A Royal's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 36 - "You scumming wench!"

Alwyn

The coolness of the forest was burned away the moment Alwyn, Sparrow, and Simon stepped out from its protection and into the sun's rays. The glare of the sun felt like a warning as they crossed over into the city's outer reaches. None of them spoke as they passed lavish estates which grew smaller as they went on.

When they hit a bustling street, they stopped and looked at each other. Sparrow gave a single nod which was returned in kind. There was nothing else to add, they understood the importance of their tasks. As Simon broke off, Alwyn started to head away, but Sparrow stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

Alwyn could feel his sternness in his hold, silently reminding her what was at stake and to keep a clear head. Alwyn couldn't argue. The last time they both had been in this city her actions had been... She didn't want to think about how she'd been. Looking back, it felt humiliating to think about it.

"I know," she said, even though Sparrow hadn't spoken aloud.

"Good."

With that, he squeezed her shoulder once and took off towards the docks, to be ready when Isla arrived as well as Raif. Alwyn cut down the sidewalk, moving deeper into the city. As she went, she couldn't help but compare this journey with the one she took with Wilder.

They'd slipped in and out of alleyways, concealed themselves in shadows. It had been easy to follow him, he moved with ease and confidence. Alwyn could see the path to the bell tower as if Wilder were still with her. From their perch in the tower, they'd been able to see everything, from the sea, the port, the streets, to the palace.

What they hadn't been able to see was the individual people below. Now as Alwyn wove her way through the throngs, she saw what they'd missed: guarded eyes, lowered heads, shuffling feet, murmured conversations. The city in which Alwyn had first entered before the Welcome ball had felt oppressive to her with all the smiles, boisterous voices, and bright laughter. But that liveliness had been snuffed out.

How strange that though she hated it at the time, she was the one working to bring it back.

Alwyn quickened her pace, even as she kept her head ducked. She didn't wear her sword and the emptiness at her hip niggled at her as she passed a pair of stationary soldiers. Hard-faced soldiers who made citizens quell and scurry.

Alwyn glanced back at the pair as she darted across the road. Up ahead, a boarding house door opened, and out stumbled a trio of men. When they righted themselves, the leader shouted at the landlord, swearing at him. Alwyn jerked to a halt. This had to be some twisted fateful joke.

Tor raised his fist but the landlord slammed the door in his face. Alwyn's former crew members all grumbled with each other. Turn away, turn away and start walking. That's what she needed to do. Alwyn could feel Cyrus standing beside her.

"Keep a level head, Alwyn."

Yes, that's what she needed to do. It didn't matter if that man, though he was barely only a year older than her, was the reason the crew had left the ship.

But before Alwyn could force her feet to redirect their path, Tor spotted her. His eyes narrowed and his lip curled into an ugly snarl.

"You scumming wench!" he shouted.

Alwyn clenched her fists. Level head, Alwyn, level head. You have a task to accomplish, stay focused.

"This is your ruddy fault!" Tor yelled, storming towards Alwyn, Regs, and Dip joining him.

Find another way.

"My fault?" Alwyn said, holding in the numerous titles she could have given him.