The last thing I needed was to draw the attention of Custodian's Crown Prince. Every step forward we'd taken to build our network, every secret we'd carefully guarded—all of it is now at risk because Ardias saw something in me he recognized. I can't afford to take any more chances, not when so many lives depend on our success.
As soon as we reach the next stretch of road where the terrain provides cover, I signal for Cael to slip away from the royal carriage once more. We meet in a grove of trees just off the path, where the sound of the convoy's wheels on stone is muffled by leaves and earth.
"We can't continue with this part of the plan," I say without preamble, pulling out parchment and ink from the hidden pocket of my tunic. "Ardias is too sharp—he's already suspicious of me, and if he keeps watching, he'll find out the truth eventually. I have to pull you out, and we'll drop off at the nearby village of Mear."
Cael's face falls slightly, but he nods in understanding. "I understand, Your Highness. I just wish we'd had more time to gather information from Soria."
"So do I," I reply, already writing quickly. "But caution must come first. Our alliance with Soria will still hold—Rondolf and Miolla will see to that. We just need to adjust our approach."
I write two letters—one for Vonce, one for Rondolf—each sealed with a small piece of wax I keep for emergencies.
To my brothers Vonce and Rondolf,
I am writing to inform you of an immediate change of plan. Crown Prince Ardias of Custodian has taken notice of me, and I cannot risk exposing our true intentions or endangering the convoy. Cael and I will be leaving the group at Mear village and will not continue on to Soria.
If the Crown Prince asks about my absence, please tell him that Prince Vernom suddenly fell ill and had to be taken to a trusted healer in the village. Assure him there is no cause for concern—that I am in capable hands and resting comfortably.
The rest of our plans remain in motion. Continue with the journey to Soria as scheduled. The supply routes to Meodes are still secure, and our operatives are ready to move at your signal. Do not let this setback distract you from our goal.
Stay safe, and trust no one within Custodian's party.
Your brother,
Vernom
Once the letters are sealed, I hand them to Cael. "Find a trusted guard—someone we know is loyal—and have them deliver these to Vonce and Rondolf separately. Make sure no one else sees what you're doing."
As Cael heads off to carry out his task, I begin writing a third letter—this one for Father back in Callibean. It will need to be sent by eagle to reach him quickly, so I keep it concise but thorough.
To His Majesty King Theron,
I write to you from the road to Soria with news of a change in my plans. I have drawn the attention of Crown Prince Ardias, who has expressed familiarity with me and made efforts to recruit me to his service. To avoid compromising our operations or putting our allies at risk, Cael and I have decided to leave the convoy and lay low in Mear village.
Please know that this does not affect our broader strategy—all arrangements for the supply lines to Meodes, the training of their forces, and the alliance with Soria will proceed as we planned. Rondolf and Vonce have been informed and will oversee these matters in my absence.
I will remain in contact through secure channels and will continue gathering intelligence from the villages along the border. The time to reveal ourselves to Custodian is not yet come, and I will do everything in my power to ensure our preparations are complete when that day arrives.
Do not worry for my safety—I am well-protected and moving carefully. Our cause is strong, and we will see it through.
Your son,
Vernom
I roll up the letter and tie it securely to the leg of a messenger eagle we'd brought along for urgent communications. As I release the bird into the sky, watching it soar toward Callibean, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. Father will understand—he's always known that flexibility is key to any good plan.
Cael returns a short time later, nodding to confirm the letters have been delivered safely. "They understand, Your Highness. Prince Vonce says he'll make sure the story about your illness sounds convincing—he's already speaking with the healer who travels with the convoy to prepare her."
"Good," I say, gathering our few belongings. "We'll wait until the convoy stops for the midday meal before making our move. The bustle will help us slip away unnoticed."
As we make our way back toward the group, I cast one last look at Custodian's carriages in the distance. Ardias is probably still watching, still wondering about the servant who refused his offer. But soon he'll hear that Prince Vernom has fallen ill and left the convoy—and his attention will turn elsewhere.
For now, we must be patient. We must lay low, keep gathering information, and prepare for the day when we can face Custodian not as hidden spies, but as united kingdoms ready to build a better future. The road ahead may have changed, but our destination remains the same.
I felt like I'd dodged a bullet when we finally parted ways from the convoy. As we watched the long line of carriages and wagons disappear around the bend in the road, heading toward Soria without us, a wave of relief washed over me—so strong I had to steady myself against a tree.
"Are you alright, Your Highness?" Cael asks, looking at me with concern as he adjusts the small pack on his back. "You look like you've been holding your breath for days."
"I suppose I have," I admit, letting out a long exhale I didn't realize I'd been keeping in. "Every moment we were near Ardias, I felt like I was walking on thin ice over deep water. One wrong step… and everything would have come crashing down."
