Chapter 21 The Stowaway #2
Silver lined his small eyes, and his lower lip quivered as he looked to the prince and then at his father up ahead.
He shook his head and went on his way.
“Keep up, Jakob!” His father yelled.
The boy stumbled on with too thin legs and arms.
Luci dismounted and brought the horses to where the prince stood, staring off after the boy.
“Is everywhere like this?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Luci answered.
The truth was that she was nearly as sheltered as he was. She may have been a servant in name, but she was loved like a noble. The people’s struggles were memories from her early childhood that she tried very hard to forget.
“You grew up like this?” he asked, still staring after the boy.
“Worse. That child has a father. Piccadilly Street in Thornhollow is where people go to be forgotten. Do you see that little girl with the tattered doll, the smile she wears? That doesn’t exist on Piccadilly Street.
Only men who take and women who exist. Children who fight to be invisible. Every town has a Piccadilly Street.”
Silence stretched along with the setting sun that painted the sky above them with a sickly red hue. Like the sun wanted him to see what his Kingdom was made of as much as the people who toiled, oblivious to them.
He was silent as he took in the truth around them, throat bobbing.
Luci couldn’t bring herself to look away.
There was a vision in her mind of the crown prince, but this moment threatened to paint it with new colors.
It was in the way she held her breath, chest aching.
In the way her shoulders ached with the tightness she refused to release.
“I knew things were harder, but not this,” he said.
“Now you know,” she whispered.
Silver lined his eyes, and he blinked it away, clearing his throat.
“Now I know,” he agreed.
And in those words, she knew that the painting in her mind was a fair rendition of him. Laugh lines and all. Born to privilege, but integrity in his bones. It was the reason he was standing in this town in the first place. A hope. A fool’s dream. And so it was no surprise what he said next.
“I’ll fix this even if I can’t bring back magic. Midnight knows we have enough in the capital. Why should we have much when they have little?” he asked.
Luci swallowed hard, feeling like she was somewhere in between reality and a dream.
“Your marriage tour is supposed to make them forget what they don’t have,” Luci said.
His gaze jerked towards hers, and in silence, he spoke a million words she didn’t understand. But goodness knew she wanted to. She wanted to know what each one meant down to its most finite understanding.
“Luci,” he began.
Maybe she wanted to understand, but with the sound of her name on his lips, she knew she couldn’t.
Sniffing, she stared at the gravel beneath her boots.
“We should go,” she said.
Not waiting for him, she walked the horses to the inn until he gently took Grimsbane’s reins from her, brushing her hand as he did. A silent apology. One she couldn’t accept, even though she wanted to.
A stable sat to the right of the winding stairs, and a young man sat, blade of hay sitting between his teeth as he stared off into nothing.
“We’d like to have our horses tended to,” Luci said quietly.
It felt like the world was made of glass and any loud noise might shatter it into a million pieces.
The man jumped and spat out the piece of hay, wiping off his pants that were covered in dirt when he took in the two of them.
“You must be coming from the Capital,” he said, accent strong. “We haven’t had many people out from there in some time.”
“Do you have room for our horses?” Prince Ira asked.
The man snorted, yellow hair falling into his eyes, and he laughed.
“Aren’t people from the captain meant to be smart? I just said we haven’t had visitors. The whole stable’s open.”
Luci hid her smile behind her hand, but the way Prince Ira’s eyes flashed towards her, she knew he saw. At least the corner of his mouth pulled up, which said he wasn’t offended. Then again, she had yet to see him offended at all. Chronically good-natured. A symptom of privilege.
Luci carefully lifted the lid of the brown basket, and Calcifer poked his head out, nose flaring, no doubt taking in the smell of meat. It was probably the longest he’d ever gone without a meal.
“Never seen a cat in a basket before.” The man said, taking the reins.
“He wishes you never saw it either. He’s a stowaway,” she said, pulling him up and into her arms.
He let out a pitiful meow that spoke of untold trauma.
Prince Ira handed the man several gold coins, and Luci rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to kick him in the shin.
They started up the winding stairs, and she clutched Calcifer closer.
“You might as well just ask to be robbed if you are going to hand out gold coins like they are nothing,” she said.
“I was trying to cover expenses,” he said.
“You let them tell you how much and you haggle down to a lower price,” she whispered.
“That seems like a strange use of everyone’s time,” he said.
“That’s just how it is,” she said.
They reached the front door, which was a deep oak cut with a rose carved into it. Beautiful craftsmanship that spoke of a time when this town knew wealth. The smell of herbs and fresh meat greeted them the moment they opened the door. Calcifer squirmed in her arms.
No doubt if she let him go, he would follow that scent and end up getting them kicked out before they could even pay.
“I saw you two down there talking to Isaac. I already had Grettell start making up our best room for you. It’s been a while since we had visitors, but even longer since we’ve seen a young couple like yourselves.”
Luci felt herself pale beneath the elderly woman’s words. The blood quickly returned to her face in a fury as the gray-haired woman with pale eyes gave them a knowing look. She couldn’t even bear to see the prince’s face in that moment; goodness knew he probably found it all wildly funny.
“We-” Luci tried.
The woman waved a hand and came around the wooden desk that oversaw plants of every color and build beneath it. The inside is as charming as the outside.
