Capítulo 7: If the Streets Could Talk
The road stretched ahead of me, long and winding, bordered by the dense, watchful forest. The trees loomed tall and ancient, their twisted branches knitting together to form a canopy that allowed only the faintest slivers of sunlight to touch the path. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth, pine, and decay. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the ground itself wanted to swallow me whole. I could feel eyes on me—unseen, but always there—a constant reminder of what people said about those who went to Quellin's court. Most never returned.
I kept my head down as the village came into view. It was a shadow of the place I remembered. The fields that had once been alive with crops were now overgrown with weeds. Homes that had been warm and inviting now seemed to sag under the weight of fear. People hurried past me without a word, avoiding my gaze as if I carried some cursed mark. I could see the suspicion in their faces, feel it in the air. To them, I was one of his now, a pawn of the crown. And no one trusted those who served Quellin.
I tried not to let it bother me, but the knot in my stomach tightened with every step. They didn't know the truth. I wasn't one of them. But neither was I truly one of these people anymore.
The Golden Peacock stood at the far end of the village, its garish red lanterns and gold-painted columns stark against the gray of the surrounding buildings. I hesitated at the threshold, the familiar scent of incense and perfume wafting out to greet me. It pulled me back, all at once, to the life I had left behind. Inside, laughter and whispered conversations filled the air, and the sight of the girls—draped in silks, lounging on velvet cushions—made my heart ache. Nothing had changed. Except me.
"Amaris!" A voice cut through the haze, shrill and full of excitement.
I barely had time to brace myself before the girls surrounded me, eyes wide and eager. They clung to me like I was some exotic bird, back from an unknown land.
"Tell us everything! What's it like? Is the castle as terrifying as they say?"
"Is the king as terrifying as they say?" another chimed in.
I forced a smile, heat creeping up my neck. "He's... complicated."
"Oh, come now," one of them teased, nudging me playfully. "You can't just leave us with that. Is he handsome?"
Before I could even think of a response, the room seemed to shift, a familiar presence cutting through the excitement. Madam Sevine. She glided toward me, her dark eyes sharp and calculating as ever, a smile tugging at her lips though it never reached her eyes.
"The girls are right, Amaris. We're all dying to know—has the king deflowered you yet?"
The blood rushed to my face, and I couldn't stop myself from looking away. "I… we've barely spoken," I mumbled, desperate to escape the topic. I can't be here anymore.
Madam Sevine's laugh was low, almost purring, as she waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, but that blush says otherwise. Don't worry, child. You're doing your part to keep the peace."
I nodded quickly, murmuring some excuse before slipping away, the weight of their stares still heavy on my back. I stumbled out into the streets, my head spinning with the mix of memories, fear, and shame. This village had once been my home. But now, it felt like a foreign land, as if I didn't belong anywhere. I wasn't a slave anymore, but I wasn't truly free, either.
I kept walking, trying to push the thoughts from my mind, but the sound of someone calling my name stopped me in my tracks. "Amaris!"
I turned, heart sinking as a couple hurried toward me. They looked familiar—too familiar. As they drew closer, their faces etched with worry and desperation, the realization hit me like a cold slap. Trista. Vanja. Genva. Their daughters had been taken to the court with me.
"Please, our daughters…" The woman's voice trembled as she grabbed my arm, her grip tight. "How are they? Have you seen them?"
My stomach twisted. I had seen them—more than I wanted to admit. I knew what was happening to them in the court, the slow, silent transformation that overtook anyone who stayed too long in Quellin's world. But how could I tell these parents that? How could I explain the horrors without destroying them? My mouth opened, but the words stuck in my throat.
Before I could say anything, the clatter of hooves echoed against the cobblestones. I looked up to see a figure approaching on a white stallion, gleaming in the sunlight. Evander.
The couple fell to their knees instantly, their eyes wide with awe as they bowed deeply. "My lord…"
Evander dismounted with practiced ease, his smile warm as he addressed them. "Your daughters are fine. They are safe and well cared for under the watch of the crown."
I could see the relief flood the couple's faces, their shoulders sagging as they thanked him profusely. They hurried off, reassured by the prince's words, but I could only stand there, feeling the weight of the lie. I hadn't spoken the truth, but neither had Evander. I couldn't decide if I was grateful or angry.
His blue eyes turned to me, glinting with amusement as he extended his hand. "I thought I might find you here."
Hesitantly, I took his hand, letting him pull me up onto his horse. His warmth surrounded me as I wrapped my arms around his waist, the scent of leather and pine filling my senses. The villagers watched us as we rode through the streets, their eyes filled with suspicion and disdain. I kept my head low, cheeks burning.
"If you want me to give an unbiased report to Quellin," I muttered, "I don't need the crown's interference."
Evander chuckled, turning slightly so I could see the amusement in his eyes. "Oh, I'm not here for my brother. I have no quarrel with the villagers. And they have no quarrel with me."
I scoffed softly. "No matter how nice you are, they'll never trust you. You share blood with their new tyrant."
Evander's grin widened, something mischievous flickering in his eyes. "Is that a challenge?"
Before I could respond, he kicked the horse into a sudden gallop. I gasped, tightening my grip around his waist as we sped through the valley, the wind rushing past us. My heart raced, the world a blur as we cut through the countryside, all my worries swept away in the thrill of the ride.
