Chapter 11
It has been four years.
And somehow, against all logic, probability, and narrative expectation, I am still alive.
According to the original timeline, I should have spiraled long ago. I was supposed to lose control of my magic, make a dramatic and irreversible mistake involving Princess Lysenne, and die in a way that would satisfy both the plot and the readers who enjoy emotional devastation.
Clearly, fate had scheduling issues.
Oh, you must me wondering what am I rambling about. Let me recap.
That night, I learned I was being shipped off to somewhere unknown under the noble-sounding label of "charity relocation," which, as it turned out, was royal language for please disappear quietly and never inconvenience us again.
Apparently, during one of Lysenne's royal dinners with her parents and Prince Lucien (who, at that point, I still had questions about because I genuinely could not understand why he remained in the kingdom) she brought up the strange apprentice who kept doing bizarre things.
By bizarre things, she meant me.
The king, being a man of impressive political instincts and deeply questionable parenting choices, figured out exactly who they were talking about, panicked, and decided the safest solution was to remove me from the equation entirely.
Subtle.
I managed to learn the route of the journey, the planned stops, the number of people traveling, and how many knights would accompany us.
The security was laughably light.
Nothing says confidence like discovering your forced relocation has mediocre protection.
I made a plan.
A good one, actually.
I had to board the carriage first because they would count everyone before departure.
The plan was simple.
Board the carriage. Wait. Find an opportunity. Disappear.
Go somewhere far enough that nobody would think to search.
Feeling absurdly proud of myself, I spread the route map across my bed and began packing.
That was when a voice behind me said, "What's that?"
I nearly launched my soul out of my body.
Slowly, I turned.
"M...Mm...Martha?"
She stood at the doorway, looking at me, then at the paper I had very carefully titled Escape Plan in capital letter.
Crap. I gave her what I hoped was a charming smile.
In reality, it was probably the facial expression of someone caught burying a body.
Her eyes moved to the paper.
Then back to me.
I panicked.
"It's... it's... um..."
My brain, traitor that it was, abandoned me.
"A study schedule."
Silence.
Martha stared at me.
Even I was offended by that excuse.
Slowly, she sighed.
Then she walked toward me, folded the paper without comment, tucked it into my satchel, and placed a small pouch into my hand.
Coins. Not many.
"This is what I have, child," she said quietly. "Live well."
Then she turned and walked away.
Just like that.
No lecture.
No warning.
No attempt to stop me.
I stood there holding the pouch, feeling something tight settle in my chest.
Something softer and harder to name.
Martha had never been affectionate.
She had never said much.
But she had cared.
She had been the only person in that palace who cared for Cassiane.
And now... For me.
The journey began the next night.
It was long, deeply uncomfortable. I spent most of the ride curled into a corner with my hood pulled low, speaking to no one.
Two days later, the carriage stopped at a small town.
People climbed down to stretch, talk, and buy food.
This was my chance.
I waited.
Counted the guards.
Tracked their positions.
Watched where attention shifted.
Then I slipped away.
No dramatic chase followed.
No one shouted.
No one noticed.
I moved through the streets carefully, trying not to attract attention.
That wasn't difficult.
I looked terrible.
Dust clung to everything.
My clothes were wrinkled.
I was exhausted, hungry, and had the appearance of someone one poor decision away from committing petty theft.
Most people avoided eye contact.
Excellent.
I kept walking until voices nearby caught my attention.
A group of men were loading crates of vegetables onto a large carriage.
I slowed.
One of them groaned.
"Why are we taking all this to Eldhollow again?"
I stopped.
Eldhollow.
Wait.
I knew that name.
My brain scrambled through old story memories.
Then it clicked.
Eldhollow.
That tiny forgotten town mentioned once in passing.
Near the western woods, remote, practically abandoned.
I almost smiled.
One man snorted, "Because they pay well, idiot."
Another laughed.
"And because nobody else wants to go that far."
Good. Very good.
If traders hated the route, nobles definitely wouldn't bother.
I waited until they finished loading.
Then, using stealth skills developed entirely through repeated bad decisions and survival instinct, I climbed into the carriage and wedged myself between crates.
Was it comfortable? No.
Did I smell like cabbage by the end? Absolutely.
Did I regret my life choices?
Frequently, estimate roughly four times an hour.
After what felt like an eternity, the carriage finally reached Eldhollow.
It was dawn when we arrived, though I had lost count of how many days had passed.
Honestly, I was impressed I hadn't been caught.
Perhaps they assumed I was another sack of produce.
I slipped out and entered the market.
I bought food.
Then clothes.
Then kept walking.
Aimlessly.
That was the problem with escape plans.
Mine had ended at escape.
I had dedicated significant energy toward leaving and approximately zero energy toward what came after.
As evening approached, fatigue began catching up with me.
I wandered deeper into town.
Eldhollow was quiet.
Small wooden houses lined muddy roads. Smoke curled from chimneys, and dense woods loomed nearby like silent guardians.
The entire place felt simple.
Dusk settled and I began to panic.
My hunger was beginning to override rational thought when I spotted a small inn near the woods.
Warm light spilled from its windows like an invitation from the universe.
I pushed the door open.
Warmth hit me first.
Then the smell of food.
My soul briefly considered ascending.
Behind the counter stood an elderly woman with sharp eyes, grey hair tied back, and the posture of someone who could either feed you soup or break your spine depending on your attitude.
She looked at me once.
Then twice.
Then narrowed her eyes.
"You look awful."
I blinked.
Well.
She was quite.... direct.
"I've had a rough week."
She crossed her arms.
"What happened?"
And so I lied.
Not entirely.
Just strategically.
"I was robbed," I continued, "I lost my way."
Also true.
In every possible sense.
"I'm an orphan."
That was... complicated.
Depending on which world we were discussing, not entirely false.
"And I have no money."
That part hurt.
The woman stared at me for several long seconds.
I braced for rejection.
Instead, she sighed.
"Sit before you collapse."
I obeyed immediately.
She disappeared into the back and returned with food.
Real hot food.
I ate, and it felt like warmth.
She watched the entire time with the deeply unimpressed expression of someone evaluating a stray cat.
When I finished, she spoke.
"I need help around here."
I looked up.
"What?"
"I'm old."
She gestured around.
"This inn isn't going to run itself."
I stared.
Then understood.
Then stared harder.
"Are you... offering me work?"
She snorted.
"I'm offering you a place to stay and food if you work."
I nearly grabbed her hands.
"Yes."
Too eager.
Far too eager.
I straightened.
"I mean... yes, that sounds reasonable."
She squinted.
Then I remembered something important.
I hesitated.
"How far is the kingdom from here?"
She scoffed.
"Far. Far enough to say that the kingdom doesn't care about this place." Bitterness sharpened her voice. "People here don't care about them either."
I felt real relief.
This was good.
Far away. Forgotten. Ignored.
Exactly what I needed.
This was safe.
And for now, safety would have to be enough.