Annette was bored. She was left to her own devices when Keziah left the inn to look for a passage to Nardan. She had already bathed, washed her clothes, and prepared new ones. She even started doing push-ups out of boredom. Push-ups! If someone would have told her two weeks ago that she would be doing physical training of her own volition, she would think them deranged like the woodsmen of Blackwood and tried to never be in the same place as them again. It was that crazy of a notion. Yet here she was, wondering if squats should be next.

The room they were given was of regular size, at least comparably to the inn where her now-deceased mother had worked and where Annette had grown up. Two beds that held two surprisingly soft mattresses — Annette had already checked — were laid under the single window on the opposite wall as the door. There was a single cupboard under that window, close enough to both beds to be helpful. Under the side walls, there were some empty shelves and other cupboards, as well as a table with two simple chairs. She suspected that the shelves were empty to allow some patrons that stayed longer to put their stuff there. It was a common practice in her old 'home' as well.

One corner was dedicated to bathing and hygiene, it seemed. A big wooden tub for bathing and a smaller one for clothes. It was filled with substances that made it easier to do so and they smelled strongly like alcohol to her. She had used both either way. Life in the Palace was unbearable for the most part for her, but it had its perks. Personal bathroom was one of them, and she wasn't sure she would ever stop missing it. It was only a few days, but the absence of it made itself known to her.

Keziah still hasn't returned after she had done what felt like a yearly surplus of exercises. It was at times like these that she regretted never getting a hobby. It wasn't really her fault she hadn't — there never was a chance or time to do so. In the inn, she always had to work and in the Palace, no one would show or teach her anything. Well, except for Evelyn. She would always spend time with her whenever she could. Ever since their eyes first met in one of the corridors whenever Annette was being taken from one room to another, Evelyn had tried to make her stay there a bit more pleasant.

A few hours went by and with no sign of Keziah returning, she started wondering what were those noises that were gaining in intensity and numbers. Keziah told her to not leave the inn, not the room, so she wondered whether it was okay for her to check out the evening party downstairs. She didn't have a brother — not counting her step brothers that made it clear that she wasn't welcomed in the Palace —, but if she had, she suspected that bending the rules set by them as part of the sibling package. The sounds of the stringed instrument she thought was a lute helped her come faster to that conclusion. She hid whatever valuables in their bags they had under the bed and, with curiosity and faked confidence, she closed the door behind her and came down to the lower floor of the inn.

The bustling noises of a myriad of different groups reverberated throughout the inn. There were so many people that even Annette — accustomed to such a life — was left surprised. So many tables were now occupied and put to use that it was almost hard to walk through some of the spaces. People took some tables and connected them to each other to create space for bigger groups and the smaller ones were sitting near the walls protruding from the sides, creating something akin to alcoves for the clients that wished to remain more private. The conversations were quieter there, which was to be expected. In one of the corners, devoid of such alcoves, was even a humble stage on which a bard was playing some tune that sat well with the ladies as well as the men. Her own old inn would host musicians from time to time, and she knew that such a feat was harder than it looked.

The bard himself was young, with his age somewhere between hers and Kez's, which would be around 20 years old. It was rare to see a bard with such talent being so young. There were many, many young men who wished to spend their time singing, traveling, and wooing the ladies, but Annette — even without being an expert herself — could recognize that his talent was genuine.

Annette ordered something to drink — well, tried to order something to drink.

"Pint of ale, please." She stood before the bar, behind which stood a middle-aged, slightly balding barman. She tried to look as confident and as 'this is normal' as possible.

The barman took his eyes off of the glass he had been cleaning and with a raised brow looked at her. "How old?"

"Fourteen," she replied.

"Hm, why do you look nine, then? Are you lying?"

Annette tried to suppress the anger at almost the same words that Keziah had said to her on their way here. "No, sir. I really am fourteen. I don't think nine-year-olds would have this to pay with." She took a silver coin out of her pocket, trying to be as casual as she could. The coin was Keziah's because the only things she possessed were some fabrics and clothes she had packed for her trip to a charlatan healer that had bought her from King Clemen. Even if she were to go back to the Palace to collect her things, she wouldn't come away with much as they didn't really spoil her much over there. She would have just had to apologize to Keziah later.

"Neither should fourteen years olds have to pay for ale, for that matter," replied the barman, but the sight of the coin clearly made his decision easier. "Well, it's not my problem. I'm not your parent." He proceeded to fill a mug with ale, but she noticed him mixing it with water. He didn't charge as much for it, though, so Annette only gave him a side glance and went to sit in one of the empty chairs in the small crowd gathered before the bard.

She spent the next hour or so listening to the performance and laughing at the jokes of the bard and the people in the crowd. The sun was now down and there was still no sign of Keziah. She started to get worried. She knew he could handle himself, but no man was invincible. What if someone had jumped him, or someone from Avinea caught wind of him? He told her not to leave the inn, presumably to avoid feeling what she was now feeling. She knew it would be dumb to go looking for him. She didn't have the skills, experience, nor courage to do such a thing. She also knew it would be stupid to go out, just in case he would come back and then start looking for her.

She suddenly felt very lonely in the crowd of people that she was previously enjoying her time with. The strange feeling of being watched she experienced a few times since she sat down also didn't help. That feeling of loneliness got only stronger with the fear of being abandoned, even if she knew Keziah would do no such thing. Still, the fear and uncertainty were there. She moved to place her empty mug on the bar and retire to their room. Midway to the bar, someone bumped into her, causing her stressed self to yelp and fall to the ground. What was going on? Did she offend someone? She hesitantly opened her eyes, still on the ground, and noticed that no one was paying her attention. Most people were minding their own business, but a small crowd had gathered in a different part of the tavern than the stage.

Five men stood before a small table, their arms crossed and their postures challenging. They were arguing about something with the three people sitting at the small table, but Annette couldn't really see them or what was going on, so she continued to walk to her room, around the small gathering. It was then that she heard a hand slap on the table and a familiar voice following it.