They only made it as far as the old mill that first day. Not surprising. Sera couldn’t take any of the larger, faster transports, or any of the public rattletraps that clattered between the cities.
They had to get away unnoticed, so she took Z down to the market – a frequent enough occurrence that she only had two guards tailing them – and wandered through the stalls, buying odds and ends at random.
At least that was what she hoped it looked like. Her plan, such as it was, unravelled the minute they’d walked out of the palace in their ‘ordinary person’ clothes. Their guards weren’t her usual pair of disinterested noble boys, these two were new. Large, hard-eyed and far too alert for her comfort.
Eventually, as Z began to complain of sore feet, Sera steered him towards a café on the inland edge of the market square. She held up a hand as the guards went to follow them through the door. “I don’t know who you are, or what you think you’re doing but I refuse to have your sour looks spoil my tea. You may wait for us outside.”
One scowled and looked like he was about to argue. The other smirked and gave a mocking bow. “We live to serve, Your Ladyship.”
Sera rolled her eyes and entered the shop, closing the door behind her with a snap.
She summoned the manager with a tilt of her head. “A table near the back. Our guard dogs’ stares are irritating.”
This was one of her establishments, a place where people knew who she was, past the surface of her title. They wouldn’t actively help her, but they wouldn’t get in the way when she and Z slipped out the back either.
She waited long enough for Z to start fidgeting, then walked out through the alley-way door.
The DNA of Stories 