It felt like years until the sun began to set, golden light trickling over the horizon like sand in an hour glass. It poked through the wooden bars of the carriage and made the ties shackling Myra's hands behind her back all the more infuriating. At least her friends could shield their eyes.

Infuriating. Myra had to breathe steadily – In…And out – to keep her composure. Green electricity sparked between her fingers, bouncing off the wooden carriage behind her, so she closed her eyes and continued breathing.

There was nothing stopping her from blocking the guardsmen’s path. They could try to cut down the vines Myra would grow but they wouldn't be fast enough to stop her breaking the cage open. They could take her down but they couldn't get everyone. Myra pictured Dacien and Magnolia running in the purple light of the evening, while she stayed behind in the wrath of severely pissed off guards.

She opened her dark eyes, cautiously looked at Magnolia, then Dacien, and took a peek just beyond the bars to where the guardsmen sat controlling two black horses.

“Myra,” Magnolia's sweet voice whispered. Myra couldn't bring herself to see her face. “Whatever you're thinking, don't bother. We can get you out of this. But I'm afraid that won't be possible if you upset the crown any further.”

“I'm–” Myra's face fell, chin to her chest, and she took a sharp breath, “I'm so sorry. This is all my fault and– you two shouldn't be here. This isn't your problem. You did nothing! I'm so sorry,”

Dacien tapped their feet together from across the carriage. Myra didn't look up but Dacien gave a small smile regardless. “Well, I did harbour a criminal,”

Myra pulled her head up, eyes shooting to Dacien's. But only to glare. In return, Dacien's smile grew much wider, much smugger.

“Somehow, even in this situation, you can still be remarkably annoying.” 

Magna was very quiet, but the slight ruffles of laughter shook her shoulders and pulled her cheeks. “I'm very glad you two made up.”

“Made up?!” Myra huffed, “No. Maybe we were friends again last night, but no. I take that back!” She wished she could cross her arms. At the very least, she turned her head away from them both, if only to hide the smile worming its way onto her face. 

“What?!” Dacien cried out. “Did you forget that I let you stay in my home?”

“How could I forget that psych-room of a house!”

“Psych-room?!!.... What's a psych-room?” His eyes were on Magnolia, but she could only shake her head with a curious face. 

“Not only do you only own 4 pieces of furniture, your walls have no paper, no colour. The most colourful thing about you is your clothing, which I guess sometimes might've been a given.”

“Myra, dear, maybe that is just how he prefers to live. Weird as it may be, he clearly likes it that way.” Magnolia cut into Myra's ramblings.

Dacien's face didn't change. “Hurtful…I guess I kind of see how you felt that one night, Myra..”

“There's no way any sane person likes their house that way. Though it is bland enough to make someone insane.” Myra pondered. She soon fixed her gaze back onto Dacien.

He studied her face with scrunched brows. She looked curious; she also looked like she was enjoying winding him up. Dacien supposed that was fair, after all the jokes he'd pulled on her. Alas, he relented. Sort of.

“Are you asking me something?” He began.

Myra nodded, allowing a smile to finally curl onto her cheeks. “Is there a reason? It looks like you have a reason! Why?”

“Okay…well,” Dacien shuffled on the low wooden bench, too low for his legs to rest comfortably on the floor. His knees were bent at a sharp angle in front of his chest. “You might not believe me, but I do not make all that much money working in the council building.”

“Bull. Shit!” Myra chanted with a wide jaw.

“See! It's true. I don't make much. None of us does. We have a mandated uniform of high-quality clothing, and we are to keep ourselves as well-groomed as we can to seem well taken care of.”

Magnolia stayed quiet despite the puzzled look on her face. Myra had many words she wanted to say, but settled on, “That doesn't make sense. Why would you need to seem well taken care of? And how else would you afford your fancy clothing?”

Dacien's eyes fell to his sleeves, the ends barely poking out under the cream ties of his shackles. “We all thought it was normal at first, until we experienced the workload and the importance his has keeping the town running. So we asked, or more like rallied, for higher pay. They would never give us higher pay because they cannot afford to pay us higher pay. Our town is…not doing well financially. It's not permanent– that's why we were sworn to secrecy! So we don't cause panic over something that will be fixed.”

“So…they made all of the council workers do what? Pretend to be wealthy? To keep up appearances?? With your own money?!?”

Dacien gave a curt nod.

“I still don't understand.” Myra shook her head.

Magnolia took a low breath. “That explains so much,” she muttered.

The carriage came to a sudden halt, silencing the three in turn. They each listened to the crunch of boots hitting gravel, and they looked through the bars into the black of the night.

Myra could make out a hostel nearby, just a small cabin not far from the trail they rode upon. It looked empty, until one guard made his way through the door.

The second guard began tying the horses to a small, half-stable just outside. When he was done, he slowly approached the cage. 

“You three sure don't stop your talking. Please get the rest of it out tonight while we're not here to get a headache.” He grumbled and rubbed his head. “We're taking a rest. See you in 4 hours.” He smiled, tight and bellicose. He didn't stick around.

Myra slouched, stretching her legs as much as she could without imposing on Dacien's space too much. “What if I–”

“No.” Magnolia shook her head lightly. “We're staying right here until we reach the capital. I will not allow anyone to make this worse.”

“I doubt it can get worse.” Myra muttered.

“It will be okay. I do have a plan, you know.” Magna shared a smug grin, her eyes glinting like the stars.

Maybe it was illogical, but Myra couldn't help but put faith in her most loyal customer, her closest friend.