𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕 𝚅𝚎𝚒𝚕

CHAPTER 27

After hours of thinking being overwhelmed by the urge to escape, you quickly grab a leather satchel from the closet and start throwing in some basic belongings – a few changes of clothes, a small pouch of coins, and a dagger. Your heart races as you zip up the bag, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

As you finish packing, you take a deep breath and pull the hood of a warm cloak over your head, hiding your face in the shadows. With a final glance around your room, you quickly and quietly slip out into the hallway.

The castle is eerily quiet at this hour, the only sound being the soft padding of your footsteps against the cold stone floors. You make your way through the winding corridors, taking back passages and secret routes you've memorized over the years to avoid being seen.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the risk of being caught adding an extra layer of tension to your escape. You reach a concealed exit, the cold night air hitting you as you push open the door and slip out into the darkness.

With a last glance at the castle, you nudge Seraphina with your heels and urge her forward. The horse picks up the pace, her hooves hitting the ground in a rhythmic cadence as you ride farther and farther away from the palace and towards the town.

The wind whistles through your hair as you ride, the night sky overhead illuminated by a blanket of stars. The silence of the night is broken only by the sound of Seraphina's steady hoofbeats and the occasional distant sound of wildlife.

You feel a mix of excitement and trepidation as you guide Seraphina through the darkened streets of the town. The townspeople are asleep, their homes quiet and dark, blissfully unaware of your escape.

You finally approach a small inn on the edge of town, its dimly lit windows casting a warmly inviting glow into the dark night. You dismount and lead Seraphina into the inn' stables, tying her up next to a few other horses.

You pat Seraphina's neck gently, whispering reassurances to her. "It's okay, girl." you murmur. "You're safe here for now. I'll be back for you soon." Seraphina nuzzles your hand, seeming to understand your words, as if giving you her own reassurance in return.

Once Seraphina is settled, you turn towards the entrance to the inn. Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and step into the warmth and light of the inn's common room.

The innkeeper, a kindly middle-aged woman, looks up from behind the counter. Her face lights up as she notices your noble attire. "Welcome, miss," she says warmly, her voice betraying a hint of surprise. "Can I get you a room for the night?"

"Yes, please." you reply, keeping your voice level to hide the nervous tremor in your tone. You quickly scan the room, noticing the few patrons scattered about, most of them too deep in their cups to pay much attention to you.

The innkeeper nods and hands you a key from behind the counter. "That'll be two silver pieces for the night," she says, still eyeing your attire. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, I'm just passing through," you respond, giving her a polite smile. You remove the requested coins from your satchel and lay them on the counter, hoping the innkeeper doesn't press you for more information.

The innkeeper takes the coins and nods. "Well, you're welcome to rest here for as long as you need, my name is Nancine, what's yours dear?" she says with a smile, grabbing your room key.

"Oh, uh... My name is Kaylee." you reply, giving her the name of one of your maids. You decide it best not to provide too much personal information, especially since you're technically a runaway.

Nancine nods and hands you the room key. "Very well, Ms. Kaylee. Your room is down the hall, second door on the left. If you need anything, just give me a shout."

"Thank you," you say, taking the key. You give Nancine another smile and make your way down the hall to your room, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety.

You unlock the door and step inside, closing it quietly behind you. The room is small but cozy, with a bed, a washstand, and a small table and chair. You take a moment to steady your nerves, feeling the weight of your decision crashing down on you.

You place your satchel on the bed and sit down on the edge, exhaustion suddenly taking over your body. The events of the past few hours are catching up to you, and your body and mind finally start to relax. You take a deep breath, trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts and emotions swirling inside you.

Your stomach suddenly lets out a loud growl, as if protesting the lack of sustenance since you left the castle. You realize you haven't eaten anything all day, being too preoccupied with your plans and escape.

You make your way back to the common room, the sounds of conversations and glasses clinking together filling the air. Most patrons are occupied with their drinks and meals, paying little attention to your presence.

You take a seat at a small unoccupied table near the back, trying to keep a low profile. A wiry looking waiter approaches your table, a bored expression on his face. "What'll it be, miss?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at your attire.

"Just a bowl of stew and some bread, please," you say, keeping your tone casual. You're keenly aware of how out of place you look, especially in these working-class surroundings, but you try to act natural.

The waiter gives you a nod and leaves to fetch your order. You take a moment to look around the room. The patrons are mostly peasants and workers, hard-faced and rugged. A few of them give you curious glances, but none attempt to strike up a conversation.

A few moments later, the waiter returns with a steaming bowl of stew and a chunk of dark bread. He sets it down in front of you, his eyes lingering on your face as if debating whether to say something.

"Thank you," you say, giving him a polite nod. The waiter nods in response and heads back to the bar, but you catch him stealing glances at you a few times as you eat your meal.

Despite the unappetizing surroundings, the food is surprisingly good. The stew is thick and meaty, and the bread is fresh and crusty. You force down a few mouthfuls, but find your appetite lacking, nerves still gnawing at your stomach.

As you eat, a man, tall and solidly built, approached your table. His face is weathered and rugged, with a scraggly beard and a pair of piercing blue eyes. He gives you a crooked smile as he takes a seat across from you without invitation.

"You don't look like you belong here, sweets." he says bluntly, his voice gravelly. He eyes your attire and the way you hold yourself, obviously intrigued by your obvious noble background.

"Just passing through," you reply, trying to keep your voice even. This man makes you uneasy, the way he stares at you, almost undressing you with his eyes.

The man chuckles, the sound low and raspy. "Just passing through, huh? I ain't never seen a fine lady like you in these parts before." He leers at you, a hint of suggestion in his tone. "What's your name sweets?"

"Kaylee," you reply, sticking to your earlier alias. You keep your expression neutral, not wanting to give this man any more reason to bother you.

The man grins widely, revealing a few missing teeth. "Pretty name, for a pretty girl. I'm Hencely." He leans forward a little, resting his elbows on the table. "You all alone here, Kaylee?"

"Yes, I am," you respond, keeping your voice level. You're increasingly uncomfortable with this man, his tone and the way he looks at you setting off alarm bells in your mind.

Hencely lets out a low laugh. "A pretty little flower like you all alone in a place like this... That ain't right. You should have someone looking after you." His grin becomes more wolfish, his intent clear.

"I can look after myself," you say firmly, trying to keep your tone confident. "And I'd like to finish my dinner in peace." You turn your attention back to your meal, hoping he'll take the hint and leave you alone.

Hencely doesn't take the hint. In fact, he seems even more amused by your response. "Feisty, huh? I like that." he says, his gaze roaming over you again. "Maybe I should be the one looking after you. I can think of a few ways to keep you safe, and warm, if you catch my drift."

Your stomach twists in disgust as his implication becomes clear. You look up at him, trying to keep your expression neutral, but unable to hide the anger that flashes in your eyes. "I don't need your protection, and I certainly don't want your... company."