Chapter 2
Sonya had been so focused on running away that she hadn’t planned out exactly what to do after she had escaped.
Putting away her dagger, she walked away from the quiet of the forest and towards the buzz of the town, which seemed like a good place to start.
Then, she would find someplace to sit for a moment, to collect her thoughts and come up with a plan.
She had enough coin to secure lodgings, and after a good night’s rest, she could work out the rest.
Knowing her father, she was certain he would keep her disappearance on a need-to-know basis. To declare her as missing would only put her in danger. What if the wrong sort of people got their hands on her? No, the king would look for her quietly. And they would not find her.
There were fewer carriages here in the Outskirts and many more men, laughing and talking as they went from one establishment to the next.
Her ears rang from the noise as she went down a lane.
It looked to be an area for travelers; she saw a sign for a carriage stop that would take passengers to different cities.
Sonya considered hopping onto one for a moment, but just the idea made her shrink with fear. Being this far away from the castle felt frightening enough; going hundreds of miles further would be too much too soon.
Shivering, Sonya wiped her face. Her newly cropped hair was sticking to her face and neck. While the short length was much lighter, it felt messier, untidy. Now that she was safe, she suddenly felt overwhelmed.
Sonya was used to everything being neat at the castle—fastidiously clean—from her appearance to her rooms to everywhere she went and everyone she interacted with.
Because of her health, her father was strict about keeping everything unsullied and immaculate.
She had spent many days watching as a team of maids scrubbed and cleaned and organized.
There was never a speck of dust to be found in her room; the sheets and towels were washed continuously; and she wore a new dress every day.
The dress she wore now was far from starched and new. She needed to get out of the rain. Sonya looked around, and she spotted a few people leaving a tavern.
Nobody batted an eyelid at her as she entered.
Even so, she was still self-conscious. No one will recognize you here, she reminded herself.
Having been kept tucked away all her life, there were very few people outside her family who’d recognize her like this, and none of those people would be found within miles of the Outskirts.
Sonya had never seen a place like this. The tavern was quite old and run-down, two hundred years old at least, and with hardly any upkeep.
Wooden tables and chairs filled the hall, chipped and worse for wear.
Cups like barrels with handles lined the tables as people drank; the cups were much bigger than anything she’d used or seen to drink beverages before.
Nothing like the fine crystal goblets or dainty porcelain teacups she was used to.
Nibbling on her lower lip, she wondered what to do.
Sonya wasn’t sure of the etiquette of such places.
Standing by the side, she stood and watched.
The front door opened and two girls who looked about her age entered.
They walked to the end of the tavern, where a woman and man were standing behind a counter.
Behind them, a door seemed to lead into a kitchen.
The girls spoke to the woman, then went to sit down, finding empty seats at one of the tables, though most of the tables were full of people eating, drinking, and talking. It was so loud in there that Sonya’s head had begun to hurt after only a few minutes.
Sonya watched as the woman at the counter filled two metal cups with something and, a few minutes later, the man returned with two plates of food.
He balanced them in one hand and took the two cups from the woman, bringing it all to the table where the girls sat and setting it down in front of them.
The drinks sloshed over the tops of the cups.
Interesting. Gathering her courage, Sonya walked to the counter. She braced herself to be recognized, but the woman hardly spared her a glance as she filled another cup.
‘What’ll you have, love?’ the woman asked. Her accent was rough, and Sonya tried to mimic the way the woman spoke to conceal her refined accent.
‘Em, can I have your best …’ she started, but the words most definitely sounded strange, and she found she didn’t know exactly what it was that people were drinking.
Luckily, the woman nodded. ‘Anything to eat?’
As if on cue, Sonya’s stomach growled. She had been so anxious during dinner in her castle rooms earlier that she had hardly eaten, and the long walk from the castle to the Outskirts had certainly made her famished.
‘Yes, please.’ She thought about it for a moment, then decided for a safe answer: ‘Whatever you have will do, thank you.’
The woman gave her a funny look. ‘Sit down, then.’
Sonya nodded, thanking her again before turning to find an empty seat.
