She's a fucking fox!

Chapter 3:

Guilford rolled his eyes from where he stood leaning on the door of his bedroom. Devon was still pacing in the hallway. Thankfully, Guilford didn't comment. When Devon finally figured pacing wasn't going to help, he stopped in front of Guilford who arched an eyebrow.

"I was called by the king" Devon finally said, sweat gleaming on his skin.

"Did you wet your pants?" Guilford ventured.

Devon gave him an annoyed look and began pacing again "I convinced him to postpone the festival"

Guilford frowned "Isn't that good?"

"He said all I have is a month to end this--" he waved his hand around in a clumsy manner, pointing at nothing in particular, or perhaps everything. "I have to fix it all before the festival"

Guilford rolled his eyes yet once again "He gave you one month Devon"

Devon glared at him "Also tons of threats"

Guilford sighed dramatically "Tell me what happened" Devon peeped into the room above (or below since he was taller) Guilford's shoulder. Guilford following his gaze cleared the doorway for him to enter.

Devon moved into his room and settled into the seat in the kitchen adjacent to Guilford's bedroom. His bedroom was clean beyond words. He had books all around his room, stacked cleanly in an order Devon couldn't recognize, his bed was made and unlike Devon's bedroom, not a single piece of clothing lay on the floor. The only thing visible in his room was his bed, his closet and a vase that sat atop his table.

It looked too tidy, Devon wondered if Guilford used the bedroom at all.

Sitting on the chair Devon recalled his meeting with the king.

It was early in the morning when Foyer came knocking at his door and told him that the king had ordered a meeting with him when Guilford was still asleep. Devon had turned to ask him some more questions but Foyer was already gone.

Devon took to clothing himself in his usual Red and white attire. His white trousers were slightly red with stains of blood which he'd tried to scrub but they never left. And his red coat-- well, Devon liked to wipe the blood on his sleeves.

Guilford would all way look desperate to grab his sleeves and have them washed. Devon huffed his annoyance as he walked out of his room with an apple in his hand which he chewed on his way.

What a decent morning it was, the streets were quiet and everyone was sleeping quite peacefully. But of course--Devon wouldn't sleep peacefully, the royals never wanted him to. Them and their far-fetched goals. As he took a bite of his apple as he wondered what had happened to the royals this time. It was always Foyer who was invited; he was the messenger of the one-eyed royals.

Devon took small and steady steps if only to prolong his journey to the court. He could already see the palace even before he walked into the capital. Devon stayed on the outskirts of Oakrien with Guilford residing in the same house as him. Their house was, to be honest, in an odd location. In front of Devon's house, the road was only enough for four people to walk, the rest of the cliff fell into a very steep valley.

There was no chance of surviving a jump from that cliff, even for an ace as powerful as Devon. Once a man had tried but when he jumped...Devon shuddered as he remembered the memory.

The only people seen on the streets were the neeners. He averted his attention to a shop on his right with pretty females entering inside and...painting? Well, that explained why the pavement was smeared in different colours. And even terrible drawings made by kids.

The royals can wait. He thought and walked into the gallery which he had earlier mistaken for a shop. There were so many pretty women, and even men who were doing their best to hide behind their canvases, and the kids. Devon tried not to laugh as he walked past some kids who were trying to draw.

Pity the owner of the gallery.

"Oof" Someone grunted as they slammed into his chest spilling a good amount of blue paint on his coat. Devon's groan subsided into his throat once he saw the owner of the voice.

He raised his eyebrows "What is a pretty lady like you doing in here?" He asked, smirking.

The neener just looked sheepishly at the paint smeared on his coat. Her green eyes rose to meet him. She was just as he remembered with her brown hair hanging loose on her sides and that terrible whip still wrapped around her waist.

He grimaced at the blood right above her belt. "It's not blood," She said, noticing his gaze. "It's paint" Devon shrugged nonchalantly wondering how many more people she'd told that. "What are you doing here?"

Devon grinned at her "I asked first"

She raised her eyebrows at him stubbornly. "I'm not telling you that until you prove your innocence"

He crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the table behind him "I'm not here to behead anyone if that's what you're asking, nor am I here to accuse anyone" He added at her pointed look. "I was just curious"

"Curiosity got the cat killed," She said with a quirk on her lips.

Devon snorts "In that case, I shall leave." He mocked a bow at her and began to leave "I have to meet with the royals anyway"

"Wait" Her voice boomed and he stopped. "Meet with the royals? Why?"

