Page 21 of Yellow Belly

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The old couple had overestimated the time needed to get to the capital, probably because they didn’t walk very fast. In contrast, Henry almost trotted, causing Stefano’s cage to bounce against the top of his bag with every step. They reached the capital the same day they left Lonica, but it was very late at night. Poor Henry was exhausted, although he didn’t say so.

“Too late to find the princess,” he said with a sigh after they’d entered the city. “I don’t know where we’ll sleep tonight.”

Stefano wouldn’t have had any advice to share even if he could make his mouth cooperate. He felt Henry moving more slowly, his boots shuffling on cobblestones, breaking the night silence. Sometimes he paused for a moment as if trying to decide where to go, and then he’d sigh and move on.

“It’s not a very big city,” he observed after a time. “Everyone’s gone to sleep, I think. It all seems clean and orderly, though. I haven’t seen any rough neighborhoods or encountered foul smells. It might be a pleasant place to live.” He might have sounded a bit wistful, but it was hard to tell.

It probably would have been best to return to the fields outside the city and find a quiet spot to spend the night. But Henry stubbornly kept wandering around, his movements slower and slower, until Stefano expected him to collapse any moment. Croaking at him made no difference.

Just when Stefano was getting truly desperate, he heard an unfamiliar male voice. “Is something wrong, sir?” It carried a certain ring of authority that made Stefano sure the man was a guard or something similar. A night watchman, maybe.

Henry stopped walking. “I…. I’m sorry. I just arrived and it’s late and…. Is there somewhere I could find a room for the night? I have money.”

“Where are you from?” Now the voice was noticeably sharper. Most likely the man had noticed that Henry’s accent wasn’t Fraysian.

“Thanytsia, sir.”

“And what is your business here?”

Oh no. Fraysians held no love for Thanytsians—for good reason—and were likely to be suspicious of them. It was no secret that King Cyrus had set his sights on their throne.

To Stefano’s relief, Henry replied with a steady voice. The only emotion he displayed was weariness. “I’m looking for a new home. I don’t know if this city will fit, but I wanted to try. I won’t be a burden—as I said, I’ve a bit of money. And I’m willing and able to work hard.”

“Why did you leave? Are you a thief or an outlaw?”

“No, sir, I’m not. It’s only… Thanytsia held too many bad memories for me. I lost my lover. I want a fresh start away from that.”

That had a ring of truth to it, which the man must have sensed; he softened his tone. “You’re young. You’ll find another love.”

“Some of us are made for just one person. I’m grateful for the time I had.”

After a short silence, the man grunted. “Follow me.”

Chapter Eleven

The landlord at the Three Ravens was not at all happy to be awakened, although his demeanor brightened considerably when Henry handed over a small fortune in Fraysian coppers. Henry sincerely thanked the watchman, who refused a gratuity, before following the landlord up a narrow flight of stairs that seemed to go on forever.

“The kitchen fire’s out for the night,” said the landlord when they reached the small room at the top. He scratched his chin doubtfully. “I could find you a bread roll and some cheese, I suppose.”

“There’s no need, thank you.” Henry had eaten almost nothing all day but his exhaustion outweighed his hunger.

Looking relieved, the landlord nodded and left, softly closing the door behind him.

Henry didn’t bother to look around, but he did release Stefano and made sure the washing-up bowl had water in it. Then, groaning, he pulled off his boots and collapsed onto the thin mattress, fully dressed. He fell asleep before he could douse the candle, which eventually sputtered out on its own.

He slept much later than he intended to, but at least he felt well-rested. He took a few minutes to stretch and look around the room, which was spare but clean. Stefano crouched in the bowl looking glum, but that was unavoidable with his frog face. Gods, Henry missed Stefano’s pointy chin, his snub nose that turned pink at the tip when he spent too long in the cold, his sweet mouth that curled into smiles whenever he caught sight of Henry.

Rubbing at his aching chest, Henry nodded at Stefano. “Are you hungry?”

Stefano shook his head. Henry still hadn’t gotten over the oddness of that motion.

“I’ll return soon.”

The common room was empty except for the landlord and a half-grown boy who looked just like him and was probably his son. The boy stared openly at Henry while sweeping the floor, but the landlord, who appeared to be fixing an upended chair, barely glanced his way. “Too late for breakfast, and dinner’s not for hours.”

Henry had expected this. “Do you have anything at all I could eat? It doesn’t need to be cooked. Or even particularly good.”