowned as if trying to recall something, then he seemed to give it up and nodded. His expression remained neutral, something that couldn't be said of any Crossetian upon hearing her name. Despite herself, Meya felt an unwitting drop of camaraderie towards the murderous bandit.

"Your argument is solid, Meya Hild, but you haven't figured out how I can be sure you won't betray us to the Hadrians once we're there."

Meya wrung her brain. The bandit was relenting, but having a jagged-edged, bloodstained sword sticking in front of your face wouldn't speed things up, no matter how desperately one wanted it to.

"You could poison them and withhold the antidote, Gillian. That'll make sure they'll cooperate with us 'til the end," suggested a thin, rat-faced bandit on Gillian—was that his name?—the head bandit's right-hand side.

Meya internally saluted Rat-Face. Brilliant suggestion, but she must make sure the playing field was level. As Gillian raised his eyebrows at his subordinate, Meya nodded her support,

"Right. A slow poison, kills in a week or something. We'll give you ours, too. For obvious reasons. Then, after the job's done, we arrange an antidote drop."

Gillian smirked. Feeling sure of how the negotiation was proceeding, Meya returned to her companions,

"I dun like having to work with them, or having me days numbered, too. But I can't think of any other way." She met eyes with the guards and maids one by one, "Since it's your lives as well, you all better say something, too."

The maids glanced at each other, then turned as one to the guards, who again threw responsibility to their leader. The head guard looked at Meya, his expression a rough mix of fear, uncertainty, and thankfulness. He settled on a resigned nod.

"I'm at my wit's end as well. So long as it keeps our Lady alive, I'm in, little lass."

At his tired go-ahead, Meya turned back to Gillian. He stood with arms crossed, patiently waiting.

"Trunt, you heard her. Do we have anything of the sort?"

A stocky bandit skulking near the maids perked up at the sound of his name, cocked his head in thought, then answered eagerly,

"Dun think so, commander. But we can stop by Old Angus's on the way. Sure he'll have somethin' that does the job."

"Then we go with Dockar's plan." Gillian nodded in satisfaction, then turned to his hostages.

"Very well, Crossetians. It seems you'll live for another few days thanks to little Meya Hild." He carelessly indicated Meya with his sword, spattering a few drops of blood on her face, then swung it towards the five dead guards,

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"Do what you must for the dead, but make it swift and bring us clean uniforms. First light tomorrow, we move out."

As Gillian ordered his men to set up camp, the guards toddled uncertainly towards their departed comrades.

Muffled noises issued from the white carriage. It must have been going on for a while, but no one noticed due to the high-stakes negotiations unfolding before them.

"Lady, no you mustn't—it's dangerous!"

"Let go of me—I said, let go!"

After a final screech, the carriage door burst open, revealing the young Lady of Crosset, flanked by her two trusted servants. Though sheltered from the battle outside, she was red-faced and panting, her golden curls tangled and lopsided. The nurse and the masked maid were in similar shape. There must have been another fight going on inside.

"Lady Arinel!"

The maids gasped in fright as the Lady swept down the steps. Some shot furtive glances at Meya. They'd forgotten about the Lady and went ahead with the bargain without her consent. From the look in her flaring blue eyes, she wasn't too impressed with the outcome, either.

"I am the one who must open my betrothed's home to these lowlifes. Have you forgotten?" Arinel snapped, cold fire spitting from every word, eyes scouring the clearing for the insolent maid who volunteered her whole entourage for a castle heist,

"Do you not consider it necessary to consult my opinion beforehand?"

"My lady, we—" The head guard rushed in to pacify his charge. Meya stood up, declaring herself the culprit and calling Arinel's glare to her.

Meya wasn't sure what had driven her to do so. Perhaps it was the fear that Arinel would derail their fragile pact, that the bandits would revert to their initial plan, slaughter them all, then root through their corpses. Perhaps she couldn't trust the head guard to handle Arinel. Maybe she was insulted that Arinel had watched from the sidelines then came gliding in by the end just to speak her mind. Whatever it was, she trembled just to keep it in check.

"Thank Freda you're finally out for some fresh air, milady."

Meya greeted through gritted teeth as Arinel's eyes slanted to her, injecting an extra dose of venom into that last word.

"Before we hear your opinion, would you care to heed the voices of the living whether they still want to die in the rotten name of Crosset?"

She'd barely finished when Arinel slapped her bleeding cheek so forcefully it sent her staggering. She spun around in confusion and anger. Arinel lowered her hand, panting.

"How dare you." Her whisper trembled with fury, "How—dare—you!"

"If even you dun know where that dowry is, tell us what else we can do." Meya rolled her lips, drinking the blood trickling into her mouth, shouting, "You're our Lady, for Freda's sake. Do something!"

Arinel stared, her lips so tightly pursed they became lines.

"I choose death." She faltered back, "Do whatever you want. I'd rather rot in this forest than breathe shame upon the name of Crosset."

"Milady, no!"