He turned to look at the curiosity openly displayed in her eyes. So much for her talk about the cat being killed. "I would like to point out dear neener, that I haven't met with the royals yet therefore the reason remains as much a mystery to me as it might be to you"

"Did you find the--" Devon gave her a warning look, daring her to complete the sentence.

"No" was all he said.

"Wait!" She shrieked. Devon rolled his eyes and turned back to her resuming his place next to the table. He was going to be fairly late for the meeting with the royals.

It took her a while before she spoke again. "Please don't tell anyone about this-this place. Not even your friends...please" Devon frowned. Her voice sounded panicked for some reason, that's when Devon noticed the fact that there were no aces, or how the gallery had quieted down when he had walked into it. And how everyone was trying not to meet his eye.

He also realized something else-- that it wasn't panic, it was caution. "What's going on here?" Devon said in a hard tone. "Tell me, Meilie, what's going on?"

"I don't trust you," She said, eyeing his ace's coat. Whatever they all were doing, they didn't want an ace knowing about it. And Meilie had made a mistake when she asked him to stay quiet.

Devon walked closer to her and spoke in a low voice "Let's trade secrets" he leaned closer to her. "I was once a neener, and no one knew it"

Meilie moved away from him, the movement too slight to be noticed by anyone else other than an ace. Devon smiled the smile that usually drove Guilford mad. "How do I know that you aren't lying?"

Devon shrugged "That information is too precious to be a lie." He looked at her thoughtfully "It could get me killed" she wouldn't tell anyone, would she? Devon hoped she wouldn't, although these days his faith in everyone was too thin.

It was Meilie's turn to move closer to him "But the information I have can get everyone in this room killed" Devon's lips quirked upward, he'd won yet once again. Meilie looked around herself and then said too slowly "All right, everyone here is part of a rebel."

Devon wanted to protest that it was barely any information but he knew that was all he would get. So he said, for once letting his guard down so she could see him. "I hope you succeed, Meilie, I really hope you do"

He made to move out of the shop but Meilie took hold of his hand "Wait," She tilted her head then, and looked at him as if he was some kind of a puzzle she was trying to solve. "You really are a..." She lowered her voice as if screaming a curse in front of the kids "neener?"

Devon grinned "I was Imprinted on my arm so no one even knew I was one"

"The priest who did your Turning would have known"

"Ah" Devon breathed "It's interesting, isn't it? How people can be controlled with a knife at their throat."

Meilie snorted "It's a sin to threaten a priest"

Devon shrugged "So they say" Then he gave her that impish smile that promised nothing but trouble "But I find it rather...funny"

The look she gave him was priceless "You're out of your freaking mind"

Devon snorted and walked straight to the royals from the gallery. Ignoring the morning rush that had finally come alive, ignoring the crying neeners or the beautiful women looking at him like they could devour him. All he could see were those people he'd found inside the gallery. They were all in danger, and those kids that he saw...they might not know how to draw but he remembered what they drew.

They were all drawing freedom.

~ ~

The king glowered at him. It made Devon's knees buckle but he stood straight thanks to his training for all those years. That day was different somehow, if only because the prince stood there too in the far corner of the room, as invisible as a man could be.

"You took your time coming here," The king said.

He tried not to swallow as he spoke "Did I miss something?"

The king frowned "If I call you into my courts, Spadille, you would come as soon as the word reaches you"

"Apologies, but I don't see how my late arrival has afflicted anyone" Dangerous ground. A voice inside his head screamed at him, but he wasn't ready to let the matter drop, so he stood his ground.

"This is your last warning, Spadille," the king warned him.

Aces do not bow, he recited to himself again and again.

Aces do not bow. Aces do not submit to weakness.

"It won't happen again," Devon said finally. The king's eyes raked him up and down, unimpressed and judgemental.

The prince moved an inch, the movement so invisible, no one even looked in his direction. Except for Devon. It was a silent order; to meet the prince afterwards. In the far corner, the general of the aces; Adger Aiken's look was priceless as he glowered at Devon for being late, upsetting the royals and holding up an argument.

"A messenger of ours has informed us" Lady black, or the queen started as her fingers tapped the armrest of the throne, her nails almost as long as talons--painted black. "That you, ace, have been having some trouble adjusting to our methods"

As Devon absorbed the words, he realized why people called her a black beauty. Devon saw that hunger, that predatory look she gave him as her lips painted in black stretched into a smile.

