Page 55 of I Ran Away to Evil
“Wife?!” Keith choked. “We aren’t even engaged yet!”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Yet. You’re so far gone, it’s only a matter of time.”
“I think it’s timeyouactually got back to work.” Keith waved a dismissive hand at his friend. “And let me do the same.”
“Fine. But Rufus isn’t the only person qualified to give you advice,” Chloe warned, huffing and turning to walk out of the office. Over her shoulder, she said, “And maybe you should listen to your friend who’s already in a happy relationship instead of the forever-alone therianthrope?”
“Goodbye, Chloe.”
CHAPTER 35
The Pounce Protectorate
Henrietta
I walked steadily until just about noon before I came across anyone else on the road, and then a trickle turned into a flood of travelers heading down the Great Road.
So far, I’d seen a family of field mice wearing tiny straw hats riding a small wagon pulled by a lizard, a lone wolfman who looked at me with suspicion, a caravan train of three carriages carrying ten lizardkin and cages filled with livestock, and an elf walking and reading a book at the same time.
We had a few half elves in Drendil. Sumbria was ruled by elves, but I’d never visited their courts. My parents enjoyed attending their royal gala every year while I challenged the Dungeon Valley Crest. I’d met a few elves on delegation to Peldeep, but they were all stoic political figureheads. This was the first elf around my age I had come across.
She wore long pants with a half skirt cut like a leaf over her right leg, and a leather protective chest plate over a loose shirt. Her brown hair was in an elaborate set of braids, and she had darker green skin than the half elves I’d met before. A delicate circlet perched on her brow.
I veered to the opposite side of the road so I wouldn’t startle her, but I needn’t have bothered; she kept her head in her book the entire time. She appeared shortsighted and had it up to her nose so she could read the words.
Did elves not have glasses?
Hubert was just a normal construct most of the time, flitting about overhead, and only rejoined me when Keith used him as an intermediary.
It was mid-afternoon, and I was halfway between the castle and the dwarves when I met with trouble.
“Here, you!” A beastkin in a helmet and leather gambeson marched over to me from a group of combatants I assumed were headed to the battlefield.
“Yes?” I tensed. I’d only seen a handful of humans since entering the forest, and I was surprised people didn’t callspyanytime they saw me.
The beastkin—I couldn’t tell what kind, since his ears and tail were hidden by armor—loomed over me. “Are you Princess Henrietta of Drendil?”
I wasn’t expectingthat. I repeated, more tentatively, “Yes?”
He turned to his compatriots and hollered, “IT’S HER!”
Suddenly, I was surrounded by enthusiastic beastkin.
“Did you really defeat the Dark Lord in single combat?”
“What level Strength do you have?”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Have you fought Rufus yet?”
When they first approached, I had immediately taken a guard position so I could escape before the eggs became compromised … but it was quickly apparent the group were more interested in gossip than fighting.
A midsize beastkin who came up to my shoulders did a cartwheel over the group and landed with a flourish in front of me.
His voice carried over. “Alright, you lot, back it up.”
There was a bit of grumbling, but everyone complied. The man was a calico catkin with three tufts pointing off each ear. He wore a casual white shirt under an embossed silk and leather vest, and his dark-brown pants tucked neatly into knee-high boots. Two knives and a short rapier hung off his belt. He wore a very fashionable hat; it even had a small collection of feathers. He purred hisRs subtly.