“No need to be embarrassed. I saw the way the two of you were looking at each other and was reminded of my own Thomas. He passed a few years ago, but he used to look at me the same way. Now, what are you two newlyweds doing in these parts? You’ll be coming from the capital, no doubt dressed like that. ”
Luci had half a mind to tell the woman she wasn’t half as perceptive as she thought she was, but the spark of silver in her eyes when she talked about her deceased husband stilled Luci’s words.
“We are headed to the Blue Mountains.” The Prince said.
Luci groaned and buried her head in Calcifer’s fur to hide her frustration. Of course, he would just announce exactly where they were going. In fact, she half expected him to pull out their-
“This is the map we are using. We had to take a bit of a detour because we found Calcifer stowed away, that’s the cat, we actually were wondering if you knew of anyone who might keep an eye on him for a few days,” he said as if they were old friends.
“The Blue Mountains! They say they were once home to the Blue Fairy. The most powerful fairy godmother until she went to serve the Vencia line. There isn’t much up there now, even the poppies have passed on.
You’d be better off looking to the Glass Mountains over here,” she said, pointing at the map.
"Ivandel has beautiful greenery this time of year and a spring festival. We used to have our own, but times are hard.”
The wrinkles on her face turned down as she frowned, pulling a shaking finger away from the map.
“How long has the town been struggling?” Prince Ira asked.
She gave him a sad smile. “I suppose you capital folk don’t feel it quite as much. It’s been a slow sort of fall, but I’d say the last ten years have been the hardest. Most of those kids out there don’t know a time when their parents didn’t smile, and working was the only thing to look forward to.”
“That’s terrible.” Prince Ira said.
There was such a sorrow laced through the words that Luci pulled her face from Calcifer to see that face that only knew how to smile pulled down into thin lips and heavy eyes.
If there was one thing she knew about Ira Vencia, it was that he didn’t know how to lie or deceive.
That was genuine emotion pooling behind his eyes.
These were his people and their suffering, now that he knew of it, was his to bear as well.
“I hope your streets will once more be filled with festivals and laughter,” he said.
The old woman might not have known it, but Luci did.
In that moment, he wasn’t just wishing for them, but making a promise.
Something burned inside Luci’s chest, and though she wasn’t the type to pin hopes and dreams on anyone except herself, she thought if she were going to take a chance on anyone, it would be him.
The woman wipes at her eyes and sniffs loudly.
“Look at me making a fool of myself. It’s old age.
Makes my eyes burn as I douse them in salt water.
There is no use for it. Anyway, the crown prince’s marriage is rumored to be happening soon, and I’m sure we will have a right celebration for it.
So you see, there is always something to look forward to. ”
The burning in her chest froze over, and she was reminded once more of why she was standing there. Brielle.
“My name's Agnes, by the way, Agnes Gray. This inn has been in my family for generations. Once upon a time, the beds were said to be blessed by the sleeping princess’s godmother, for it was here that her prince spent the night on the way to rescue her from her curse. That’s the family lore, anyway.
There I go rambling again, my husband used to say I’d talk to the wall if the fancy took me.
You two must be tired. What names should I put down for the registry?
” she asked, going back around to pull out a dusty leather-bound book.
The previous names were all faded till their names were nearly lost to time. Agnes smiled brightly up at them, her pen hovering over the cream paper.
“My name is-” Prince Ira began.
“Liam and Bridia Walker,” Luci said, shooting him a glare.
Prince Ira raised two eyebrows as a sly smile started to creep over his face.
Luci shot him a glare, but even as he turned his gaze back to Agnes, his dimples gave away his amusement.
Why Luci gave the name of the son of Blythe’s gardener and his wife was beyond her.
All she knew was that the idiot next to her was absolutely about to give away his identity at the first chance.
Agnes finished her perfect scrawl as if she wanted to make the entry count and raised her eyes, first to Luci and then to Prince Ira, her wrinkles pulling back as she broke into a wide grin.
“I know those looks well enough. My husband used to say there was no greater pride for a man than hearing his bride be called by his family name. I used to blush something fierce, just like you, Ms. Bridia, but it’s little things like those that make me miss him most. You two are lucky to be young and in love. It’s the greatest gift there is.”
A tear leaked from her right eye that she quickly wiped away, and the grief in her words put to sleep the frustration at her presumptions. This was a woman who had loved and lost. Luci wouldn’t- couldn’t begrudge her the products of her memories.
“It has truly been a pleasure to meet you, Agnes.” Prince Ira said, bowing her head to her.
Her sorrow was quickly packed away by a laugh that rippled like wind on a lake.
“What a charmer, no wonder you fell for him,” Agnes said.
“Unfortunately, my wife is immune to charm; I think it’s my quick wit that did her in,” he said.
Luci’s stomach did what could only be considered a flip, where it then tried to rearrange itself inside of her.
She was absolutely going to ignore all of that, and his words lingered in the air.
Under no circumstances was she going to even think about the way his dimples shone against his bright smile.
“More like pity.” Luci bit out.
Agnes chuckled.
“Just like my Thomas and me. Come this way, I’ll show you to your room. Grettell should be done now.”
Agnes made for the dark oak stairs that curved up and in towards a balcony with several doors at the top.
“After you, darling.” Prince Ira said, holding out his hand.
Luci narrowed her eyes at him before stepping closer so Agnes wouldn’t hear.
“I’m going to let Calcifer suffocate you in your sleep,” she said.
His laugh was midnight fires and warm apple cider.
She wished she could hate the way it washed over her and draped her in something that felt an awful lot like comfort.