Chapter 203: Storytelling (4)

"So that is what became of you." Ronan pushed Ger off him and hopped back to his feet as he stared at Axel and registered his side of the events leading to how they came to be now. He never did find out until just this moment. "Cilv could have killed you."

"Could have," Axel replied pensively. "But she didn’t. I’m not saying what she has done is right, but we know nothing of the lass. We do not know what life she has lived-"

"Spare me of this talk, Axe. I will not think more of it. She is not some girl needing to be rescued. She may ’steal to survive’, but Cilv got greedy and made her choice," Ger snapped, glaring at Axel from his position on the ground. He extended his legs out towards the fire, sitting with one bent knee, resing an outstretched arm while refusing to look at him again, watching the blue flames instead.

Evanna looked down at her gloved hands. She was conflicted by the battle of emotions in her chest. She understood Axel’s point clearly, feeling some sympathy for the shapeshifter but then she thought of the gem and her dying mother, and she quietly stared at the flames like Ger. Cilv chose gold over a life and that she could not forgive her for.

The camp had grown quiet at the mention of their former ’comrade’. Evanna didn’t like it. She didn’t want her reunion with her friends to turn so gloomy, leaving each to their own thoughts. "What happened next?" She asked, not directing her question to anyone in particular.

Ronan cleared his throat. "I went to the Rose and Crown the following morning without Axel and Ger. They did not return, but I wasn’t going to waste such an opportunity.."

Like usual, greying clouds loomed over the streets of Kuramji, as though the miserable town itself could not go without a day of rain, snow or storm. But Ronan could not deny that maybe it was a blessing in disguise as the rain washed away the stench and dirt of the streets. With the morning sun barely shining out of the rain clouds, Ronan set off to the Rose and Crown.

He remained hidden, his hood covering his features even though the streets were sparse. The only life was of vendors readying their stalls and grubby-looking street urchins returning from a night of thieving or preparing themselves for the day ahead. Ronan continued, going down twists and turns of streets until he found himself in front of the inn ten minutes early.

Slipping inside the inn so early caused a stir of curses, pans and cutlery echoing through double doors that he presumed was the kitchen. "We’re not open!"

No, they weren’t. Ronan glanced at the empty bar, stools and chairs lifted on the tables. A burly man with a shaved head and long beard burst through the doors, a mallet in one hand and knife in the other, a white apron tied to his front. "Get out. There are no vacancies, and the bar ’n kitchens not open for another four hours."

Ronan placed his hand in his pocket, the action too quick for the man who raised the mallet, ready to defend himself. "What if I am not here for food, beverage or bed?" Ronan pulled out a large coin purse and shook it. The man’s arm faltered, his eyes looking intently at the small bag. "I will not be a nuisance. Do you know the meeting this morning.. Sir?"

"I am no sir nor gentleman. Ruth is me name. Will that small bag cover any damage to my inn?" The man responded gruffly, still expecting there to be trouble. Ronan’s lips twitched. It was Kuramji, so he could see the man’s reasoning for such reluctance to get involved.

Ronan pulled out a few of the gold coins, rubbing them together. "Well, Ruth, there is more where this came from. Another bag for information about the meeting and for a hiding spot I can watch from." He watched the man lower his tools, his brows furrowing on his flushed and weathered face from too much liquor and life possibly at seas before this inn.

"I don’t like spies.. but I don’t much like that prince either."

Ronan grinned at the man’s acceptance of his bribery. It was against a prince, but it wasn’t his prince. Loyalty couldn’t be brought, though; if he could pay to hide in a safe spot, then another could pay to loosen his tongue. It was dangerous but a worthy risk for his princess.

Ruth didn’t like spies, but he sure had many hiding spots for a room that was meant to be ’secure’ that was soundproofed to any outside who might listen at doors. Ronan was standing in between walls, a secret passage that only the innkeeper knew of. He could watch through a painting. Maybe Ruth knew more secrets than he let on.

If the prince and others of similar status or of nobility stayed at the Rose & Crown, unable to avoid the town on their travels, they most likely used this private space instead of the busy and noisy bar area. As it were, Cilv was the first to arrive at the room. She sauntered in, her gait lazy, nonchalant even with the guards ushering her in.

The shapeshifter scanned her surroundings, pausing momentarily as her eyes looked straight at Ronan’s. His heart sped, and he held his breath, realising in horror that Cilv could probably hear him. But Ruth said these secret halls were also soundproof.

Cilv’s gaze didn’t remain long on him, or more than likely, the painting in front of him as she moved away and stood by the window, watching outside at the gloomy weather. She turned her head to the side before the loud stomping of boots entered through the door, and there looking well rested, clean and wearing rich, finely fitted attire and a black sword strapped to his back, was prince Conrad. His piercing golden eyes swept the room before finally landing on the tiny shapeshifter. And she was small when compared to Conrad’s large size.

The prince looked her up and down as she sauntered towards him, her hips swaying from side to side. Conrad didn’t pay her flirtatious manner any mind and walked to the cabinet directly in front of where Ronan waited. Again he held his breath, watching with a furious beat of his heart as Conrad smirked, his eyes gleaming at him as he poured himself a tea.

A tea!? Didn’t royalty have servants for this?

Ronan moved slightly to look around the room, but there was nobody besides Cilv, Conrad and the guards. "Hot beverage?" He asked politely.

Didn’t Ger say he was an arrogant asshole?

Arrogant, yes. But if Conrad was really so bad, would he offer someone like Cilv a drink? Many royals, not Evanna, tended to look down their noses at those lesser than their rank. It was apparent, Cilv was not of nobility. It was also obvious that Ger more than likely let jealousy outweigh his thoughts about the prince. He did outrank him, and even Ronan could appreciate the man’s handsome features.

"I’d prefer coins than drink, majesty." She curtsied well enough, though.

Conrad smiled, turning to stare at her above the teacup he raised to his face. "Please, I’m not the king of Hatherland. Highness or prince will do," he corrected her. "So, how is it I have lost the command of my men and am meeting a woman who allegedly knows the princess of Dunhurst?"

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay Read