The prince in the corner of the room had stiffened, as if he too, realized what Devon was being accused of. Devon's gaze snapped to Foyer who had his head bowed deep and his tan skin turned very very pale. If anything, he looked like a lost child.

Clenching his jaw as hard as he could, he turned towards the one-eyed royals. He found himself unable to look them in the eyes as fear crawled down his spine but he showed none of it on his face.

"Is there anything you would like to explain on your behalf, dear ace" Lady black said, her unusually husky voice hissing like a snake. She might as well have slithered towards him had there not been an audience.

Devon did not swallow, could not swallow and admit weakness, so he stood there a while looking at the royals, searching for threats and waiting for the ice in his veins to cool down, for his throbbing heart to relax and his brain to start thinking straight once again.

There were three aces in the room, it wouldn't be easy to get around but Devon knew he could make it out. The royals could do nothing if he bolted except bark orders but...

Adger Aiken was among them, the best ace to ever walk upon this earth. He would not be an easy shot and yet...and yet Devon felt no fear of the killing blow he'd send Devon's way, and he knew it was reassurance enough for his tense body to relax again so he looked at the royals.

They seemed to be patiently waiting...or as patient as they could ever be. The king was still glowering at Devon and lady Black was licking her nails as if she could taste the blood of every man she had tortured over the years. It was a silent threat meant for Devon.

Fear crawled his spine once again, fear he thought he'd mastered so well but he looked the royals in the eye and said "The only thing I have left to say is that I have no intention of disrespecting you, your highness, but opening the gates might let the... killers in" He looked at everyone inside the throne room, at last, at the prince, subtly conveying a message to him "It might uncover our secret and cause the public to panic. If they panic then there would be more beasts to kill and the protection on the wards might fail us"

The royals considered that. The king of Oakrien rubbed on his stubble, while the queen looked at him with a bored expression. The king's brows narrowed slightly. After a few heartbeats of silence, he finally said "One month. One month is all I give you before we open the gates to all outsiders and traders. We need to handle certain matters, Spadille, and we don't want anyone coming in our way."

Although he concealed it well, Devon's insides were shaking at the not-so-subtle threat. "I will need some aid if I am to do all this in one month"

The king recklessly waved his hand "General Aiken will provide you with all the aid you need but I need all the matters handled Spadille," he pinned Devon with a look that usually meant he was nothing in comparison to the king and that it would be very easy indeed to kill devon.

Devon tried not to drown himself with the threat as he placed a hand on his heart and with a little bowing of his chin he turned around to move out of the room. No one stopped him and before leaving, he dared one last time to take a look at Adger Aiken's face which was white with fury.

It was confirmation enough that he had to get out of the room before he was molested by a very very pissed-off general. Which was not a pretty sight to behold.

Two blocks away from the castle, a hand clamped on his shoulder. Everyone on the street had stopped what they were doing and looked behind him at the person who now restricted him from going any further. It was enough to tell Devon who lurked behind him.

The prince didn't so much as wave at the prying crowd before he pulled Devon into their townhouse where they often got drunk when they were just youths. Now they sold it to a barkeeper who indeed turned it into that.

Nobody even looked up from their spot when they walked into that bar. It was a busy place, one of the busiest he'd ever seen. Not even the markets were this occupied. "What is all this about?" Devon questioned as the prince led him up the stairs.

"You," he said, ensuring there was enough oblivion in Devon so he had the upper hand "And me...kind of"

"You're an ass," Devon said. Some of the bartenders stilled at Devon's informality as they both walked up the flight of stairs.

The prince laughed "Nothing I'm not aware of"

"Come on, Keith," He said, his foul mood getting the best of him. "I don't have time to waste, I have somewhere else to be"

Keith stopped walking and stared at him "Somewhere else to be? Where else?" Devon realized his words were not wisely chosen "With the rebels?"

"Is that what this is about?" Devon crossed his hands over his bare torso.

Keith just looked at him with his expressionless eyes and his jet black hair falling on his eyes "You might as well have announced you're part of the rebels with the smeared paint on your jacket, Devon, there is no walking away now."

Devon frowned "What do you mean?"

The prince lowered his voice "The blue paint on your jacket is the exact colour used to subtly indicate to others that you are part of a rebel"

It took a while for the words to sink in. And a while longer to realize that the neener wasn't as stupid as he'd thought she was. She was quite cunning. And that he was the fly in her web.

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