She didn’t wish to impose on any party, but there was no table void of patrons entirely, so she had no choice.
She made her way to a table with a bench and squeezed in on the end.
Luckily, there was a bit of space between her and the group of men beside her, and they were so preoccupied in their own conversation that they didn’t spare her any attention.
Folding her hands on her lap, Sonya looked straight ahead. The tabletop was covered in breadcrumbs and spilled liquid. Sonya considered that she’d feel disgusted by such things, but she wasn’t. Conversely, she felt … excited.
She had left the castle and was out in the grand world! It felt like an adventure, the type she had only read about in her novels. A few moments later, the barkeep brought over one of the cups she had seen earlier, along with a bowl of food. It was massive.
‘Ale for you, and some stew,’ the woman told her, setting the cup and bowl down. She was gone before Sonya could give her thanks.
Sonya turned her attention to the food. She took a tentative sip of the ale, which was warm and had quite an interesting taste, unlike anything she’d had before. It was robust and fruity, which she hadn’t expected. The foam on top tickled her lips.
After tasting the ale, she looked at the bowl. The stew was thick. There were potatoes and small pieces of meat in a thick dark brown sauce with carrots and other chopped vegetables. Besides that, there was a large hunk of bread that looked to have been torn off a loaf by hand.
By hand! She had never seen bread broken that way!
The meal was a far cry from the delicately decorated courses she ate at the castle, but as she took a tentative taste, surprise shot through her.
It was good! Peppery and hearty. The bread was a bit dry, but still soft and spongy, a thick piece.
The bowl had only a spoon, and Sonya wondered how to eat the bread.
She looked to the group next to her: the men were eating a similar meal.
She watched as one man dunked his bread into the stew, then took a bite.
Feeling slightly ridiculous, Sonya did the same. Delight spread through her. Delicious!
She bit back a smile, hoping she didn’t look too silly and draw attention to herself. She had spent so many days staring out of the windows of her high tower, looking out to the world beyond her castle. She had dreamed of what it would be like to explore, and now here she was!
It was a lot dirtier and busier than she had imagined, but she was still proud of herself for making it here—even if she was a bit guilty about running away.
You had no choice, she reminded herself.
Eating her food, she listened to the conversation of the group of men next to her. They looked to be in their thirties; one man had a beard, one had long hair pulled into a bun, and one man was very thin.
‘… worked like dogs all day to prepare Castletown and for what?’ the man with the beard complained, taking a large sip of his ale.
‘For Her Royal Highness, of course,’ the thin man said, adopting a high-pitched, mocking tone. He drank his stew straight from his bowl, carelessly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Sonya’s heart rate quickened as she realized they were talking about her.
The man with the bun made an irritated sound. ‘Don’t see why we have to repave the streets just ’cause the king is having a fancy tourney to sell off his daughter.’
‘Job’s a job,’ the bearded man said, ‘but, lord.’ He stretched his back, groaning.
Sonya bristled.
King Roshan of Fairendelle was hosting suitors to win the princess’s hand, and Castletown was preparing for their arrival next month. The courting would last however long it took for the princess to make her choice; then, she would be wed on the summer solstice, June 21st.
It was why Sonya had run away.
‘You will be wed on your birthday,’ Roshan had informed her at breakfast one morning, a few months ago. ‘It is up to you to decide who will be at the altar beside you.’
Sonya had all but choked on her eggs. ‘What? Why?’
Her father looked at her as if she was silly, brow furrowed as he slathered jam across a slice of toast. ‘Because it is time for you to be wed, beta jaani,’ he replied to his dear daughter.
‘Do not worry, your brothers will each choose a suitor and you will have your pick!’ His tone was magnanimous.
Sonya had been shocked by this sudden development.
Shahmir, her eldest brother, had smiled at her kindly. ‘Don’t worry, dearest,’ he’d said. With a twirl of his hands, a rose appeared, and he handed it to her. ‘We will choose the very best suitors, of course. I’ve already got my sights set on the Duke of Granger’s son.’
‘I have high hopes for an earl from Crownley.’ Irfan, the second eldest at twenty-three, added, petting a puppy in his arms.