- K A L I - A L I -

     The hinges squeal lightly as I step through an old metal gate. The sun barely sits atop the mountains, causing every building in the city to cast a long shadow. It also creates blind spots here at the palace walls, allowing me to make my way out to the roads below. Oblivious guards stand at the ready, trying desperately to prevent another attack.

     I should be furious that they aren't seeing me do this, as after all, they could've stopped the explosion before it occurred. Tonight, though, their incompetence is to my benefit. I need to find Alar; answers are hard to come by when I'm trapped behind the fragile walls of the palace.

     The cold evening wind brushes against my neck as I step out from behind a bush and onto the sidewalk. It surprises me; normally, my long and regal hair mostly blocks the wind; now, the air whips past unimpeded. My normal formal wear has been replaced with a blank, dark blue hoodie and a pair of jeans. I pull the hoodie upwards, sheltering the jagged ends of my shear job.

     Thankfully, neither of my parents had seen me since I made use of my scissors. It'll be tough to explain when they see me next, but at this point, all of us have bigger problems to deal with. The good news is, hopefully, I'll be more inconspicuous in the bustling dusk streets of Al Kamara.

     "Maybe if you had been stronger, things wouldn't be falling apart!" rings through my head, causing me to huff as I walk past a slower group on the sidewalk. I don't know what hurt more: the statement or how fast she realized she tried to take it back. It's like my mother is trying to pin something on me I know nothing about. The confusion etches itself on my face as I continue walking.

     My head turns slightly, and I look at the palace from the outside. Something strikes me as I stand on the sidewalk. The warm lights from the windows and balconies highlight the intricate architecture of the structure, which sits atop a small hill towards the mountain foothills. I'd snuck out plenty of times before using this same route, but something feels different this time. It's like I'm, even briefly, separated from the mounting crisis. On these streets, I'm not a failed princess; I'm an ordinary woman.

     Is this what Suri felt like? I ponder the thought as I continue walking to avoid suspicion. Did he ever feel freedom when he was exiled? I find myself wishing he were here to give me pointers - to tell me how to deal with the weight of the world's disapproval sitting squarely on my shoulders. I'd always been told he was a kidnapper, that he aimed to use me as a ransom, but a small part of me doubts it to this day. I knew my brother... that's not who he is, right?

     Right?

     He's probably dead, I think to myself as my tennis shoes patter down the bustling street. It's been nine years since I've seen him. At first, I really struggled with his absence. My parents, though, always made sure to remind me of the reasons, and I found comfort in them over the years. Hopefully, if he is alive, he's changed.

     My inner monologue is snapped by cheers emanating from a few blocks to the east. The Al Kamara National Stadium, set on the waterfront of the Caspian, is hosting a major football match tonight with Qatar. What would normally have been all the nation was talking about had been drowned out by the political crisis currently unfolding at my wrist. I slink past a group of people on the sidewalk as I follow my phone's GPS. Alar hadn't been difficult to track down - Klen, in his final moment, gave me a key to a storage unit. What the man is hiding inside is a mystery to me, but one I intend to solve tonight.

     Keeping my head down, I cross a street with a crowd as I hear more chants to my right. I glance that way, and the sight sends chills down my spine. I see my own face on a poster, held up by a massive group of protestors walking down the street. I freeze momentarily, unsure of what to do. My legs continue moving, as if on autopilot, to keep me from becoming suspicious.

     I pull my phone up, seeing my path intersects with theirs directly. It can never be easy, huh? I feel a bead of sweat drip from my forehead as I adjust my hoodie, walking towards the crowd. The marching of the crowd syncs with my loud heartbeat as my feet trudge on the pavement.

     "What do we want?" I hear from the megaphone, the alley-like street filled to the brim as the others shout "ANSWERS!" I feel my face tighten as I look towards the crowd. On the other side of the street, I notice a waiter for a restaurant looking right at me as he cleans off a patio table. His eyes lock with mine for a millisecond as my heart pangs through my body. I see confusion flash across his face, mixing with realization as I quickly turn away.

     The chants drown my thoughts as I panic internally. He can't notice me - I'm a fish in the shark tank. I hear him try to say something as I disappear into the protest crowd. Squeezing between bodies, I stick to the outskirts, emerging into a roundabout and making a left turn. I barely hear the chants over my anxiety and dread as I round the corner, slinking into a nearby alleyway and leaning against the wall.

     A massive exhale comes from me as I bleed some of the tension from my body. You can never be too careful, I guess. Maybe I should thank the protestors; their antics may have just saved me from being discovered. I nervously chuckle at the irony of it, keeping my feet moving so the waiter can't confirm his suspicions.

     I pull out my phone once again, viewing the map. My feet stop dead in their tracks as I look up, seeing a multi-story storage unit in front of me. One old sign sits above the entrance, spelling out the place I'm searching for. Why is this so important, Klen? This is a random business in the middle of the city... what can you possibly have in here to give me the key for on death's door?

     I flush the thoughts away as I scope out the building. One attendant stands at the counter, typing away on a computer as I lean against a wall across the street. The wind whips through the alley as I ponder my plan. I realize I haven't quite planned this far ahead yet... maybe I've been running on curiosity and fury only.

     Then, I watch as a man enters, walking straight through the lobby without so much as a hello. Well, fuck it. I quickly stride across the street, before stepping onto the curb and into the building. My body tenses as I walk right by the attendant, seemingly too invested in his computer to care-

     "Welcome, Miss," I hear from him as I walk by. I feel my shoulders tense as I continue walking, frozen from the waist up. I raise my hand to wave, continuing to walk down the hall and to the storage units. Sometimes, I wish I were never a Princess; normal lives are nearly impossible.

     Modern mixes of sandstone and stucco collide with bricks around the edges of the units. I raise the key to my eyes, noticing my hand shaking from the trip. "209," I mutter to myself, finding the stairs and ascending slowly. My entire body shakes as my feet plant on the stairs. The windows show the last bit of light creeping in, with nighttime fast approaching for the city.

     Given the event last night, I'd rather not be out too late.

     My eyes scan the storage units on the second floor, darting from number to number before landing on '209.' I take a deep breath, realizing my nervousness isn't just from my adventure. I have genuinely no clue what is behind this rather large door. Klen was quite a private man... what could he be hiding here?

     The key finds the door's lock as I feebly attempt to steady myself. One heavy breath later, and the key turns to unlock the room. I hear the lock unclasp, noticing the lack of dust - or any signs of abandonment, for that matter. Maybe he uses this frequently? My hand then finds the door handle, wrapping around it like my life depends on it. After a final exhale, I pull the door open.

     The faint light allows me to find a light switch as I look inside. Some old furniture sits stashed in odd locations, with various chairs and desks arranged like a jumbled puzzle. My eyes shift to a side desk, however, which holds a pretty unmistakable lockbox sitting on top. The edges of the wooden box are accented with some sort of metal, with some script on the sides.

     "Dutch East India Company," I mutter aloud, walking towards it with furrowed brows. Funny enough, the lockbox isn't actually locked, as my hands quickly confirm. I quietly hinge the top open, worried that someone will walk in behind me and recognize me. Pushing the thought away, I examine the inside of the box.

     My curiosity piques as I pick up the only item inside - a slightly worn piece of paper, wrapped in a roll with a generic rubber band. The contents here seem to be slightly older, like this box had been here for much longer than some of the room's more typical contents. My mind races as I look at the paper, squinting. Despite not even opening it, I can tell this is important - somehow.

     What are you hiding, Klen?