The Witch's Cursed Daughter

88. Romile And Wen

Running in the opposite direction to Julian and Voster, Wen and Romile were light on their feet as they stealthily manoeuvred well-hidden areas of the palace grounds. Keeping to the shadows, they avoided squadrons of Royal Knights and Guard Units that marched every way. Taking shelter in a group of trees, Romile knelt behind a bush, casting his gaze towards the tall stone tower behind Warrick Palace. Watching a group of Mages dash into the palace, Romile sighed as he wondered what Julian would be facing without him by his side.

Wen noticed that Romile's eyebrows were falling in concern; nudging the Guard with his foot, he uttered, "Refrain from thinking about things outside your control. Duke Fassie alerted me that the events should unfold as planned."

Romile spun round to stare at the first prince, who seemed to be comforting him. However, the expression on his face was evidently not one of comfort but rather annoyance. A chuckle rose to the back of Romile's throat, humoured by his foolish thoughts.

"Is that so?" he replied dryly.

Aware that Romile's words were less than thankful, Wen felt a tug on his patience, "He also agreed to ruminate on joining his house with my sister."

"The Emperor suggested that I marry the princess?" Romile blurted as he bolted to his feet. Suddenly, Wen appeared behind him, forcing Romile down by his head as he caught sight of a small squad of guards who were rushing in the direction of the tower. Having heard Romile's outburst, they had slowed to a walk, observing their surroundings. After no further sound suggested the presence of hidden forces, they continued on their path.

As Wen confirmed that they were safe, he realised that his body weight was still resting on Romile's head. Quickly retracting his hand, Romile withdrew his face from the damp, pine-covered ground with a look of thunder. Brushing away the bits of earth that had been driven into his skin, Romile glared at Wen.

"Yes, she seemed very pleased," the prince continued, trying to ignore events just passed. Romile did not reply, not only to refrain from raising his voice but also to deny Wen the satisfaction of his answer. Surveying the area once again, Romile launched himself from the bushes in the direction of the tower. A rapid weight pulled him down at his collar; the familiar scent of earth stunned his consciousness, along with frothing saliva he could feel blocking his airway.

Once again, Romile found fury as his companion, eyes blazing at Wen. However, the first prince seemed unaffected by Romile's increasing anger. "This way," Wen pointed in the opposite direction before running, leaving the flabbergasted Guard to catch up en route.

"Where are we going?" Romile puffed between strides.

"Salvia Palace," Wen replied unevenly as he focussed on breathing.

Bewilderment struck Romile as the cold air helped this information make its way into this brain, "Why? Evianna should be locked in the tower."

"Previously, she was. However, my sister found a more appropriate place to keep her," Wen answered while increasing his pace.

"And you didn't think to mention this beforehand? The plan required her to be in the tower."

"Sir Fassie, I suggest you mind your tone," the brown-haired prince snarled as he came to a halt by a second clump of trees. As Romile darted in behind him, Wen's green eyes flashed as his white aura prickled the air. Romile had never seen Wen's aura despite knowing that he possessed one and his mind wandered as he contemplated the possible attributes of his skills. As Wen continued talking, Romile found himself eye to eye with the first prince, "I may have pushed Julian to usurp the crown, and in order for that to become a reality, I have aligned myself with his forces, that being you. Nevertheless, I have a crown of my own upon my head, and I deserve to be spoken to with respect considering, without me, the girl would never have been returned to you."

Silence permeated the air, only for a rumble to carry across the sky. "My apologies, Your Imperial Highness," Romile answered politely.

Wen nodded, stepping away through the floor of dying leaves, "Unlike when we were children, you cannot and should not call me with familiarity."

"It's been years since I recalled those memories," Romile retorted, "Your Imperial Highness."

"Does Julian know that I was the master you wanted to serve?"

"He knew from the very first day we met. Later I shared that I trained by your side under the watch of my father until the Grandmaster accepted you."

"Yet he still trusts you completely?" Wen asked, fuelled chiefly by curiosity, yet envy wriggled in his mind.

"I owe him my life and more," Romile said, looking to the sky covered in thick rolling clouds. "You, Your Imperial Highness, abandoned my life when you found it could be replaced by something else."

Unsure of what other words could pass between them, Wen and Romile spent the remainder of their travel in silence. By the time they arrived at their destination, lung-curdling breaths were the only sounds audible.

"We're here," Wen panted.

Romile gawked at the size of the greenhouse, which revealed a jungle world hidden behind a layer of reflective glass. Looking inside, Romile could make out a dark figure. Gripping the hilt of his blade, he paused as Wen raised his hand. Waiting for the unidentified person to open the door, Romile felt a rush of relief as his eyes fell on a face he had not seen in a long time. Davore.