The old nurse threw herself at her beloved charge in despair. Arinel looked like she had been cursed into stone. She stood rigid and pale, staring resolutely ahead. Meya gawked, dumbfounded for a beat, before anger consumed her. Her heart thundering, she clenched her hands into fists,

"You choose death, you say?" She cocked her head, "Typical of you blue-blooded folk. You dun give two farts, do you, what will become of us long as you got off easy?"

Arinel pursed her lips, confirming with silence. Meya gnashed her teeth,

"These men died so you can live. And you say you choose death?"

She jabbed her finger at the bloody corpses in the arms of the living guards. The healthy blush drained off Arinel's cheeks, leaving only snowy white. She gaped at the dead men and met eyes with the remaining guards, some with silent tears streaming down their cheeks.

"They're...are they...dead?"

Her voice was barely a whisper, but the head guard heard her nevertheless and nodded sympathetically.

Arinel stumbled back to the carriage stairs, sinking in horror, her eyes far away and unseeing. Meya rolled her eyes at the darkening sky.

Great. Now she was in shock. There was no rattling an answer out of her for a while. A while they did not have. Worse, she might choose to die out of guilt once she came to.

Out of sheer desperation and annoyance, Meya heaved a dramatic sigh and declared,

"Fine. I'll be Lady Arinel meself."

A solid silence undercut by the shrill song of early crickets followed, broken by cries of astonishment from the head guard and the old nurse,

"What?"

Meya spared them a glance, then returned to Arinel. The Lady remained wordless, but the prospect of Meya assuming her identity seemed to have knocked her back to reality. At her glare of incredulity, Meya shrugged,

"There's no need to worry. If we fail, I'll confess to me crimes. Your family's honor will be preserved. You can die rest assured." She added drily, then shrugged again, "Me dad's got six decent children back home. I'm sure he can spare one Greeneye."

Meya kept up her bravado, even as the bitter taste of her own words seeped onto her tongue. Arinel blinked as she digested it.

"And...what if you succeed?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Then I'll just go on being Lady Crosset. Ain't that the reward I deserve?" Meya braved another shrug, striving to look as insulting and aggravating as she dared. Arinel was too distracted to take offense—her eyes grew even wider.

"You'll marry Lord Coris in my place and be me for the rest of your life?"

Meya almost jolted. Chione's Ninnies! How could she have forgotten? The sole purpose of this ill-fated journey was for Arinel to get married! But she couldn't stop now—Arinel must believe she was going through with it.

"Of course." Meya tilted her head as if it was the most obvious thing in the three lands, "You chose to die, but your name's still useful. You threw away a name thousands would kill to have. I'd be the biggest fool to leave it here."

Arinel bit her lips, then rose to her feet, glaring at Meya with cold fury in her eyes. Meya couldn't resist a grin. Good. She was getting roiled up.

"I'd even say it's me right. After all, I came up with the plan, not you. Everyone alive here is alive thanks to yours truly, not you. I protected the people of Crosset, while you hid behind the corpses of your people. Dun't that make me worthier of being Lady Crosset than you?"

Anger disappeared from Arinel's eyes, replaced with something Meya hadn't expected—guilt and shame. Even as Meya called her bluff, she started to believe in it.

Meya did something she had never done before. She'd done something useful for others—and they appreciated it. For once in her life, she had succeeded—or at least, didn't fail that spectacularly.

"I spent me life fattening pigs for me family. Since they can't eat me, I have to make meself useful some other way. And I need your name for that."

Silence fell amidst a clash of ice blue against glowing acid green. Arinel surveyed Meya in thought for an excruciating moment, then her lips finally moved,

"Glowing green eyes. You're Meya Hild, aren't you?"

Meya blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question and Arinel's incredible calm. Frowning, she eked out a reluctant nod. Meya didn't like revealing her name to a fellow Crossetian for obvious reasons. Arinel unfurled a slight smile.

"My name is Arinel Crosset. You take it, and I take yours. Until the day you're worth more than a pig, and I'm worthy of carrying my name."

It was a moment before Meya registered all Arinel had said.

"What?" Meya croaked, eyes bulging. Arinel nodded,

"Seeing as you're so confident you can make more out of my name than myself, I'll let you borrow it. Keep it forever if you must. I hope you use it well."

"Lady!" The nurse cried, but Arinel was unwavering, her eyes never leaving Meya's.

"I have been humbled by shame, but I shall not let any insolent peasant girl insult me twice."

Arinel reached for her necklace and tugged, snapping the brittle chain. She tossed the silvery emerald-studded crest into Meya's hand. As Meya stared, mouth agape in disbelief, Arinel pulled off her jewelry one by one, depositing them in her overflowing hands.

All she'd meant to do was persuade Arinel to cooperate. Never in her wildest dreams did Meya expect Arinel to take her bluff word for word and throw away her name in favor of Meya's stupid, worthless (not to mention infamous) peasant girl's name.

Though it may have been for the Lady's safety, for the first time, Meya felt something akin to respect for the proud, noble Lady before her, but it was soon engulfed by fear for herself.

She was becoming a lady. And she was marrying a lord, not just as a mistress, but a fully-fledged, lawfully-wedded wife.

And, no matter the outcome of this heist, regardless of whether her life would end in less than a week or twenty years, she'd be spending a large part of it as Lady Arinel Crosset.