I didn't want to ask what it said; I was much too disgusted already.

My eyes followed him as Reynard placed the letter on a haystack by the blood spill and then carefully stepped over the splashes as he approached me.

"What happens now?" I whispered, my eyes occasionally going towards the large doors, checking if anyone had sneaked up on us. Though it seemed that no one was in here but us.

"Now," Reynard said confidently, "we leave through the back door and never talk of this again."

So we did. Reynard guided me towards the back of the warehouse where there was, in fact, another door through which we slipped out like fugitives.

"Reynard, I can't go back to Faustine's now," I said when we were away from the eyes of the watchful guards. "Wherever else should I stay?"

Reynard scratched his head in deep thought and pulled out the familiar piece of paper.

"Okay, let's refer to the list," he said as he pulled it out from his pocket. "We can make do with this second inn for a while if you want. Ogden Cove. It's a bit farther from my house compared to where you were staying previously, but anything for Her Royal Highness, no?"

I swatted at him, though only playfully.

"Who runs Ogden Cove?" I asked when we were walking again.

My eyes were strictly on the street though there wasn't much need because there were barely any people here. All around us were large, towering houses made of wood and stone.

"Ogden Cove is owned by Mama Ruth. You're not gonna like her."

I looked at him, confused. "Why would you say that?"

He matched my stare. "What?"

"Because, like," I tried to make sense of my words, "when you introduce someone to someone else, you always say stuff like, 'you'll absolutely love her!' or 'both of you are going to get on great!' So why would you go and say that I won't like her?"

Reynard thought about that for a second.

"Because..." He made a rotating gesture with his hands, an indication that he was still under the thought process. His dark eyebrows were furrowed. "If I say that you'll love her, I'd be gratuitously raising your expectations. Then when you'll meet her and you'll realize that she's not all that good and I had been clearly raising your hopes and you'll hate her as well as me. So it's better to keep the expectations below the bar. That way, you won't dislike her more than you already do."

✿

Reynard hailed a passing-by wagon to take us to Ogden Cove. It was quite similar to my ride in the royal carriage, with all the bumps and shakes, but this time we were exposed to the open.

I looked on with my partial vision due to the fact that I was covering my face with the cloth Reynard had provided me with and enjoyed the mid-day breeze on my face.

I blocked out all my thoughts in an attempt to suppress the fear that we had just set up a scene for my supposed death. Every time I thought about the sight of blood, I wanted to hurl. The fact that we were on a vibrating wagon didn't make it any better.

After 15 minutes of driving, the wagon came to a sudden stop.

"A'right, y'all get off 'ere," said the one-toothed wagon driver, glancing over his shoulder at his two passengers. He either had a horrible sore throat or he deliberately put on an excellent Al Pacino impression.

Reynard handed the man a few copper coins (I'm not a telepathic; I don't know how many) and helped me get off the rather high-raised carriage. Soon, I heard the wagon clip-clop away behind us.

We looked around at where we had just been dropped off. Judging from his face, Reynard didn't seem too pleased.

"Dammit," he muttered. "He didn't even drop us off at the right location. Come, Your Highness, let us locate the Cove ourselves."

I frowned. Still, any shelter was better than none.

Reynard and I started moving ahead, our eyes darting from face to face on the narrow street, looking for any guards. Thankfully, there weren't many faces to scan and soon we realized that the guards hadn't come out so far. Yet.

Much to my disappointment, Reynard didn't seem to know his way around the area. For a while, he scratched his chin while we winded through turns, looking at signs, trying to find the one that said 'Ogden Cove'. For quite a while, we failed to find our desired location.

"Should we ask someone for directions?" I suggested after we had completely surveyed the area once. "Maybe we missed it."

Reynard nodded. "Sheer pride didn't let me take that route as of yet," he muttered, though under his breath. "But I think we should. Stay here, Your Highness."

I leaned my shoulder against a wall to my side, fingering the chipping concrete near the many cracks as Reynard strolled away. The fake death setup was still boggling my mind.

What if someone had seen us sneak into the warehouse? What if the guards saw through our façade? There were so many holes in our plan...enough to keep me awake at night.

I was still worrying over things when Reynard came back, a grin on his face.

