* * *
The argument ended when John casually added, “We heard the ship was hiring consorts headed to the North, so we managed to get aboard.”
“What? Consorts? You? John?”
“Not me! How could I possibly… I borrowed a maid’s dress and had John wear it. They let us on, thinking he was a consort. I snuck on behind him.”
Edward’s tone turned smug, as if this feat demonstrated his exceptional skills.
“Doesn’t this show I’d excel in covert operations during war?”
“Why didn’t you disembark…? Wait, hold on. You snuck on?”
“How many times must I explain it?”
Edward pouted, his lips pushing out in irritation.
John shook his head, exasperated.
“Not quite. I told them we came together, with a letter of recommendation from the tavern,” John muttered, brushing Edward’s shoulder.
The gesture might’ve seemed like he was dusting off debris, but it was clearly a signal to keep quiet.
Edward coughed awkwardly.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Nael.”
John pushed Edward aside and grasped Nael’s shoulders firmly.
“Are you really okay? They say the Grand Duke is terrifying—strict, violent, like the baron. He doesn’t hit you, yell at you, or throw things, does he?”
“John…”
Nael was flustered, glancing between the two.
John’s grip tightened, making Nael wince in pain.
Only when Nael rested a hand on John’s tense hand did he seem to relax, letting out a long sigh and stepping back.
Nael took a shaky breath, suppressing the nausea brought on by the stench.
Compared to the opulent comfort of the Grand Duke’s quarters, this place felt like hell.
The air was damp and thick with salt, sticking to his skin.
John scratched his head.
“Anyway, on this ship, the consorts come back completely wrecked after going out. It’s horrifying. We’re lucky we weren’t chosen. Nael, you should’ve seen it. They could barely walk, their legs like jelly. I wouldn’t do that for a handful of coins. That’s why we’re hiding here.”
Nael pressed his temples, a dull throb forming.
Should he tell Kilian about them?
But if he did, what would become of them?
They were fugitives, after all.
Four wide, innocent eyes stared at him, as if awaiting his decision.
John broke the silence.
“From the looks of your clothes, the Grand Duke must value you a lot.”
“…”
“Could you… perhaps… grant me this favor…?”
Edward’s words faltered as he retched.
Nael feared that if he lingered here any longer, he might end up gripping the wall and vomiting just like Edward.
And if he did, it wouldn’t be surprising if Killian’s cloudy semen spilled out along with it.
John patted Edward on the back and spoke with irritation.
“That’s why I said we shouldn’t board this ship.”
“Quiet.”
“Nael, how long will it take? Until we reach the North?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that we’ll pass through the North and head East.”
Nael repeated what Ren had previously told him.
At the mention of the East, Edward’s eyes lit up with sharp clarity, glowing like a cat’s in the dark corridor.
“Oh, the East, huh?”
Nael wondered what was on Edward’s mind, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it.
He needed to leave.
His growing anxiety kept drawing his gaze toward the staircase.
“Stay hidden, both of you.”
Nael asked one last crucial question.
“What’s on this floor?”
“Further inside, there’s the cargo hold, and a storage room for His Grace’s wine. I had a taste yesterday—it’s quite exquisite.”
Nael barely stifled a sigh.
Edward’s frequent bouts of nausea were likely due to the alcohol.
Seasickness mixed with drinking had left his lips pale and tightly pressed.
“I need to go. If I stay away too long, Master might lose his temper.”
“Nael! Uh, sorry to ask, but next time… could you bring some food?”
“…”
Uncertain, Nael lowered his long lashes, avoiding a direct response.
Sensing his hesitation, John gave up and patted his shoulder.
“Got it. It’s fine—just go.”
“Thanks… sorry.”
Guilt weighed heavily on him.
It took some time before he could turn his back on them and leave.
As he stepped away, a creaking sound echoed—someone was coming down the stairs.
Quick, deliberate steps. Too fast to hide.
Nael froze, missing his chance to react.
He’d been caught.
‘What should I do?’
“Nael! Here you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“Ah… Ren.”
“You’ll get filthy here. Let’s go. You shouldn’t be walking on that injured foot.”
Ren extended a hand to Nael, signaling that he’d help him walk.
Nael hesitated but eventually took it.
Could he trust Ren?
Should he mention Edward and John?
No, Ren was one of Killian’s men.
There was no guarantee Ren’s kindness would extend to them.
Edward and John had hidden quickly, not making a sound.
“Ren, how long will it take to reach the North?”
“About a month, I’d say.”
“And from the North to the East?”
“That’ll take longer.”
Nael nodded lightly.
Knowing how long the journey would take, even approximately, gave him a small thread of hope to hold onto.
A meal far too large for one person was laid out on the table.
So this is what had kept Ren busy.
Nael hadn’t had a chance to eat or even drink water while walking around earlier, and now his stomach growled in hunger.
“This is too much.”
He stuffed a piece of freshly baked bread into his mouth, cheeks puffing out as he chewed.
“Eat as much as you like. Just don’t eat too little, or His Grace will…”
“What about Master?”
“He instructed that you must eat.”
Though the truth was more forceful—Killian had ordered that even if it meant forcing the food down Nael’s throat, he must finish it—Ren chose to keep that part to himself.
Nael, who had been looking at Ren with clear, innocent eyes, pushed a jar of preserved figs toward him.
“Ren, eat with me.”
“I have my own meals. Do servants eat with nobles in the baron’s estate?”
Ren’s curt tone made Nael shrink slightly.
He wasn’t a noble; he had lived as a mere servant.
Just a few days ago, his meals had been diluted soup and stale bread.
It was laughable how different things were now.
“Ren, I’m full. I can’t eat anymore.”
“I’ll clear the table.”
“Wait! Can you leave the bread and jam?”
Ren paused, surprised, and Nael quickly explained.
“I might get hungry later.”
Though his tone was hurried and awkward, Ren seemed to understand and set the plate back down.
“When will Master return?”
John and Edward tore the bread apart with dirty hands, smearing it with jam and chewing greedily.
Taking advantage of Killian’s absence, Nael had snuck out to give them the leftover food.
“This is delicious.”
“Enjoy it. I have to head back now.”
“Of course.”
Edward coughed and grabbed a wine bottle, gulping straight from it.
Despite John’s protests about him getting drunk, Edward claimed he needed it to soothe his throat.
It must have been from Killian’s wine stash.
Nael hesitated.
Was this okay?
But he didn’t have time to think too long.
He had to hurry back before someone noticed.
“I’m going. If Master finds out… you can’t get caught.”
“How is he treating you?”
“To be honest… it’s still hard and scary. But he let me write to my sister. That’s a relief.”
“A letter?”
Edward asked, intrigued.
“On a ship, sending letters? You don’t even know how to write, do you?”
Edward always called him “half-wit” as if it were his name.
Nael was so used to the nickname it barely registered.
“Master wrote it for me. It was just a short message tied to a crow’s leg. I really have to go now. Stay hidden.”
Edward opened his mouth as if to say something, but Nael didn’t wait.
He darted up the stairs.
The pain from his unhealed wounds shot up his legs like walking on thorns, but fear of being caught out of his room spurred him on.
If Killian discovered he’d left, he might truly be locked away this time.
He reached his room, heart pounding as he pushed the door open.
* * *