We slowed as we reached the outskirts of town, stopping in front of a small tavern—The Broken Elm. Evander dismounted first, then turned to me, offering his hand once again. His fingers wrapped around my waist, holding me steady as I slid off the horse. His grip lingered, and for a brief moment, our eyes met. There was a spark—undeniable, electric. It sent a shiver down my spine.
But I quickly looked away, my heart pounding for an entirely different reason.
Evander led me into the tavern with an air of easy confidence, his hand light on the small of my back as we entered The Broken Elm. The place was filled with the scent of roasted meat, woodsmoke, and the warmth of conversation. As we stepped inside, the chatter softened, but it wasn't out of fear. No, the people here greeted him like family.
"Prince Evander!" a grizzled old man called from the corner, raising a mug in toast. "Look how much you've grown since your father used to bring you 'round here as a boy!"
Several others chimed in, their faces lighting up with fond memories. I glanced at Evander, surprised to see how genuinely pleased he was by the attention. He moved through the room like he knew every single person by name—which, it turned out, he did.
"Good to see you, Erwin," he called to a man with silver hair seated near the bar. "And you, Elra," he nodded at a woman holding a basket of bread. "How are the kids?"
"Rowdy as ever, my prince," she said with a grin. "They'll be wanting to see you soon, you know. You always had a way with them."
Evander laughed, a sound that made the whole room seem lighter. I watched as he talked to each villager, his warmth contagious, his presence comforting. How different he was from Quellin. He made the room feel alive in a way that the castle never could.
As we reached the bar, the barkeep raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking curiously in my direction. "And who might this be, your highness? I don't recognize her."
Evander leaned against the counter, a casual smile playing at his lips. "This is Amaris," he said smoothly, his gaze briefly lingering on me. "She's the King's new handmaiden, though I'd say she's far too beautiful for such a title."
My cheeks flushed a deep crimson at the compliment. I looked down at my feet, suddenly feeling very small under the barkeep's scrutiny. The room had grown quiet, and I could feel the weight of every gaze on me. I wasn't used to being introduced like this. At the brothel, I was invisible, just a girl serving a purpose. Here, in front of these people, I was something else entirely.
The barkeep chuckled, pouring us both a drink. "A handmaiden, eh? Well, the King's a lucky man then, isn't he?"
Evander took the drink with a nod and leaned closer to me, his voice low and warm. "Drink up, Amaris. It'll help with the nerves."
I took a sip, the rich, spiced ale warming my insides, though it didn't do much to ease the tension still humming under my skin. Evander, however, seemed completely at ease, his smile never faltering as he turned back to the barkeep.
"I've been hearing rumors," Evander said, his tone growing more serious. "About the town. About Quellin."
A silence fell over the room. The barkeep's hands stilled as he wiped a glass with a cloth, and the few patrons nearest to us shifted uncomfortably. Finally, the old man from the corner spoke up, his voice gravelly with age.
"There's talk," he admitted. "Rumblings, more like. Some of the villagers… well, they don't take kindly to Quellin. They think he—"
"They think he killed King Jezza," Elra finished quietly, her eyes darting to Evander with uncertainty. "People are scared, your highness. They're afraid of what Quellin might do next."
I held my breath, wondering how Evander would respond. Surely, he knew about the rumors swirling around his brother. Everyone did. But I hadn't expected them to be so open with him about it.
"And what would they have instead?" Evander asked, his voice calm, though his eyes scanned the room intently. "Another war? Another uprising?"
A heavy pause followed his words before Erwin spoke again, his voice low. "Most would rather see you on the throne, your highness."
The words hung in the air like a challenge. My heart raced, waiting for Evander's response. I glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes.
He smiled gently, shaking his head. "I'm flattered, truly. But an uprising would only lead to chaos and bloodshed. Quellin is the king, and the kingdom cannot afford more unrest. But… if there's something that can be done to improve morale, I'd like to help."
The barkeep scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, back when King Jezza ruled, he'd throw a circus every winter—fire-eaters, musicians, jugglers, the whole lot. And free wine. Plenty of wine, cakes, and delicacies. It was something to look forward to, especially when the cold set in."
A few heads nodded in agreement, murmurs of approval filling the room.
Evander leaned back, thoughtful. "A circus, you say? To distract the people from the coming winter?"
"It's not just the winter, your highness," Elra chimed in. "It's the fear. People need something to hold on to, something to remind them of better times."
He smiled again, this time with more determination. "I'll bring it up to the council. Perhaps a festival is just what the kingdom needs."
The mood in the tavern lightened once more, the tension easing as people resumed their conversations. After a while, Evander turned to me, his hand brushing mine. "It's getting late. We should head back."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and followed him out to his horse. He mounted with the same graceful ease, then extended his hand to me. I took it, and he hoisted me up behind him.
The ride back was quiet, the world dimming as the sun sank behind the hills. The steady rhythm of the horse's hooves and the warmth of Evander's body lulled me into a state of comfort I hadn't felt in so long. My arms wrapped around his waist, and I pressed against him, closing my eyes. His scent—leather, pine, and something else distinctly him—was intoxicating. For a moment, I let myself forget everything: Quellin, the villagers, the uncertainty of my future. For now, there was only this moment, only the warmth of Evander and the steady beat of the horse beneath us.
I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up in my own quarters. The room was dim, only a faint glow from the hearth casting shadows on the stone walls. I blinked, groggy and disoriented. He must have carried me to bed.
I sighed, sinking deeper into the soft blankets, the memory of the ride still fresh in my mind. Part of me wished Evander had stayed. Another part of me—one I didn't want to admit—wished he were king instead.
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