"It's just a couple streets away," he said happily, his black hair bouncing as he approached me. "Well, it is... if that old woman was right."

I nodded as I stood upright. "That's good enough. Let us make haste."

In no time, we had moved over a couple streets, a street we had just crossed.

"It's this one right here," Reynard muttered, his eyes scanning a bland building with one door and no sign. "It seems that Mama Ruth took off her sign for some reason. Anyways, let's go in!"

Slowly, Reynard eased back the narrow door which creaked quite loudly and we were met by….nothingness. It was nothing at all like The Longing Table which had been rather warm, golden and comfy.

"Are you sure this is it?" I whispered, trying to look for objects in the dark.

Reynard shrugged. "I've only met Mama Ruth in the Market. This is the first time I've visited her inn, so I'm not quite the right person to ask."

I scoffed and rapped loudly on the door. "Mama Ruth," I called in absent-mindedly. "You've got customers."

For a few minutes, there was nothing.

"Mama Ru-"

"Aw, shaddap y'all," came a voice from somewhere deep inside the darkness.

Reynard and I froze. Had that just been a woman speaking? I couldn't tell because the voice had been so deep, like it had gone through several voice changers in a production studio- cranky and unnatural.

"What'cha want?" said the same person again, a sign of annoyance in the voice. "Ruinin' my beauty sleep like you're all that. Whoozit?"

Emerged from the gloomy darkness came a short woman wrapped in a navy blue shawl and a matching head-wrap with patterns all over. She looked more like a fortune-teller than any fortune-teller I had ever seen. Though she was not a fortune-teller; she was the inn-keeper.

"Ah," she muttered, squinting up, first at me, then Reynard. "Rainy, my boy. Howya' doin'? How's yer momma?"

Reynard smiled uncomfortably. "Mother's alright, Mama Ruth. How're your legs?"

"Oof," she muttered as she turned around and walked back hobbled back into the darkness. "I'd be better off without 'em and there's not a word of lie in it. Follow me in, tots."

The tots- us- followed her into the room and the door automatically shut behind us, as if by magic. But once we were inside and my eyes began adjusting to the limited light, I saw a tall silhouette standing by the door which shuffled away, walking with lanky, robotic strides. I gulped.

Mama Ruth lit up a short waxed candle on a hand-held candle holder and faced us, her face lit eerily from below. Only that was when I noticed that her face was covered with wrinkles and a long scar ran down the length of her left cheek.

She was old enough to be Faustine's mother, I thought but quickly dismissed it.

"So, Mama Ruth," Reynard said. I yelped, for I had no idea how close he was. His voice came from right beside me and it bounced off the walls- dark, like our surroundings. "What've you been up to?"

Mama Ruth squinted at Reynard and picked up some specs from the same table which once held the candle and slipped them on. "Ah, that's better," she muttered. "I've been enjoying my days as a retired hag, child. What do you think?"

Reynard had been looking around the room but he turned back to her and frowned when he heard that. "You retired? Why?"

Mama Ruth started walking again, though not quick enough for me not to catch her rolling her eyes.

"Y'know that old man on the other side of the street? Whatwashisname, Cliff something? He opened an inn and took along with him all my customers. The fancy shmancy place he's got, too, with the thick duvets and whatnot. I vowed that if I ever see him in the street, I'd clock him in the head. Hopefully, that'll kill him and all my people will come back."

Reynard chuckled as we followed her through a dark corridor and stopped at a door.

"So that's why you retired?" He smiled.

"You bet I did!" Mama Ruth spat. "I've got something y'all call dignity. I wasn't gonna sit there and let him laugh at my helplessness. So I took off my board and holed up here with Sven. He's such a help, God bless 'im."

I opened my mouth to ask who Sven was but shut up when I was reminded of the dark figure by the door. Reynard still asked, though.

"Who's Sven?" he asked, tilting his head and scowling.

Mama Ruth opened a door and let us through. We were instantly met by instant glints from all directions and it was a full minute before I realized that we were in a room with tinkering decorations all over and everywhere. A room fit for a fortune-teller indeed.

"Do ya sweep my house?" she asked as she went and buried herself in a great patterned armchair right in the middle of the room.

Reynard looked confused as he picked on a tapestry next to him. "No?"

"Then I'm not telling ya' who the f*ck Sven is."