Gwenna forced a smile, stepping back, but the woman’s grip on her arms remained firm.
“Are you all right?” the innkeeper’s wife asked, eyes narrowing. “You look pale as a ghost.”
Gwenna swallowed, shaking her head. “I’m fine, truly. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”
The woman frowned. “You know... now that I get a proper look at you, you do seem familiar. Have we met before?”
A bolt of panic lanced through Gwenna. She forced a breathless little laugh, the kind meant to brush things off, to make people stop looking. “Oh, maybe. I come to the village now and then, but I don’t live here. Probably just one of those familiar faces.”
The innkeeper’s wife didn’t look convinced.
“No, I know I’ve seen you before,” she mused, her gaze sharpening. Then, her attention drifted toward the young men still gawking at the wanted poster.
Gwenna’s heart slammed against her ribs. No, no, no, you are not about to put this together right in front of me.
She needed to end this. Now.
“I’m sorry,” she said, layering her voice with feigned embarrassment. “But I really must be going. My husband will wonder where I am.”
Before the woman could respond, Gwenna twisted free, slipping into the crowd. Her heart thundered as she forced herself not to run. Running drew attention. Running made people chase.
She was nearly at the edge of the village when another problem presented itself. She hadn’t eaten.
Gwenna could push through on sheer willpower, sure, but collapsing from hunger halfway back to the outpost was not a risk she was willing to take.
The market was too exposed now. Too bright. Too many people who might glance between her and that damned woodcut and start putting things together. But the tavern...
A slow, cunning smile curled at her lips. The tavern is always dim.
She spun on her heel and made for the squat wooden building.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ale, roasting meat, and unwashed laborers taking their midday meal. Gwenna found a seat in a shadowed corner, ordering a bread bowl of beef stew. She kept her head down, ears open, letting the flow of conversation wash over her.
And then…
“...heard there’s trouble in the capital,” a gruff voice muttered nearby. “Some knight locked up for treason, if you can believe it.”
Gwenna stilled. She nodded thanks as the server dropped off her meal, gripping the spoon so hard it bit into her fingers.
“Treason?” another voice asked. “What’d he do?”
“Don’t rightly know,” the first man replied. “But word is, it’s got something to do with the princess. You know, the one there’s a reward for now.”
A chill crawled up Gwenna’s spine. A knight. Imprisoned. For treason. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“You don’t think...” a third voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “You don’t think it could be that knight who came through here recently? The one asking all those questions?”
“Might be,” the first man mused. “Come to think of it, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since then.”
Gwenna’s hand clenched under the table. Finn. They had to be talking about Finn. Her stomach soured, the rich scent of stew suddenly sickening.
The conversation shifted, meandering to idle speculation about the reward, about whether the princess might truly be nearby. Then—worse—whether she might be hiding in the forests surrounding the village.
Gwenna forced down her food, even as their words coiled around her like a noose.
She rose, slipping toward the exit. The moment she was outside, she turned toward the trees, her mind already racing ahead.
She had the necessary information. She needed to get back to Cedric. Now.
