Nine: Sneaking Around 

When they land rather ungracefully at the bottom of the cliff, Everett is fuming. He stands up, brushing off his garbs and crossing his arms at Floryn, who is still spread out awkwardly on the floor. A drip of fresh, bright red blood mixes with his dark eyebrow.  

“You could have given me a heads-up, you know!” The prince snaps. “I am quite tired of falling. Windows, hills, what’s next? I cannot wait to find out!” 

“I did not have many options, my prince. I did what I could.” Floryn says calmly back, reaching for his hood which Everett returns, slinging it off his own body and throwing it on top of the assassin.  

This is when he remembers his own suspicion about Floryn. He deems it necessary then while his hood is off, that he must check Floryn’s ears to see if they are rounded or pointed. So, he lowers himself into a crouch, trying his best to see what is hidden to him by Floryn’s light brown, long hair.  

Floryn shoots him a questioning glance.  

“What are you doing now?”  

“Nothing.” Everett tells him, but Floryn hardly looked convinced. “You have blood on your face.”  

Floryn draws up his fingers, swiping at the blood that had seeped into his eyebrow hair. He glares at it on his fingertips, drawing up his sleeve to wipe the remaining blood off. He gets to his feet, covering his head and tying the robe back tight against his chest. 

When Everett keeps staring, Floryn quirks a brow. 

“Did I get all of it?”  

Everett tilts his head in a way Floryn cannot help but find adorable.  

“What?” He asks.  

“The blood. You’re staring.” Floryn explains, his taunting smirk returning. “Is it still on my face, or do you stare simply because you like what you see?”  

The prince turns around immediately, facing the Noble’s District. He crosses his arms in defiance and lets out a sharp breath of air. Ears burning red, embarrassment flushes throughout his body, primarily his stomach; a pit that was growing heavier and more intense the longer he talked to Floryn.  

“You’re just as obnoxious as I remember you being, congratulations.” He hisses at the assassin. Floryn cannot hold in his chuckle, earning a bruising glare over the prince’s shoulder.  

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ 

When they reach the front gate of the Noble’s District, Floryn motions for Everett to follow him off to the side so they can speak without the public hearing them. He picks a short, thick fir tree which covers them from the nobility walking about the plaza.  

“What is it?” Everett asks, grimacing when Floryn spends around a minute more ignoring him, making sure they are not being watched.  

The prince blushes bright red at his next words: 

“Take off your robes.”  

“Excuse me?!” He snaps, and Floryn lets out a groan.  

“Your royal garbs; they are too recognizable.”  

Reluctantly, Everett shed his garbs to the ground, eyeing them sadly when they had to walk away. They were expensive and tailored just for him. Luckily, it was not his favorite pair. His favorite was an all-white garb with light blue accents, a perfect match to his own eyes. It embodied his very essence, and he would feel horrible to have to part with them.  

It’s then he realizes that by choosing to leave the castle, he had already parted with them, anyways. 

They return to the gate, nodding cordially at the guards on either side of them.  

The Noble’s District was beautiful with pebbled streets and intricate stone fountains on every square. There were tall streetlamps and flora at every turn. It was hardly littered, and people strolled the streets with leisure, mostly men. Everett saw plenty of women in the windows of the townhouses, setting out baked goods and hanging up wet laundry.  

“Have you never seen the Noble’s District?” Floryn asks when he takes in Everett’s evident admiration.  

“Never this closely. Only from the window in my room.”  

Floryn clicks his tongue in agitation. The assassin could not say he liked or favored royals, but especially not the treatment of their children. He had heard the stories of the prince, the stories of his childhood and what he was allowed to and not allowed to do. Things like that spread in his village like common gossip, but to the prince, it was his real life.  

“It is your future kingdom. I do not understand the limitations your father puts on you.” Floryn says as they pass the town plaza that is buzzing with activity. The assassin noticed a few confused glances shot their way, but none seemed to realize the prince walked among them just yet, and he wished for the prince to enjoy the feeling of being unknown and free for as long as it could be done.  

Everett opens like a book.  

“It is because of my blood.” He tells the assassin, turning a street corner. “I am not born to the current queen, and so he does not trust me. In his eyes, I killed my mother on purpose, and when something is wrong, it is always the fault of me.”  

Floryn’s hands clench into fists as his side.  

“How cruel.” 

They reach the end of the Noble’s District, and Everett gets a first look at the scattered villages and vast countryside before him. The hills roll beautifully, and cows and sheep munch on long grass in chicken-wire pens. Flowers bloom in clusters, trees sprout skinny and thick with all different kinds of leaves. The path down the hill is worn, and the mountain is easiest to see from here, peaked with white of snow and ragged with broken rocks. A canvas stood before him with shades of green, grey, blue, white, red, and orange.  

Everett stands there for a long time, his hands snaking to his waist. His pupils constricting to take all the light in at once. It was all too much to see; how would he be able to remember all of it? 

“This is Aramore.” Floryn says, pointing at the farmlands. “The village in which I live is further down the road.”  

“Are we going there, to your home?”  

Floryn nods once, and Everett shows him an appreciative smile. 

The walk down the road is boring for the most part, Everett finds himself quiet, trying to take every sight and smell in. Though when they walk by the cow pastures, he holds his breath. He never knew livestock would be so smelly! 

When they reach a small farmer’s market, Floryn catches sight of a silver-armored guard riding on a chestnut horse, approaching behind them. The clops of the horse’s hooves spike his heart rate, and he grabs Everett by the wrist, shoving him behind the fruit stall. Everett lets out a little grunt, and they fall and tangle into a mess of limbs and heaving breaths.  

“What’s happening...?” Everett mumbles. 

“Shh.” Floryn tells him, twisting his head back to search for the guard. The horse slows down at the stall, and the guard speaks to the man running it.  

“Hello, good Sir.” The guard says, bowing his head in respect. “Have you seen Prince Everett come this way?”  

The man at the stand shakes his head.  

“I do not know what he looks like, Sir.”  

“Blonde hair, blue-green eyes, fair skin. He is likely wearing royal garbs. We suspect he went this way.”  

Everett hears the guard describe him and curses softly to himself.  

“Actually, Sir. I might have just seen him...” The man says.  

Floryn urges them both to crawl to the back of the stall, so they do, in the deep brown mud. They could not hear the guard from behind the stall, and when they deemed it safe enough to stand, they sprinted for the next building and the next. Until they were, once again, out of eyesight.