The Runaway King

I filled the awkward silence that followed by eating more of the supper. It was simpler than the food at either Drylliad or Farthenwood, and I liked it. Now that I had an appetite again, I felt ravenous.



Seated across from me, Nila barely touched her food, which wasn’t surprising considering the trauma she had endured. She had changed into a pastel yellow dress and had her hair tied back into braids. It was an odd contrast for how miserable she must be feeling inside. Although mourners in most surrounding countries wore dark colors, Carthyans rarely did. It was felt the life of the deceased could be better remembered through wearing colors that honored them. While I watched Nila, I became aware of Harlowe’s eyes on me. I let more of my hair spill over my face and made every effort not to betray my identity, by either my words or my manners.



“Will you stay the night?” Harlowe asked.



“I can’t.” Although for reasons I didn’t fully understand, I wished that I could. I suspected if I did, he’d convince me to stay yet another night, and then to finish out the week, and pretty soon the spare room would be offered as mine. Harlowe struck me as a man with that kind of persuasive ability. Or maybe I didn’t want to admit that the thought of staying was so tempting.



“Of course you can stay,” he insisted. “That cut on your stomach needs to heal, and I’m told there’s another bandage around your arm too.” He hesitated, then gently said, “What’s happened to you? You’re just a boy, too young to bear such wounds.”



And for the first time in weeks, I felt my age. Other boys my age were choosing apprenticeships for their careers and teasing pretty girls on their way to the market. They could still be found enjoying a game of Queen’s Cross in the streets or working an extra job to earn money for their first horse. Suddenly, I felt heartsick for a life I’d never known.



Harlowe frowned. “Son, where are your parents? Have you no family?”



I stood so quickly my chair nearly tipped over. “Will you call someone to get my horse? I need to leave. Now.”



“Did I say something wrong?” Harlowe stood as well. “Please, at least finish your meal. I owe you that, for what you did for Nila.”



“I’m glad I could help, but I really can’t stay a minute longer.”



Harlowe tenderly brushed a hand over Nila’s hair, then called a servant into the room. When he entered, Harlowe directed him to fetch my horse and to have a satchel packed with food for me.



“You’ve already given me enough,” I protested.



“It’s nothing compared to what you have given me,” Harlowe said.



When Nila stood, I crouched down to put myself at eye level with her. Like me, she was an orphan now, though I dared not explain that to her, not with her grandfather listening. All I could do was whisper, “This pain you feel inside, it will get better in time.”



Wordlessly, she patted my cheek with her small hand, then kissed my other cheek. I had to turn away for a moment while I straightened up, not trusting myself with the emotions surging through me.



Harlowe said, “I’d like to repay you. What can I do?”



My eyes darted to Nila, then back to Harlowe. “Will you keep me secret? If anyone comes to Libeth looking for me, no matter what they say, I need you to deny that I’ve been here.”



“And what would they say when they came looking?”



That I was a fool. That I was on the verge of losing everything. That I was going to get myself killed.



I shrugged. “If they come, you’ll know they’re speaking about me, whatever they say.”



Harlowe escorted me out of the dining room and toward the doors of his home. “We’ll keep you secret, but we will never forget you. You saved my granddaughter, and for that, you will always be a part of our lives.”



I stared at him for a moment, still fighting the urge to stay a little longer. Then a servant handed me the satchel of food, which was so heavy I had to sling it over my shoulder to carry it. Harlowe and Nila walked me out in front of his home, where Mystic was saddled and waiting.



“Son —” Harlowe put a hand on my shoulder. I turned and without knowing why, closed him into a hug, like a frightened child might give a beloved father. He hesitated only a moment before I felt his hands on my back.



My father wasn’t an openly affectionate man. I knew he loved me, but he was never one to speak the words, and if I’d ever tried a gesture like this, he would’ve become stiff as a board, uncertain of what to do. Thinking of him, I stepped back from Harlowe, embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to be. He only said, “Good luck in your travels. If you have a home, return there safely. And if you don’t, you’ll always have one here.”



Not trusting myself to speak, I only nodded. Then I tied the satchel over Mystic’s back, climbed on, and nodded again at Harlowe before I prodded Mystic forward and hurried away.



I had one job to do before leaving Libeth, which I accomplished in what appeared to be a poorer area of the town. I found a boy about my size walking down the road with a bundle of sticks in his arms. I called to him, then dismounted and untied the satchel of food as he came over to me.



“I have an offer for you,” I began. “Are you hungry?”



“Yes, sir.”



I opened the satchel to show him the food inside. His face lit up, then he reined in his enthusiasm, suddenly suspicious. “What do you want?”



“I have this problem,” I said. “Perhaps I’ve grown recently because my clothes are too small and they’re uncomfortable for riding. I’d prefer the clothes you’re wearing.”



His face twisted in confusion. “Sir, my clothes are little better than rags. Yours are —”



“Too small. Didn’t I make that clear? If you will trade with me, I’ll give you all the food in this satchel.” I didn’t really want to part with the food, but it was obvious this boy needed it far more than I did.



The boy stared at me for a moment, still confused. Finally, I hoisted the satchel back over my shoulder. “Never mind. I’ll find someone else.”



“No, sir, please.” Spurred into action, the boy stripped off his shirt and held it out to me. “Take it.”



I grinned, lowered the satchel, and unbuttoned my shirt. Minutes later, I was back on Mystic, without food but in the proper clothing again. And I could hear the boy whistling a bright tune as he skipped down the street with the clothes of a noble and a heavy satchel of food. His bundle of sticks, long forgotten, remained in a pile at the side of the road.



A few short hours later, I crossed the border into Avenia. Considering all the effort it had taken me to get this far, it was a rather unremarkable moment. I’d come north of the swamplands and stayed away from any roads or trails, so the border was marked only by a nearby stake in the ground.



The closest town of any size was Dichell, a pigpen for humans and one of the rougher places in Avenia. But it was where I needed to begin.



I left Mystic in a dense thicket of woods outside Dichell. There was a risk that he’d be stolen from me here, but he’d definitely be stolen if I brought him into the town. I made sure he was near some grass and had a small spring for water. Then I traveled the rest of the way on foot.



Due to the street gangs that patrolled the darkness, nights in Dichell were fairly dangerous. But in the daytime the miscreants shrank into the shadows as the more honorable citizens took over. However, safety was never a guarantee at any time of day or night. Evening was approaching, but I was armed with both a knife and a sword. Hopefully, it would keep any trouble far from me. Besides, my destination was the church, which had always been left alone.