Fake Princess
CHAPTER 112
For most of the first day I rode with my shoulders down, surprised whenever I heard someone approaching from behind. It feels almost ridiculous that I can escape the city without any spies.
Melani might have reported it, but no one was chasing, and I started to think, this time, I was lucky, and I managed to sneak out of them.
The first night I stayed at a street-side inn after telling the owner that I was going to visit my ailing father in a town not far from the border of Saremarch. The next night, dusk fell before I arrived at the real village, so I begged to be given a place to stay for a farmer and his wife who lived on the street. They didn't have any extra rooms, they piled blankets in front of the fireplace and I slept quite soundly, and gave them a coin as I left.
On the third day, I arrived at the edge of Melani land.
Saremarch is not very large. A small farm, enough to bring in some money for the Enderson family. However, most of the area was covered in forest. Based on the map I took from the witch's campus, I saw three small hamlets scattered across the farm, forming a rough semi-circle around the only real village. March oldings, located on the edge of farmland and the beginning of the Thorvaldor forest. His village grew up around Sare Castle, where the Enderson family lived, and that was where I planned to go first.
I only needed until noon to arrive at the March Oldings. Smoke rose from the chimney, and the thin trail made my hand tremble so much that my horse swung its head and stepped to the side in confusion.
What am I gonna do? I had no real plan, I was forced to admit, other than driving to this town and starting to look for a girl my age and having a red three-point birthmark forming a triangle on her arm. I need a story, but it's Devan who can create complicated excuses when you're in a place you shouldn't be.
The calming role calls I've heard. However, for some reason, it was enough to make me press the ankle on the waist of my horse and start walking towards the March Oldings.
Upon entering the village, I thought I must have looked like a ghost riding a horse; pale and limp, with trembling arms and legs. Strange enough to make people suspicious. However, even though people glanced at me the first time they saw me, no one glanced at me the second time. There was a traveling sculptor, his chariot stopped at the center of the village, which attracted the attention of most of the villagers, the women stood checking the pots and pans, while the children ran under them. Or waiting in line while carrying items that will be repaired. I saw a small stables, paid a piece to tie my horse there and breathed a sigh of relief as the stables boy gave me an excuse.
“ Miss is from the opposite village? Did you come to see the traveling sculptor?” tanyakanya.
I hesitated.
The boy grinned revealing his rare teeth. “ She told my aunt who lives there, she said it will come this week. My aunt told you?”
Seriate