Where is Jasper with a healing spell when you need him? Samsadur scowled as he walked down the hall, nursing the hangover of all hangovers. I didn't even drink that much, he grumbled, but he knew that wasn't quite true.

He'd been far too worked up after his interrogation by the bloody Djinn to fall asleep, and had slipped back into the tavern, downing drinks until sleep finally claimed him at the bar. He'd awoken with the edge of the bar firmly imprinted on his forehead and a headache so crushing that he was minutes away from giving in and drinking a healing potion, price be damned.

He staggered past his own room and continued down the hall, searching until he found the door he was looking for. Pausing at the threshold, he cocked his ear to see if anyone was inside. In truth, Samsadur was almost hoping there wouldn't be; despite traveling with him for a few months now, he'd barely gotten to know the scout, and what he did know of him had been unimpressive.

Theoretically, the scout had a lot in common with Jasper: they were both Djinn, both stolen from the same home world, and both mages with a considerable amount of talent. But that was where the similarities ended.

Unlike Jasper, Erin seemed constantly uncomfortable in their world, as if he was holding everything - and everyone - at arm's length. He barely interacted with anyone in the party except for Jasper and Tsia, whom he had a poorly concealed crush on. And it was obvious to everyone that he hated the fighting and danger they routinely found themselves in.

Oh, he'd made progress - at least he was no longer forced to listen to the lad cry himself to sleep over killing the Stryn warriors in the battle for Birnah - but that sorrow had been replaced by a certain emptiness. The scout just wasn't made for this. He'd probably have been happier being a baker or a barkeep or some equally soul-crushing job, but with the magic he possessed, such mundane jobs weren't an option. At least not as long as he was still in Corsythia.

But despite his hopes for silence, S̆ams̆ādur was greeted by the steady staccato of snoring beyond the door. The scout was here. With a sigh, he steadied himself against the wall and knocked on the door, wincing as the beats sent stabs of pain through his temple. The snoring continued undisturbed, and he tried again, pounding the door with his fist loud enough to draw a curious head from the room next door.

"Sorry," S̆ams̆ādur waved them off. "Just need to talk to my 'friend.'"

The snoring stopped, but the door didn't open, and the durgu raised his fist again. "I know you're in there, Erin. Open up!"

After another moment of silence, footsteps approached the door. Its hinges squealed as it opened just wide enough for the scout to pop his face through. His face was paler than usual, with dark rings beneath his eyes and hair matted against his forehead with sweat. "What do you want?" he hissed.

"Need to talk. Got a job offer."

"Not interested." The scout moved to close the door, but S̆ams̆ādur intercepted it with a meaty hand. "Hold up, you haven't heard my offer. Let me in." He strained against the door as the scout put up an impressive resistance trying to keep him out, but the prince was stronger. With a shuddering creak, the door swung open and the prince caught sight of the scout's bed.

The old grey blanket stretched over the inn's itchy straw pallets covered a noticeably human-shaped lump.

"Oh," S̆ams̆ādur chuckled. "Had a little fun last night?"

"None of your business," Erin snapped, though his cheeks turned red as a tomato. "Now get it out."

"Nope, this is too important." S̆ams̆ādur pushed his way inside, though he paused as he realized the lump on the bed wasn't moving. Is she… His eyes swiveled to the scout's sweaty brow and pale skin, and a horrible thought occurred to him. "She is…alive, right?"

"What?!" Erin sputtered. "Of course? Do you think I'm some sort of monster?"

"Just asking," he grunted. "In my experience, whores don't stick around after you paid for them. Just how much did she take you for?" he raised a quizzical brow.

"She's not a whore." The scout's blush grew deeper. "She's one of the tavern's waitresses."

Waitress? S̆ams̆ādur dismissed the unfamiliar word with a snort. "You better hope she's a whore, lad. Unless you've got a plan to appease a bunch of pissed off peasants."

"I…uh." Horror dawned in Erin's eyes, and he cast a hasty glance at the still sleeping girl. "Um," he continued eloquently.

"Now that you have a fiancée," S̆ams̆ādur continued, barely containing his laughter, "you'll need to make more money. Fortunately, I already have a lead on that. Grab your clothes and meet me outside. We can discuss it on the way."

"I…I don't have a fiancée," Erin finally managed to complete a full sentence. "And I already told you I don't want to do a job. I stayed behind to enjoy myself - not to get mixed up in another damn fight."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The prince shrugged. "Looks to me like you have two options. You can join me and make some money. Maybe we'll get into a fight and maybe we won't. Or you can stick around and wait for her to wake up. Dowry discussions never turn into a fight," he added sarcastically.

With another frantic look at the bed, the scout's shoulders crumpled. "Damn you. Fine. I'll meet you in a few minutes."

S̆ams̆ādur groaned as he stepped outside of the tavern. For five days - five bloody days in a row - it had rained nearly non-stop. Even in the rare moments that the rain had temporarily ceased, the sun had been hidden behind such a thick layer of clouds that even broad daylight felt almost like night.

