Liar

“I killed her.”

“What?” The brunette’s head snapped up and he stared at his friend in horror. “Don’t joke like that, Rye. It’s not funny.” 

“I’m not joking,” they said, making the other freeze again. “I killed her, Mike.”

“No,” Mike muttered, standing up and abandoning the dozens of potions he had been organizing. “No, no, no, no, no. You can’t be serious. You can’t have killed her. You’re not that stupid.”

“Guess I’m pretty stupid then,” Rye said, falling back onto a pile of grain filled sacks. “Cuz I killed her.”

“What were you thinking?!” Mike yelled, whipping around to stare at the other brunette. “You’ve jeopardized us both! They’ll have our wanted posters covering every corner of the continent by tomorrow evening!”

“What’s the big deal?” Rye asked, blowing a strand of curly brown hair out of their face. “No one will know it was me. I made sure not to leave any traces behind.”

“YOU KILLED THE HEAD COUNCIL’S DAUGHTER!” the teen shrieked. “Why would you even do that, Rye? Are you insane?!”

The other teen shrugged, digging an apple out of a nearby bag. “She was getting on my nerves.”

“That doesn’t mean you kill her!” Mike snapped. The boy groaned and rubbed his temples, contemplating what their next move should be. “Are you sure you didn’t leave any evidence behind?”

Rye nodded, taking a bite out of the apple. “I’m sure. This isn’t my first assassination.”

Mike sighed and sat back down by his potions. “Okay. We’ll just go on as if nothing happened. As long as no one finds out we had any relation to the girl, we should be fine.”

“Why does it matter whether we get caught or not?” Rye asked nonchalantly. They scrunched up their face as a worm peeked out of a little hole in their fruit. “If we get caught, we can just kill the whole family and escape.”

Carefully, the brunette picked up their dagger and drugged it along the apple’s skin, watching the red layer slowly peel away to light tan. They slowly let the blade sink into the apple’s flesh, watching juices trace down the side and onto their hand. Rye meticulously carved around the whole and made a nearly perfect circle in the flesh. The worm had long since fled into the core, but that only made the chase all the more fun. In one swift motion, they yanked out the circle they had carved into the apple, revealing a tiny green worm trying to eat its way to freedom. Smiling, Rye plucked the worm away from the fruit, pinching it gently between their index finger and thumb and watching it squirm in fright.

“Unlike you,” Mike finally said, eyes fixed on the teen and the worm, “I don’t like killing anyone who crosses my path.”

Squish.

Rye stared at their now slimy fingers, as if they were bored now that they had crushed their victim. Suddenly, they cast a glare Satan himself would cower in towards Mike, eliciting a slight yelp of fear.

“Don’t make me out to be a senseless murderer,” Rye muttered, gaze darkening. “I do not kill without reason.”

“Someone annoying you isn’t reason to kill them!” Mike snapped, voice trembling a bit. 

“And who said you get to decide that?”

In a split second, Rye had their knife pressed to the other’s throat, face much too close and much to calm for comfort. Mike didn’t say a word, afraid that if he even breathed, the blade would sink right past his skin and dig through his airway.

“I keep you alive for one reason,” Rye said quietly. “You know how to read those damn maps, the ones only you Tieratans can read. I can find another map reader any time I want. So give me a reason why I shouldn’t do that right now.”

Mike felt his heart beat speed up till he felt like it would pound right out of his chest. He frantically searched for an answer, a good enough reason not to kill him.

“I know potions,” the teen blurted, terrified that speaking would force the dagger into his neck. “There aren’t many mages left. You wouldn’t have accomplished half your feats had it not been for my magic.”

Tears began to well up in the boy’s eyes as the knife pressed just a little harder against his skin, a small line of blood beginning to well up. The two stayed like that for a moment, the world silent except for the steady sound of horse hooves and wagons riding across the cobblestone street above them.

Suddenly, Rye pulled away, letting Mike drop to the ground in relief. The teen gasped for air, tears streaming down his face as his hand was stained with his blood. The cut wasn’t deep enough to kill him, but it was deep enough to hurt.

“I’ll be back later tonight,” Rye said, pulling a cloak over their mess of curls. Without another word, they opened the door to the basement and left Mike alone in the ever darkening cellar of the warehouse.

Pain flashed through Mike’s side as a boot struck him in the ribs. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see a pissed off Rye that just needed a punching bag for a bit.

Soldiers.

The teen tried to scramble away before a calloused hand latched onto his shaggy brown hair.

“Don’t try anything, runt,” the soldier snapped at him, pulling him up to his feet. Before the teen could do much more, his hands were tied behind his back, rough rope digging into his skin.

“What are you doing?” the teen cried, struggling against the bonds. “Why am I being arrested?”

The soldiers didn’t tell the boy, just dragged him out of the room, up the stairs, and out the door to the cobblestone street. His eyes widened as they landed on a tall figure, body shrouded by a dark cloak. The only clue as to who they were was their dark brown curls lit gold by the dim street lamps.

The teen’s blood ran cold as he saw that familiar hand move from under the dark fabric and point to him, an unwavering voice sounding through the cool night air.

“That’s him,” Rye said, face obscured by shadows. “He killed the Head Council’s daughter.”

Body trembling, blood rushing, and face paling, the teen shook his head. “No,” Mike breathed, the soldiers beginning to drag him to the prison. “No. No, I didn’t kill her! It wasn’t me!” The teen struggled against their grip like an animal in a trap, swearing at the top of his lungs that he didn’t do it, that he was innocent.

Tears of terror streamed down the boy’s face as he looked back to see Rye, sly smile strung across their lips, standing in the dim light of the street lamps before disappearing into the shadows one last time.