Page 17 of I Ran Away to Evil
He’d been given a confusing report from the guards and read it twice before giving up and going back to tinkering. He could get information from the princess and then summon Chikli to his office that night if his tests were unsatisfactory.
He patted his work desk twice, and the princess jumped up to sit comfortably on its smooth, clean surface.
“Oh, um, I actually found out why I got past the lizardkin guards so easily,” the princess tentatively offered. “At least, probably.”
“You did?” Keith raised an eyebrow. He’d been reaching for a serrated knife set but changed his direction to a small carving knife hanging from an ornate display case. “Tell me more.”
“It’s all my fault.” She slumped forward, looking miserable. “I am a terrible Hero of Justice.”
“So don’t be a hero.”
“Pardon?”
Keith grabbed a quill and a tray of various ink bottles. He mixed a few together on a small seashell and put everything beside the carving blade. “If you want to be a hero, that’s fine, but it’s your parents forcing an identity on you without accepting your own preferences, am I right?”
“I mean, it’s best for the kingdom if the heir is strong and manly …”
“Sounds sexist to me. Half of the Valarian continent is ruled by women. Even if you aren’t counting Their Royal Highness Rowen of Peldeep, who switches between man, woman, or other at the drop of their fox tail.” Keith shook his head and tsked. “So aside from your parents wanting a son and forcing you into some half-cocked princely mold, you’ve no other attachment to being a hero?”
“…”
“As I said,” Keith continued when there was no ready response, “just don’t be a hero.”
Babble bubbled up and spilled out of her. “It’s not that I don’t like being a hero, and Iknowthat a princess is just as good as a prince. I know women and men level up equally, so there isn’t a difference between your Strength level sixty and my Strength level sixty—”
“Sixty?” Keith did a double take and looked the princess over slowly. She didn’t seem to notice.
“—and I know girls can rule with an iron fist. Grand Duchess Calisto of North Sumbria is so tyrannical that her nobles don’t get to keepanyof their collected tax money. They have to put it intoinfrastructure. It gives my father a hernia just talking about it … but I don’t like complicated magical memorization or killing people or backstabbing politics. I just want to go for long walks and meet interesting people and bake. Is that too much—” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, just give me a minute, and I’ll pull myself together. What were we talking about again?”
“You.” Keith took the empty tray of snacks from her and handed it off to Tulith, who disappeared out the door. “We were talking about you.”
“Oh.”
Keith waved a hand, and Henrietta lay down on the table. He dropped his brush in the ink and began drawing arcane symbols. The first spell was first level, requiring no concentration on his part.
“So tell me more.”
CHAPTER 9
Who Could Turn Down a Free Back-Pain Relief Potion?
Henrietta
“You want me to talk aboutme? But I’m annoying—Wait, of course, you still need to know about the guards.” I stared up at Keith from the table. It was probably foolish to let the Dark Overlord cast spells on me, but he could kill me any time he wanted, and there wasn’t much point in fighting when I’d volunteered. I explained what I’d learned that morning. “When the castle’s gate golem didn’t attack me, everyone assumed I was just here to challenge you to a normal duel. They’re all the rage in North Sumbria, or so I’m told.”
“Really?” Keith looked taken aback, but he continued to carefully brush the spell around my shoulder.
“So said Sithli, and he knows a lot about it, since his brother Sethli moved there last summer.” I resisted the urge to turn my head and watch him as Keith circled the worktable. It was a surprisingly nice worktable, and very comfortable to lie on. It was also the exact right size for me … Come to think of it, I was pretty sure this table had a house-sized golem on it when I was here yesterday. Best not to question a Dark Lord’s table, though. “Did you know that Grand Duchess Calisto allows anyone with a certified trade registry to compete in a test to immigrate? Even apprentices!”
“I did not.” Keith grimaced. “And I don’t care to have my skilled workers poached like that. What could she have possibly offered them that was incentive enough?”
“Free health care.” Just saying it left me in awe. My father would have had an aneurysm. “And a five-day work week.”
“Pathetic,” Keith scoffed, continuing to ink down the other side of my body. “Myminions have a four-day work week. Everyone in the Dark Enchanted Forest knows that.Andwe have a necromancer who resurrects them or reanimatesthem in case of accidents. If it’s reported fast enough, they can be revived with no side effects whatsoever.”
“Still, who could turn down a free back-pain relief potion?” I said. Even growing up a royal, we didn’t have very many pain relief potions—or maybeIjust didn’t have any. Mother was always saying things like, “Life isn’t about having fun; it’s about persevering through pain and suffering,” or “If you thought having a broken arm was bad, you should try wearing heels instead of those ugly training boots.”
Though now that I thought about it … a broken arm might actually be more painful? And Mother did have a personal royal apothecary that produced other potions at her leisure.
