Fated Across Worlds

Homecoming (2)

[Oh?] said Prick, sounding amused after hearing both her voiced and unvoiced thoughts. [And what are you going to endure then? All the admiration and envy? An avalanche of suitors? The terrible burden of your own beauty?]

Hilde frowned. "Don't be insulting, please," she said in automatic defense of her cousin. "I'm sure that's not all Gisela's life would be about—how did you think her mother became the way she is?"

If Prick had a face, Hilde was somehow certain he'd now be wearing a smirk. But he did get his point across. From an objective standpoint, Hilde's pile of miseries, both past and present, rose higher compared to Gisela's. Her miseries were certain to multiply in the future, providing a convenient mountain that—as "Hilde"—her nameless self could climb, suffering every step of the way.

[You can stop trying to distract me. I still can't let you stay.]

"Just until we get to Oste…?" Hilde said, her tone not quite begging.

Prick seemed to have lost patience. [I am really under no obligation to make anything easy for you. Forget what you know about 'systems' in your previous world, you only learned those to get you used to the idea. Remember what you're really here for.]

Hilde narrowed her eyes but didn't respond. She never did forget, but she couldn't quite see how “following along” would help her uncover her true identity.

And at the moment, she couldn't see how finding out would even matter anymore.

"It's too painful out there," she said in a small voice, her body folding in on itself.

His tone without any trace of mercy, Prick replied, [Noted. Get going.]

Hilde was unceremoniously thrown back into her body. Now, it wasn't only grief she carried with her; there was also bitterness and anger.

At the very least, the emotions served to distract her from the carriage ride, which had become bumpier. Lady Ilse appeared to have taken Hilde at her word, ordering their retinue to go faster as soon as she had "passed out."

They had since entered a familiar forest road, which accounted for its relative roughness compared to the cobbled one out of Nelke. Glancing out the window, Hilde also found that the morning sun peeking between mossy tree trunks was much higher.

When she asked, Gisela told Hilde she'd been asleep for nearly two hours. In that time, they'd changed horses once and the maid had finished adjusting the hem of her dress.

Hilde's eyebrows rose. She had suspected it the first time around, but it seemed time did pass differently inside the Cube.

This confirmation only made Hilde angrier. That damn Prick couldn't even spare her a few hours of pain when it was only a few minutes out of his own time? He didn't have to be there with her. In fact, she'd have thanked him more if he'd stayed well away. What did he even do when Hilde wasn't there for him to mess with?

"Are you alright, dearest?" asked Gisela gently. She had understood her cousin's meaning earlier when she lied. If "that" matter was to be brought up again, it won't be by Gisela. But she worried that the lines on Hilde's forehead caused by whatever she was thinking of would become permanent, so she sought to interrupt.

Hilde, of course, wasn't alright, but since she couldn't exactly tell her cousin why that was the case, she had to lie again.

"Haven't we already made good time, then?" she said, putting on an even more wretched look. "Now I'm awake, I think I might throw up from this pace."

Gisela turned eyes of pleading to her mother beside her. The Lady sighed.

"We'll reach Akelei soon," she said, referring to the prosperous town that sat in the crossroads not only for those traveling to Arnica's capital from the north but also for those who come from the western borderlands. From Akelei, only one road led to Oste. "We might as well get breakfast at the Royal Inn while the horses are being exchanged. We'll continue at our original pace afterward."

The heavens help anyone who would oppose Lady Ilse once she'd laid down the law. Thinking she'd been lucky thus far for never truly entering the formidable woman's crosshairs, Hilde thanked her and resolved to do a better job at keeping her emotions from showing.

That last point was important. She now had to live with said emotions for good, after all.

***

The Royal Inn sat in the middle of Akelei's market square. While the five-story, half-timbered building of red-painted frames and beige infills was grander than the structures around it—which were of similar construction but painted in other vivid colors—it was an ordinary establishment that served anyone, no matter their station.

The inn bore that name because it was reserved for royals and nobles to stay in when they passed by. Even if they happened to come when the inn was at full capacity, the Innkeeper could not turn these guests away.

So when the soldier that Lady Ilse had sent ahead met them just as they were halfway to the square, the women in the carriage who watched his approach and noted his dark countenance were immediately on alert.

"Lady," the soldier saluted. He angled his horse to canter beside the window where his liege was framed. At her nod, he reported: "The Innkeeper bids you be warned. Delegates from the Kingdom of Lys have also just arrived from the western road. He said they mean to break their journey at the Royal Inn for a half-hour before continuing to Oste."

At the mention of their neighbor to the west, Lady Ilse had visibly stiffened. The countries might currently be at peace—at the moment, the murdering northern states were certainly more deserving of Arnica's hatred—but this Lady would never forget at whose hands the love of her life died.

She was not alone in this sentiment. Those representatives of their bitterest enemy would find no warm welcome anywhere in this Queendom. If Akelei's Royal Innkeeper could have found a halfway believable excuse, he'd certainly have turned those guests away. With glee, proprietors of lesser inns would have followed his lead.

It was little wonder why the Lyseans had timed their arrival for the funeral this closely. The same move would have been taken as an insult if any other foreign power had made it, but with the one in question, it was just as well.

Now, if they could also contrive to depart as soon as the funeral rites were over, the Arnicans could, in turn, contrive to forget that the blights had ever stepped foot on their soil.