Chapter 9 - Where did that leave him?

  Minutes before the princess’s door opened, Ryn stood waiting at the side, silent and still as stone. He leaned against the wall with arms folded, every breath measured to keep the ache in his chest from showing. Servants passed by, stealing glances at him, but none dared speak. At least not until—

  “Dark hair, tall… dead look in the eyes. And young,” a voice boomed down the corridor.

  Ryn’s head turned slightly, eyes narrowing toward the sound.

  “I’d say that’s him,” another voice cut in, dripping with disdain. “The bastard who couldn’t even do his job.”

  “Hey now, let’s all calm down,” a deeper voice cut through the mockery. “Why don’t we give the princess’s new guard a proper welcome?”

  The tallest of them stepped forward, a veteran whose armor bore the scars of countless campaigns. Chips and dents marked every plate, but there was an obvious disgust in his voice.

  Ryn’s gaze sharpened as it landed on the gleaming sigil etched into the man’s chestplate. His breath caught for a fraction of a second before he dropped into a sharp salute and bowed low.

  The Royal Vanguard.

  Handpicked knights who swore fealty not to generals, not to captains, but directly to the King himself. Their number was few, but their authority was unmatched. Wherever they walked, they carried the weight of the crown, and no one in the palace dared forget it.

  “Sir Dolrak,” Ryn’s tone was flat.

  A booming laugh followed. “Hah! What an honor, the boy knows of me.” Sir Dolrak’s scarred mouth twisted into a grin, though there was no warmth in it.

  The other two knights shifted, their armored steps deliberate as they spread out, forming a loose semi-circle around Ryn. The sound of metal against stone echoed.

  “Ryn, was it?” Dolrak finally said, his voice deep, measured, and far too casual, testing the shape of the name, savoring it.

  One of Dolrak's goons piped up, folding his arms as he stepped closer. “A shame, really. We spend years bleeding for Solvara, and yet one boy drags himself half-dead into her service… only to be carried back like a sack of grain.”

  Dolrak tilted his head, his scarred grin widening. “Tell me, boy… did she look more disgusted hauling your body through the streets, or more disappointed that you weren’t already dead?”

  The 2nd goon gave a short, humorless laugh. “Careful, Dolrak. If the mongrel’s survived this long, maybe it’s because she pities him. Or—” his tone edged into bitterness, “—maybe the King sees something in him we don’t.”

  With that, Sir Dolrak stepped in close, his gauntleted hand shooting out to seize a fistful of Ryn’s dark hair. He yanked his head back with a rough jerk, shaking it as though testing the strength of reins on an unruly horse.

  Ryn’s hands twitched at his sides, curling into fists before he forced them open again. The aching pain in his chest gnawed at him, but he forced himself to stay still. These men outranked him, knights chosen by the King himself. Respect was demanded.

  Dolrak’s grin was jagged. “Do you know the value of a knight?” His words were low and venomous as he continued to rattle Ryn’s head by the hair. “It’s to keep what you protect out of trouble.”

  Dolrak leaned in from the side, his lips curling, whispering into Ryn’s ear. “And if they can't do that”

  “…then they have no right guarding anyone,” he finished smoothly, his eyes narrowing with quiet disdain. “Don’t you agree, boy?”

  Ryn understood his words. he himself was embarrassed at the situation; he had failed to protect the princess at the very end and had needed to be catered to instead. It was shameful

  But still…

  Something about the situation angered him. he couldn’t tell why. These men outranked him, so whatever they did was acceptable; it was within reason.

  His mouth opened, a word half-formed, but he caught himself. A shallow breath hissed between his teeth as he swallowed the response whole.

  He caught the faint creak of a door opening, followed by the unmistakable sound of the princess’s sharp voice cutting through the air.

  “Enough. Step away from him.”

  The knights turned at the voice, and the moment their eyes fell on the princess, Dolrak released Ryn’s hair as if burned. He bowed at once, the others following a beat slower.

  “Tell me, do my father’s knights truly have nothing better to do than bully an injured boy?”

  “N-no, Your Majesty, we weren’t… it was only a bit of discipline! A test of his mettle, nothing more!” one of the knights stammered, his voice thin against the weight of her glare.

  Another shifted uncomfortably, the clank of his armor betraying his nerves. “Y-yes, Your Majesty, just…just keeping the boy sharp. For your safety, of course !”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  She clicked her teeth and didn't even bother looking at them. Her gaze locked on Ryn, sharp as glass.

  Being met only with Ryn’s silence, Ariel’s lips tightened. She held his gaze for a heartbeat longer, then turned away, her eyes settling on Lilia instead.

  “Let’s go.”

  Ryn fell into step behind Ariel and Lilia, leaving the Royal Vanguard frozen in their wake, their silence heavier than any words they might have thrown.

  ***

  As the three passed beyond the castle gates, Ariel’s steps slowed.

  “What the hell was that back there?” she demanded, voice low but cutting.

  Ryn replied with his usual calm detachment, his gaze fixed ahead rather than on her.

  “They seemed angry,” he said flatly. “Maybe I deserve it… Perhaps I’m not living up to their expectations.”

  Ariel froze, and Lilia with her. Both turned to Ryn, identical looks of bafflement crossing their faces.

  Ariel was the first to break the silence. Her brow furrowed, lips tightening. “Sometimes, I swear you’re just crazy .”

  Lilia shook her head softly, her voice calmer but no less pointed.

