Questionable Companionship

I am standing on the balcony outside of the bedroom, picking the door's lock with a bobby pin.

“C'mon,” I impatiently mutter under my breath, my movements becoming more frantic by the second.

Just when I’m about to give up, the lock clicks and unlocks. I let out a sigh of relief and quietly push the glass doors open.

I step into the room and glance around, taking in the luxury and obvious wealth. Then the thing I'm here for finally catches my eye.

Well, maybe ‘person’ would be a better word than ‘thing’.

I slowly approach him and look down on his peaceful, resting face.

Too bad I'll have to ruin that peace.

I need money. I’m starving and thirsty. There’s no way I’d make it another week. So I turned to my only option. Thievery. And tonight, I plan on hitting the jackpot.

I walk to the door and lock it, along with the balcony door. I close the blinds and then make my way back towards him.

My hand rests on the knife in my pocket, the cold blade sending shivers down my spine. My finger accidentally brushes the tip of the blade and I bite my lip to hold back a gasp. That makes me realize…this is my last chance to back out.

I take a deep breath and place a hand on his shoulder, my touch feather-light. I gently shake him.

I watch as his eyes flutter open. He shifts slightly, but I keep my grip on his shoulder so he can't move away.

I listen and watch as he notices me and his breath hitches.

He immediately tries to get up, but I push him back down, my face serious. I feel kind of guilty when I see the fear flash through his eyes.

He opens his mouth to yell.

I step back and whip out the knife, keeping it at a useful, yet safe, distance from him. I don’t want to use it unless I have to. “Don't make a sound,” I warn quietly, but also firmly.

He looks at me but doesn’t make another sound, knowing that I would not hesitate to make a move. I’m sure he can see the desperation in my eyes.

After a moment of silence, he speaks cautiously, his voice softer than I had expected for this situation. “May I get up?”

I raise an eyebrow before giving a small nod. Why is that his main question? Perhaps he knows how dangerous this situation is.

He slowly sits up and stands, keeping his hands in a visible position. He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again. This time, they contain not only fear, but also hints of concern and confusion. “Who are you?” he asks quietly.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” I reply, trying to keep my voice calm despite my own fear.

If I get caught, I’m doomed. My whole life is screwed. But I’m willing to take that risk. Anything is better than starving on the streets.

I take a step closer to him and, though he does flinch, he doesn’t move away. “You’re going to do exactly what I say, got it?”

He gives a small nod, his eyes glancing back and forth between my face and the knife.

“Keep your hands by your sides, okay? I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to,” I state, my voice a bit softer, my hand on the knife trembling slightly.

I really don't want to do this. Honestly, I'm terrified. One voice in my head is arguing with another.

One is telling me to stop, lower the knife, and either run or turn myself in.

The other is telling me that I need money or I’ll starve and that I can’t let myself rot behind bars.

I take a slow step closer, trying to be careful. I gently grab his arm and spin him around so his back is to me.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. I can feel him shaking a little.

I hesitate a moment, debating whether or not to share my personal thoughts.

“I need money. I have no food, no one to take care of me. I don't want to do this but I have to. That's why I'm sorry,” I say quietly, my eyes darting to the closed door and then to the window.

He's silent for a moment. He closes his eyes. “I can help you,” he whispers.

My eyes widen for a moment before I tilt my head. “You expect me to believe that?”

He ignores my suspicious tone and continues. “I have money. I have food. I can give you some. Just please, don't do anything you'll regret.”

“But…how can I trust you? What if you turn me in?” I don't know if I believe him. Not everyone can be trusted, especially when they're on the receiving side of this.

“I swear to you. You have my word,” he promises, his voice a bit stronger than it was a minute ago.

I close my eyes. The voices are fighting again.

Take his offer and don't become a criminal.

Don't trust him. He'll turn me in. I need to do this.

Opening my eyes, I sigh and let go of him, unable to go through with it.

He lets out a breath of relief and turns to face me again.

“Can you put the knife down?” he asks softly.

I drop the knife, my gaze down. “I'm sorry, Your Highness,” I whisper.

He smiles slightly. “It's okay. I understand desperation.” His voice is so warm and comforting that I start to relax, the tension gradually descending. “But you realize I have to tell my father, right?”

My heart sinks at that and I give a small nod.

Stupid me. I knew this would happen. I should've followed the other voice.

“But I'll make sure that he's fair. And then…maybe I can get you a job here. So you don't have to steal,” he says thoughtfully, to himself as much as to me.

“Here?” I ask, tilting my head to look at him.

“Yes. I'll make sure you're safe.” He smiles again and holds out a hand, stopping just short of me.

I look at him, my resolve crumbling quicker than before. I have no choice but to take this chance.

I slowly reach out and take his hand, which he grips tightly yet firmly.

He gives a nod, steps to the door to unlock it, and then holds it open for me to pass through, all while not letting go, his actions speaking louder than his words.

A silent offer of support despite the circumstance.

Strangely, I trust him.

Outside, a few of the guards are alerted and quickly step closer to intercept the prince and I, but he quickly waves them all away but one.

That one steps closer and they talk in hushed tones for a moment.

“He's going to tell my father. I made it clear that you are not to be punished,” he explains to me as the guard walks down the hall.

“Thank you,” I say, my words coming out in a small, surprised breath.

“Of course,” he replies, taking my hand again and leading me down the hall opposite from the way the guard went.

His mercy surprises me. Though its shockingly sweet. Most royals that I have heard of wouldn't tolerate anything close to what I've done.

“You can stay in our little guest room tonight. We will discuss this all tomorrow.” He opens a door and pull me inside the room.

The room is gorgeously, luxurious. The bed is a magnificent red, the desk a beautiful mahogany, and the walls an interesting dark grey.

As he settles down on the bed, he gestures for me to sit beside him, which I do.

A moment of comfortable silence passes as we both study each other.

“I have a feeling this is going to be a friendship unlike any other,” he says admittedly, his eyes soft as he gently brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

I tense slightly at the touch and take a deep breath, my instincts taking over.

He notices but doesn't move away. He just smiles and I finally know that I want to stay here.

With him.

This is the kindest anyone has ever been to me. I won't let it go to waste.

“I best leave you to get some sleep, eh?” He carefully pushes me back to lay down, being careful as he sees how thin I am. “We'll get you a proper meal in the morning,” he promises, pulling the blanket over me.

“I'd like that,” I say quietly, finally speaking for the first time since we entered the room.

He nods and turns to leave but pauses at the door. “I never got your name,” he mentions.

“Anica,” I answer, my voice stronger than it was a moment ago.

His smile widens at the name. “Well, Anica. It was surprisingly nice to meet you. Despite the…circumstance.”

“You too…Your Highness. Thank you for your mercy,” I reply, attempting a weak smile back.

“...call me James.” And with that, he turns and shuts the door behind him, leaving me in a tense mix of anticipation and fear for what's to come.

For the first time in months since my parents died, I sleep peacefully, my dreams spreading some light to the situation rather than making it worse