The carriage rumbled, moving faster than it ever had, cobblestones trembling under its wheels and pebbles shooting away from it.

It was different from Lucian's — smaller, made from darker wood. Blue velvet curtains covered the side windows, and a pleasant scent of lavender filled it. The ceiling was scattered with small hand-painted stars, all in different shapes, mimicking a night sky. Somehow, it felt warmer, more comforting. And yet, it was not enough to ease the tension inside of it.

Silas sat quietly, head hanging low, too heavy with jumbled thoughts for his neck to be able to hold it properly. His hands were clasped together, nails digging into the skin, breaking the surface and drawing droplets of blood. He was disappointed, furious with himself. Furious for allowing his body to fail him, for showing any sign of weakness in front of such people. Furious at his mind for betraying him.

His teeth sank into his bottom lip, chewing it relentlessly. Perhaps it was not so bad. After all, his injuries were not yet healed. Perhaps, he could just disregard it as an unfortunate accident, and sell it to the Prince as such — but deep down, he knew far too well that that had not been the case.

"Is the floor amusing to you?"

Lucian was sitting in front of him, a cane sporting a big sapphire gemstone resting at the top held tight in his hand. His voice was flat, with no trace of emotion in it, nothing for Silas to try and grasp. The usual mocking tone of his words, gone.

The boy inhaled, his lungs threatening to burst, before raising his gaze to meet that of the Prince from under furrowed brows.

"Where are we headed?"

"We shall talk about that later. I'd rather discuss what happened yesterday." Lucian's eyes were fixed on him, two narrow paper cuts on his porcelain skin, following his every move.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Nothing happened yesterday. I simply fainted. Is that a crime?"

As usual, Silas' tongue was sharp and cutting, fending for itself against the world around him. The Prince pursed his lips for a split second, a sigh barely held in. He knew him to be akin to a feral animal, and that was something he admired — even looked for. It was what had drawn him to this strange boy. But they were already too deep into this absurd plan of his to allow such behaviour to get in the way.

"Of course not. But is that all it was?"

"Yes. I just needed more rest than I thought. I'm fine."

Lucian nodded, before turning his head and exchanging a quick glance with Riven, who had been silent the entire ride. His face was covered by a thin veil of concern, stuck in the wrinkles between his eyebrows. The servant scratched at his neck, before finally opening his mouth.

"Well... You were talking. In your sleep."

A pause. The sound of Silas' heartbeat stopping abruptly, and the gates that were so desperately trying to hold the flood of his own thoughts breaking open. He couldn't control it — his leg, as it began shaking up and down, thumping on the carriage floor.

Stay calm.

"So? I happen to talk in my sleep at times. Perhaps I was having an unpleasant dream."

His eyes darted from the Prince to Riven, desperate to catch any sign that they might have heard too much.

He already knew something was wrong. He had realized it that morning — as he had woken up curled in those satin bedsheets once again, it had been the sight of Riven to greet him. Sitting beside him on a wooden stool, scanning his body and face as if looking for something.

When he had realized that Silas had finally regained consciousness after a whole night, he had sighed in relief, before standing up and grabbing some clothes from the couch. There was no sign of Lucian.

"What..."

"You fainted. Are you feeling better?"

Silas had straightened up, his fingers finding his forehead and pressing on it, trying to stop the throbbing pain. "Yes, I think so."

"Good, I am happy to hear. Please wear these clothes and get ready. The Master is having breakfast with his family, and after he returns, we will depart." He was talking fast, almost tripping on his own words, clearly rushing.

"Where are we going?"

Riven had slowed down for just a moment, enough to steal a glance at him. "Master Lucian will let you know once we leave. Please just get dressed."

Silas had yet to see him so rattled in the short time he had come to know him. It was clear there was something he was refusing to say.

And now, he finally understood why.

The sunlight coming from outside the carriage had gradually begun to shift, giving way to the purple hues of nighttime, casting shadows on the three of them. He wasn't ready to talk. He wasn't ready to dig into the pile of memories that had become of his past, cast aside in the deepest corner of his mind. And he certainly was not ready to share it with the Prince of all people.

But perhaps he no longer had a choice. And for some reason, that pained him more than everything else that had happened. The man he was currently was the one that had agreed to be married off to a Royal. The one that would have to be forced into pretending to be a Princess. The one that was going to train in manners and other useless subjects. He had control over that at least — over who he was in the present moment, and how he was going to carry himself.

But the boy he had been was different. That was not something he was willing to show anyone.

Lucian observed him for a bit longer. He saw the drop of blood falling from his hand to his feet. The mark left by his teeth on his bottom lip. The hatred burning in the depth of his eyes.

And finally, he let go of the sigh he had been holding.

"Stop shaking like a wet puppy. You are making it seem as if I'm some big scary monster." He waved his cane around a little, almost hitting the boy in the shins. "Keep your secrets if you please, they do not concern me. For now."

Silas' shoulders dropped, the tension dissipating from them slightly. Of course, he had been overestimating himself. Overestimating the relevance of his past in the Prince's eyes. And he had never been more grateful for a nobleman to dismiss him. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure.

"Will you tell me where we are headed now, your Highness?"

With the sour note of irreverence now back in his voice, Lucian smirked, cocking his head — a small, imperceptible smile dancing at the corner of his lips. One that Silas did not notice.