"I think we should really call a healer after we settle in Mear," Cael said. His voice was firm, and I could tell he wasn't just thinking about maintaining our cover—he genuinely worried about how much stress I'd been under. I just nod in agreement, knowing it was the right move both for our safety and for my own well-being.
We make our way toward Mear village, following a narrow path through the woods that only locals would know about. The trees are thick here, their branches weaving together to create a canopy that blocks out most of the sun. It's quiet—far quieter than the constant noise of the convoy—and the only sounds are birds singing and our footsteps crunching on fallen leaves. The peace of this place seeps into my bones, a welcome contrast to the tension that's been coiled in my shoulders since we left Callibean.
"I've never been so glad to be away from royalty and politics," Cael says with a small laugh, stopping to splash water on his face from a clear stream we pass. "Though I'll admit… playing prince wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Some of the nobles actually listened when I spoke about your agricultural plans. Princess Miolla's father even asked for copies of your notes on crop rotation."
I grin, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. "I told you confidence was key. And besides—those plans are good ones. People are bound to listen when you're talking about helping them grow more food and feed their families. Even nobles understand that a well-fed people are less likely to rise up against their rulers."
As we emerge from the woods, Mear village comes into view—a small cluster of stone houses and wooden shops built around a central square. Smoke rises from chimneys, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and baking bread, and we can hear the sound of children playing in the streets. It's the kind of peaceful place that Custodian's armies would probably overlook—too small to be worth conquering, too remote to matter in their grand plans for expansion. Exactly what we need right now.
We make our way to a small inn on the edge of the square, run by a woman named Marta who our network has identified as trustworthy. She'd been helping smuggle supplies to families affected by Custodian's taxes for years, never asking for anything in return. When we enter, she looks up from wiping down the bar, her eyes meeting mine for just a moment—there's a flash of recognition before she turns her attention to Cael.
"Welcome, travelers," she says warmly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by the few other patrons—farmers by the look of them, gathered around a table sharing a pitcher of ale. "We've got two rooms available upstairs—clean beds, warm food, and plenty of hot water for washing. You've come at a good time; I just pulled fresh bread from the oven."
"I'll take them," Cael says, pulling out a small pouch of coins. He counts out the payment carefully, making sure to use common currency that wouldn't draw attention. "We've been traveling for days, and my master here isn't feeling well. The road dust and sun have been hard on him."
Marta nods, her gaze flicking to me again—she's already been told what to expect, what story to tell if anyone asks. "I'll have some soup and bread sent up right away. And I know a healer in the village who can come take a look at him, if you'd like. She's very good with fevers and exhaustion—sees a lot of it this time of year."
"That would be much appreciated," I say, keeping my voice quiet and letting my shoulders slump slightly to play the part of a sick man. I even press a hand to my forehead for good measure, making sure to look pale and worn out.
Once we're settled in our rooms—small but clean, with straw mattresses that look comfortable enough—I collapse into one of the beds, closing my eyes for a moment. It's been so long since I've felt truly safe that the sensation is almost foreign. Cael busies himself with opening the window to let in fresh air, then moves to pour water from a pitcher into a basin for washing.
A short while later, Marta brings up our meal—bowls of hearty vegetable soup, thick slices of warm bread, and a small wedge of cheese. Tucked under the bread basket is a folded piece of parchment, sealed with wax that bears no mark. I unfold it after she leaves, finding a message written in neat, small handwriting from one of our operatives traveling with the convoy:
All is well with the convoy. Crown Prince Ardias asked about Prince Vernom within the hour of your departure—was told you'd fallen ill with a fever and been left in trusted hands to recover. He seemed satisfied, though his eyes narrowed when he heard the news. His men have already been asking questions in nearby villages, so be careful who you speak to here. The healer who will visit is one of us—her name is Tarrama, and she'll help you maintain your cover while bringing any news from the border. Meodes reports their forces are ready, but Custodian's armies are moving faster than expected.
I let out another breath of relief, folding the letter carefully and tucking it into my tunic. We really had dodged a bullet this time. If we'd stayed with the convoy, it was only a matter of time before Ardias's suspicions grew too strong—he was the kind of man who didn't let mysteries go unsolved. Here, in this quiet village, we can lay low, continue gathering information, and wait for the right moment to make our next move.
Cael sits down across from me at the small table, pulling a bowl of soup toward himself and blowing on it to cool it down. "What now, Your Highness? Do we stay here until the wedding in Soria is over? Or do we try to make our way to Meodes?"
"Now," I say, smiling for the first time since we left Callibean—genuine and warm, not the practiced expression I'd worn for the wedding guests. "We wait. We watch. We help where we can—this village probably has its own troubles with Custodian's taxes and scouts. And we make sure that when the time comes to act, we're ready. Because Ardias may think he's won this round—may think he's scared us off, made us run and hide—but he has no idea what's coming."