Chapter 24
Colm replied in a small, timid voice. He avoided making eye contact with anyone. He had been that way since the moment they met — and still was.
Fionechta then turned to Rory.
“Rory, what about you?”
“Ah, I’ve got something important to take care of,” Rory answered nonchalantly.
Fionechta frowned at his half-hearted reply but didn’t press further.
“Rory, just don’t go bothering the women around here, all right? I know you snuck out last night.”
At Fionechta’s words, Colm coughed as if choking. The culprit, Rory, just laughed when he saw Colm sputtering.
Fionechta cleared his throat as if to shift the mood.
“I’ll be scouting the area nearby. And you, Maeve —”
“I’ll probably stay in my room and rest, like yesterday.”
“Good,” Fionechta said immediately, sounding quite satisfied with her answer.
“Then let’s all go our own ways. Maeve, try not to cross paths with that attendant if you can help it. Understood?”
After naturally confirming everyone’s plans, Fionechta wrapped up the conversation.
Maeve looked at the rough ends of his hair, streaked with strands of white, and nodded.
After finishing breakfast, she returned to her room just as she had told Fionechta. The small room contained a bed, a worn chair that looked as though it might collapse at any moment, and a wardrobe she didn’t want to open — all crammed into the narrow space.
Maeve lay down on the bed as it was. Since she’d eaten well, she thought she might as well take a nap — but no matter how she tried, sleep wouldn’t come.
Just then, there was a knock — tok tok — and an inn worker entered, carrying a basin filled with lukewarm water.
Seeing that, Maeve recalled the not-insignificant number of coins tucked away in her bag.
“I’d like to take a bath. Could you prepare a tub for me?”
She took out two silver coins and handed them to the maid. It must have been quite a generous payment, for the woman smiled brightly and hurried to get everything ready.
Soon after, two people came in, bringing a wooden tub filled with hot water. The moment they left, Maeve undressed and stepped into the tub.
It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed such a luxurious bath. At the old woman’s house, there hadn’t even been a proper tub — she’d simply crouched down and poured water over herself with a small basin.
Remembering that made her feel, more than ever, that she had truly left that village behind for good.
Maeve, too, had once been treated with care and respect. Though, was that really “care”? Either way, when she had been confined in Fergus’s tower, Maeve hadn’t needed to lift a finger — not even to move a single toe. Everyone had treated her with cautious reverence, as if she were some kind of princess.
Yes. Those were truly dreadful times.
Maeve absentmindedly rubbed a rough, barely-lathering bar of soap over her hair as she sank into her thoughts.
In any case, that attendant’s attitude had finally softened, and Maeve now planned to extend the prince’s life by transferring her magical power to his unconscious body whenever he was on the verge of death.
She intended to keep Prince Declan alive as long as possible — at least until they reached somewhere near her final destination.
After speaking with him directly, she’d realized that the prince wasn’t as troublesome as she’d first thought. True, he had once jumped to conclusions and misunderstood her, but over the past few days, he had grown much calmer. It seemed unlikely that he would continue to make unreasonable demands or bother her any further.
Once they arrived at that autumn forest — the one that seemed as though it had leapt straight out of a fairy tale — that would be a good point to part ways.
The Autumn Forest of the West. The mysterious forest said to be in a perpetual state of autumn — and the witch who was said to dwell there.
Maeve had heard rumors before that all sorts of strange things existed in the West — that creatures long vanished from the world now lived there, hidden from human eyes.
There must be a witch, or at least someone with wisdom akin to one.
Fergus had always despised wasting time on hopeless pursuits. Yet, for him to have searched for this witch for so long without giving up — that could only mean she truly existed.
Yes. One way or another, she would go find the witch, and then…
Maeve stopped her thoughts there.
What should she even ask?
The vague question crossed her mind, and she splashed cold water over her face.
After washing herself clean, her mood had changed. Maeve dressed and stepped outside, intending to take a brief walk around the area.
But the moment she opened the door and stepped into the hallway, she came face to face with Prince Declan — standing right in front of her room.
The prince’s face turned red the instant he saw her. His hand was raised as if he’d been about to knock, but upon realizing what he was doing, he hastily shoved it into his pocket.
“…Did you wash?”
That was the first thing he asked when he finally opened his mouth.
Maeve nodded.
The prince rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding her gaze.
“…I want to wash too.”
“…”
“I got an upset stomach and threw up everything I ate. The food here is… quite strong.”
Maeve then noticed the blotchy stains on his tunic — marks she hadn’t seen before.
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