"What are you doing here?" I asked, after he was tied up next to me.
"I was looking for you," he said. "You never showed up at Raven's Crest, so I snuck out with one of my father's scouting parties."
"Your father is looking for me?" My hopes rose.
"No," he said, sheepishly, "he's looking for Hagrim."
"Well if you're here, where's the rest of the scouting party?"
"They went back to alert the guard. I stayed to see if I could track you, and I thought I had your trail but these men caught me near the Lairn. But it’s okay. My father’s men will start their search there. They’ll find us eventually."
And my hopes fell. The men of Raven's Crest knew where Hagrim's camp was located – apparently somewhere near the Lairn river – and they'd be readying a force to attack him soon. But it would take most of the day to get that information back to the city, and most of the night and morning to round up enough men. It would be tomorrow night before we'd be saved, at the earliest. But I had a feeling we'd either be dead or gone by the time they arrived.
"Hagrim has bounty hunters coming in today to bid on me. My guess is I'll be sold off by tonight and Hagrim will be moving out by morning. When your father and his men arrive, they'll find an empty camp."
Saras' shoulders slumped. "So we're on our own? As usual?" I didn’t answer. I just gave him a look that told him how desperate our situation had become.
"You're the prince, right?" Riose asked. "Saras?"
"My name is Saras, yes,” Saras said, his eyes narrowing at Riose. “Who are you?"
"Don't talk to him," I said. "He's the reason I'm here."
Riose rolled his eyes. "You're here because you don't know how to be quiet."
"No, I'm here because you got lucky, remember? It happened right after you were duped by your employer into chasing after me without even knowing why."
Saras looked back and forth at the two of us in confusion. "Sounds like you two have been here for a while."
Riose ignored the comment. "One day, you’ll learn to stop blaming others for your own mistakes, if you survive this mess, that is. In fact, let’s make a compromise. I’ll stop treating everything as either black or white, and you can start letting things go. How about that?"
I thought about his compromise, recognized the irony in my answer, and proceeded to give it anyway. "No."