But not today. He suffered the sun's unrelenting torment for only a few seconds before he fished a potion out of his bag and took a few sips. Almost immediately, the throbbing pain in his head was silenced and he had started to twist the cap back on when the tavern's door slammed behind him.

"What do you want?" Erin snapped irritably, though he was unhelp to keep the edge of anxiety out of his voice.

S̆ams̆ādur took pity on him, tossing the healing potion at him. "Take a sip - you'll feel better."

Erin frowned as he looked at the seal. "It's open."

"Yeah, I drank a little just a moment ago. Potion's still good."

The durgu watched in amusement as the scout unscrewed the cap and leaned his head back, holding the bottle while clear of his lips as the sickly sweet liquid dripped down. "What? Are you afraid to share a drink with me?"

"I'm not afraid. I'd just rather not swap germs," the scout said, though his pallor improved rapidly.

"Didn't stop you from swapping spit last night. Or maybe something a little more?" S̆ams̆ādur waggled his brow exaggeratedly, choking back his laughter as the scout blushed.

"I…she isn't actually expecting me to marry her, is she?" The words come out in a rush. "It was just a one-night stand, not a marriage proposal. I…"

"Hey," S̆ams̆ādur placed a hand on Erin's shoulder. "I was just pulling your leg, lad. Your's likely isn't the first bed she's tumbled into."

"You think?" Relief washed across the scout's face.

"You better hope so," the prince laughed. "Or you really might find yourself married off."

Erin scowled, but changed the subject. "So what was so important that you had to drag me out of bed?"

S̆ams̆ādur's mirth faded away. "I've been offered a job by the Djinn commander."

"Offered or 'offered'?" the scout asked.

"Eh." He wiggled his hand. "I don't think Lord Ardûl will outright force me to do it - I may be exiled but I am still a prince and that carries a certain amount of weight - but he's not above applying pressure."

"You're not under his command."

"No, but you are," he replied. "And Lord Ardûl made it very clear that he was disappointed by our decision to stay in the city instead of helping Jasper with his quest."

"So what?" Erin shrugged. "Jasper agreed to let us stay, he's my commanding officer. Who cares what Ardûl thinks?"

"But Ardûl is his commanding officer," S̆ams̆ā̱dur pointed out. "He can countermand Jasper's orders any time he wants to."

"So that's it," the scout scowled. "I either agree to help or I'll be ordered to? What even is the job anyway?"

"Can't answer the first question - you'd ask to have Ardûl that - but for the second…" He paused, searching for the right words. "I'm sure you're familiar with my situation? With my father?" he added.

"Eh…sort of? I know your father's an enemy of the empire and you got exiled for…actually I'm not sure why you were exiled," he admitted, "but I know he sent a bunch of assassins after you."

"So you've got the gist," S̆ams̆ādur continued. "If I'm honest with myself, I no longer know how I feel about my father. He's tried to kill me three times - I should hate him - and yet," he shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. "All those other memories don't just go away. I'm not sure I care whether the Empire wins or loses," he admitted quietly. "But there's a part of me that wants to stop him, just to stick it to him."

"Lord Ardul suspects that my father has sent messengers to treat with the Zalancthians. He sent Jasper to deal with the most immediate threat, the force threatening to take over Dur-Suqerbettu, but Ardul fears that that is just a part of a grander plan." He pulled out a letter and handed it to Erin. "This message was intercepted a few days ago and appears to include a plan for a meeting next week. Ardul wants us to find the durgu messengers and stop them - or better yet, infiltrate the meeting."

"And why does he need us for that? Shouldn't it be pretty easy to find them? I mean, no offense, but you guys stick out like a sore thumb."

"The only durgū in the city are mine - I'd stake my life on it," S̆ams̆ādur replied. "My father will have sent someone else. Maybe satrys - they're still pretty common as traders in the empire, despite living with the durgū; maybe traitors - Selene knows he has enough money to bribe a saint. But he won't have been stupid enough to send a durgu."

"So he wants to use your mind magic," the scout realized.

"Pretty much. I'm not keen on it," S̆ams̆ādur admitted, "but at the same time…" He shrugged. "My old man tried to kill me thrice. I wouldn't mind the chance to screw him over."

"Now that is a motivation I can understand," Erin grinned. "Let's say I'm willing to help. You said this was a job, so we get paid right?"

"Lord Ardûl agreed to pay us a bounty of 1000 gold for the job, 2000 if we manage to finagle a meeting with the Zalancthians and learn more about their motives."

"A thousand each, or split between us?"

"Planning for that dowry?" S̆ams̆ādur grinned.

"Enough," Erin rolled his eyes. "It's not funny any longer. Is that a 1000 for each of us or not?"

"It's split, but you can have my portion if you agree to help," he offered.

"You don't need the money?"

"I've spent more in a single day," Samsadur laughed. "But for you, it's good money. You may not need a dowry now, but you won't be with the scouts forever. A thousand gold might not be enough to buy a farm, but it's a sizable down payment."

"Yeah, I don't think 'farm livin' is the life for me, but I get your point," Erin replied dryly. "I'm sure I'm gonna end up regretting this but, fine, I'll help with your damned quest."

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