"I have come to the conclusion that it is too dangerous to keep you in the Palace. Let me be very clear: I do not believe you. I do not believe that you simply fainted. And to avoid a repeat of what happened yesterday, we will be staying somewhere else for a week. You may not realize it, but it is quite hard to drag a body around without anyone noticing."

Silas rolled his eyes, but he could not disagree with the Prince. As much as it irritated him to admit it, he was not confident his body wouldn't play any cruel tricks on him again. And Lucian knew it just as well.

"Very well then. I suppose it is for the best. But where is this place you mention?"

Lucian grinned, a glint of amusement finding its way into his eyes. He clapped, the cane toppling over as Riven hurried to catch it.

"Somewhere I am quite curious to see for myself — an inn." Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt, the three of them swaying slightly. "And it appears we have arrived!"

As they stepped out of the carriage, Silas realized how dark it had become outside. He looked back, just in time to see it disappear down the road, with Riven still inside.

It was just him and the Prince now.

In front of them stood an old building, ragged and with a few spots of its wooden railing missing. There was a hand-painted sign on top of it, hanging crooked: The Golden Goose.

"Charming," Lucian muttered, pulling the hood of his robe over his head. "Shall we?"

Silas furrowed his brows, looking around: the street was empty, and it looked like they were possibly on the outer territory of the city. Not quite the slums he knew far too well, but not much above them. From the inside of the building, he could see a warm candlelight peeking out the windows, and the sound of muffled chatter. Observing more closely, he realized the inn had a room to the side that must have been a pub, with the silhouettes of a handful of patrons visible from the outside.

Suddenly, before he could notice it himself, his hand flew forward, grabbing the Prince's arm.

"Are you sure about this? Is it not absurd for Royalty to stay in a place like this?"

Lucian looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? I did not expect you of all people to make such comments. Was visiting the Palace enough to make you dislike some humble inn?"

Silas scoffed, drawing his hand back and shoving it under his own robe.

"No matter. Do as you please then." He bit the inside of his cheek, averting his gaze. There was no point in voicing any of his concerns. After all, whether the Prince's plan failed or succeeded, it was not up to him to contest his choices.

Lucian laughed, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Do not fret, I know far too well what I am doing. Just follow my lead."

And with that, he stepped forward, making sure to pull his hood down further, with Silas begrudgingly walking close behind.

As soon as they entered the inn, they were hit by a wave of warmth coming from the fireplace in the corner of the room. The inside was modest, with very few paintings hanging from the walls and a carpet sprawled on the floor, dusty and with traces of mud on it.

In front of them stood a wooden desk, with a man behind it. Silas glanced at him: he was old, the hair on his head thinning and receding, and a grey beard adorning his face.

A bell rang as the door closed after him, causing the innkeeper to look up and greet them with a crooked smile.

"Welcome to the Golden Goose!" His voice was low, with a hint of suspicion in it. It didn't take him long to understand why: it was the same in the slums as well. Customers were rare, but thieves were not. "Can I help you?"

Beside him, he felt Lucian shift, moving toward the man.

"Good evening. We'd like a room."

The innkeeper nodded, hand flying up to caress his beard. "How long would you like to stay?"

"A week."

He smiled again, clearly pleased by the answer. It was not common to have travellers stay over for more than a day, if they did stay over. Most people either avoided this side of town or were too poor to afford a bed to sleep in. The majority of the patrons in the area only had enough coins for a small amount of wine.

"Ah, I see. That would be 13 crowns then, sir—" Suddenly, he spotted Silas, standing just a few feet back, and his smile grew even wider. "Oh, apologies, I did not notice your friend back there. Will it be two rooms then?"

Silas shuffled on his feet, very quickly realizing how expensive that would be. Surely, the innkeeper had noticed the lavish fabrics of Lucian's clothes, and had raised his prices. How could he not? It was clearly the perfect opportunity. Maybe he would have done the same. And for someone as visibly wealthy as Lucian, 26 crowns would barely count as spending money — while for him, it would be impossible to scrape up that much in an entire year.

"No, just the one," Lucian said, and Silas' head shot up. One? What was he thinking?

The innkeeper scratched at his eyebrow, perplexed. Then, he looked at Lucian more closely, and his breath caught in his throat.

"You...!" Before he could finish his sentence, Lucian threw a small bag on the counter, quickly — as if he had already been preparing for that exact moment, that landed with a loud thud, spilling a few crowns in the process. The innkeeper's eyes widened, shifting quickly between the enormous amount of money and the man he had finally come to recognize as his Prince. "Your Highn—"

"I would appreciate it if you could keep your voice down." He turned around, glancing at Silas. "As you can see, I am here with a very special friend, so we will only be needing one room. I trust you can keep it a secret. I will be very generous if you do."

The innkeeper nodded — fast, so fast Silas worried he might break his neck. "Of... of course! Anything you wish for, your Highness!" His voice was but a whisper, leaning in toward Lucian conspiratorially.

Silas stood still, his mouth hanging slightly open, incredulous as he observed the scene unfolding in front of him.

Fumbling with his hands, he grabbed a key from the wall behind him, offering it to the Prince as cautiously as possible. "This is the best room we have... I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay, your Highness! Do not hesitate to call for me if you need anything!"

With that, the man bowed, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. Lucian retrieved the key, and with a smirk, he motioned for Silas to follow him.

"Let us go, my dear friend."