Into the Land of Valentia

Chapter the Seventh

VII

Waking up in a strange bed was a new experience for Vivica. 

She came to slowly, feeling the rough fabric of the sheets rub against her skin and the golden sunlight burning her closed eyelids. When she blinked them open, the light burned and she snapped them shut once more before moving out of the ray’s reach.

While the innkeeper had insisted on keeping Cayden in their best room while he regained his strength, he had confined Vivica to the drunkard’s room. This small amount of space, containing merely a cot and a bucket, was where they put those who had drunk too much and passed out at the tavern.

Wrinkling her nose as the stench of vomit hit her senses, she decided that getting out as soon as possible was in order. It was clear the innkeeper’s opinion of her was very low. Vivica didn’t like wasting her time being around people who despised her. 

Cayden and his dislike for her was completely different; she didn’t understand it at all, since it seemed to wax and wane without any kind of consistency. She never knew when he was going to be teasing, civil, or completely against everything she said or did. 

The drunkard’s room was right beside the tavern, and she ducked quickly up the stairs before any of its early occupants caught sight of her. She’d braided her hair before going to sleep, but by now there were dark strands hanging loose. Not to mention she felt vulnerable in the white nightdress she was forced to wear. What didn’t that barmaid understand about “I hate dresses”?

Vivica headed straight to the room where Cayden was. Her fist was reaching out to knock on the door when it was enveloped in someone else’s hand. She looked up to see the barmaid from the other night.

“Thom said he was to be left alone,” the barmaid informed her. Vivica assumed that Thom was the innkeeper. She really didn’t like that man.

“I can understand why,” Vivica started to explain, “but he—Cayden—would be fine with me coming in. He knows that we’re in a bit of a hurry, so. . . .” Vivica threw the barmaid a quick smile before reaching out to knock again.

She was stopped once more. “Thom said he was to be left alone,” the barmaid repeated, a hint of annoyance in her voice. 

At that moment, Vivica was more than ready to start shouting at the woman that she and Cayden were trying to save the princess’ life, and time was of the essence when Princess Aimee had barely more than a fortnight left before she would die of the informally-fatal Desidua. She only managed to stop herself with a sharp reminder that it would be disastrous if others found out.

However, for the first time she wondered how many people knew of the princess’ disease. Obviously the king and queen, as well as Cayden and herself. But what about the maids who cleaned Princess Aimee’s room, and the servants who helped dress her, and the physician who treated her? How was the illness still a secret? People could be barred from entering the princess’ chambers, but then wouldn’t they only grow suspicious?

Remembering that the barmaid was still standing there, her hand tightly clenching Vivica’s as she gave off her hardest glare, Vivica decided to ask Cayden later and deal with this problem now.

“Alright,” she said, pretending to give up. “I’ll just head to the bathing room. If you could point me in the right direction. . . ?”

The barmaid took on a satisfied expression before gesturing down the hall with her pointy chin. “Second to last door. Don’t disturb the guests.”

Vivica threw the woman a fake smile before turning on her heel and heading towards the bathing room. She opened the door, walked in, counted to five, then emerged cautiously. With the barmaid nowhere in sight, she congratulated herself on a job well done before hurrying into Cayden’s room.