  “Ryn…, they weren’t targeting you out of concern for the princess. That was bitterness.. nothing more.”

  Ariel gave a curt nod. She jabbed a finger toward him, eyes hardening. “Listen: everyone in this castle knows facing an aberration without a blessing is a death sentence. You not only killed it, you kept both of us safe. That’s more than any knight in this palace can claim.”

  Ryn’s eyes flickered downward, conflict shadowing his face.

  He spoke again, his tone level.“That’s not the point. What if, when I collapsed, another came? Or—”

  Ariel stepped closer, her voice cutting him off. “Stop clinging to what could have been or what you didn't do, and start realizing what you did. Because if you can’t see your own worth, how the hell am I supposed to trust you with mine?”

  Ryn was silenced.

  Noticing no reply, Ariel huffed and spun on her heel, Lilia trailing after her.

  Ryn lingered only a moment longer, silent, before his feet carried him after them.

  The three of them were winding through the city’s lantern-lit streets and quieter alleys where the noise of the palace seemed far away. Ariel kept her pace even, Lilia at her side, while Ryn trailed a step behind. The white cobblestones clicked beneath their boots, the air carrying the mingled scents of roasting chestnuts and damp stone. However, after many hours

  Ryn was met with the sight of Solvara’s business district, a place he rarely ventured. The streets here gleamed with white polished stone, lined with vendors beneath awnings of rich silks. Stalls overflowed with things he could never dream of affording: delicate glass trinkets, imported perfumes, bolts of fabric dyed in impossible colors, and racks of clothes stitched with golden thread. The air carried the mingled scents of roasted nuts, candied fruits, and foreign desserts dusted with sugar and spice. All around, nobles and merchants drifted through the bustle as if the entire place existed for their indulgence.

  As Ariel moved through the bustling street, heads turned almost instinctively. The press of merchants and common folk seemed to part around her without command, their chatter dimming as eyes lingered on the princess. Even without her gown or crown, people recognized her golden hair.

  However, Ryn noticed that it seemed Ariel was searching for something specific. Her steps quickened, eyes scanning the rows of shops with a practiced precision that made it clear she wasn’t here to wander. He followed in silence, his gaze flicking over merchants who leaned out of their stalls, eager to catch her attention. Yet Ariel ignored them all, weaving through the crowd with purpose until, after a long time, her expression shifted. She had found what she was looking for.

  By the time they had reached, the sun had already began to shed to moonlight

  They stopped before a small, quaint building, its walls of polished white stone gleaming like the rest of Solvara’s proud architecture. A modest sign swung gently at the front, etched in neat golden letters: Frills Bakery and Restaurant. Ariel’s eyes brightened as she turned to Lilia, her voice carrying a rare warmth.

  “This is it, Lilia, the place I told you about. The food here is soo good.”

  Lilia’s brows lifted as she glanced at the sign. “A bakery?... All this walking for that?” Her tone wasn’t mocking, but it carried that flat edge of disbelief she often had.

  Ariel shot her a look, chin tilting up. “Not just any bakery. You’ll understand once you taste it.”

  Ryn said nothing, though his eyes lingered on Ariel.

  He stepped forward and pushed the door open, bowing as Ariel and Lilia passed. Lilia offered him a small, polite nod. Ariel’s gaze brushed over him for the briefest moment before she moved on without breaking stride.

  As Ryn followed them inside, the scent of warm bread and sweet glaze rolled out to meet him. The little bakery was cozy, its walls of polished white stone softened by shelves of golden loaves, sugared pastries, and rows of delicate cakes glistening under glass.

  The air was hazy with the faint warmth of ovens and crucibles still working in the back, every breath tinged with cinnamon and honey. Polished wooden tables, far fewer than one might expect, lined the floor with fresh linens laid out in quiet care. It was quiet, which only furthered the atmosphere.

  A handsome young man approached with an easy smile, his neatly combed hair and crisp white apron marking him as staff, though the way he carried himself suggested more than just a worker. “Hello, and welcome to Frill’s Bakery and Restaurant. Is th-” His words cut off the moment his eyes caught the gleam of Ariel’s golden hair. For a second, he froze, posture straightening before his smile returned, warmer, more genuine.

  “Lady Ariel,” he said with a respectful bow. “Welcome back.” His gaze shifted toward Lilia, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Ah, then this must be the friend you promised to bring the next time you visited?”

  His eyes slid past Lilia and landed on Ryn. For a heartbeat, something flickered there, surprise first, then a faint, unsettled crease of distress he didn’t quite manage to hide.

  “Yes, Frill,” Ariel said lightly, though there was an edge beneath her words. “This is the friend. The other, scarier one…” her gaze cut toward Ryn with a frown, “is my appointed guard.”

  Frill’s expression smoothed into something warmer, though the curiosity in his eyes hadn’t quite left. “I see,” he said with a faint smile. “Then I’ll have a table prepared for three, I presume?” His tone was light and courteous.

  Ryn’s mouth opened, ready to interject, “No, only for two,” convinced the princess meant only for herself and Lilia to enjoy this outing.

  But before he could speak, Ariel answered without the slightest pause, her tone as natural as breathing. “Yes, for three.”

  Ryn blinked, the words catching him off guard. He closed his mouth without a sound, masking his surprise behind the usual calm set of his features. He tried to open his mouth again to refuse, but the faint scent of sweets lingering in the air seemed to tie his mouth shut.

  ‘It would be rude to, anyway,’ he thought to himself.