Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 482. Visiting The Market III
Angel and Rose walked slowly through the market. Jane beside them, her gaze occasionally drifting toward familiar storefronts.
Roric approached from the side, timing his steps carefully.
Not too eager.
Not too distant.
Angel noticed him first.
Of course he did.
Their eyes met briefly.
No surprise.
No acknowledgment.
Just awareness.
Rose turned slightly, her gaze soft but assessing.
Jane's eyes widened faintly when she recognized him.
Roric stopped at a fruit stall near them, picking up an apple as if considering purchase.
Only when he was certain no castle guards lingered nearby did he speak, voice low enough not to carry beyond them.
"It is customary," he said lightly, as if commenting on the weather, "for Pontus royalty to ensure guests are not… inconvenienced."
Angel's lips curved faintly.
"And are we inconvenienced?" he asked quietly.
Roric did not look directly at him.
"That depends," he replied, equally soft. "On whether you seek guidance… or privacy."
Rose's eyes warmed slightly at that.
Jane stared at him like she was trying to read something behind his expression.
His heart pounded.
The battlefield had shifted from palace marble to open street.
Not banners. Not soldiers. Not steel drawn.
But it felt just as dangerous.
The market square was alive around them. Vendors shouted prices over one another. Children darted between adults with sticky fingers and loud laughter. The smell of roasted chestnuts mixed with sharp citrus peel and the metallic tang of fresh-forged blades from the smithing quarter nearby.
And yet inside Roric, everything narrowed.
The world felt muted except for the three figures standing within arm's reach.
Angel stood like he belonged anywhere he chose to stand. Cloak simple, dark, unmarked.
Rose looked almost unassuming. She blended into the market like any foreign noblewoman taking in unfamiliar sights.
Jane stood between them slightly behind, eyes flicking nervously from stall to stall. The sun caught strands of her hair.
Roric felt something twist painfully in his chest.
Focus.
Rose spoke first.
"What do you want to talk about, Prince Roric?"
Her voice was gentle. Not accusatory. Not suspicious. Just direct.
He forced his shoulders to remain relaxed.
"Maybe we could drop our statuses here," he said quietly. "Open market is not a really good place to talk in statuses."
Angel's mouth curved faintly.
"Then I will call you Roric," he said smoothly. "You can call me Rai."
The simplicity of it disarmed him.
Rai.
Roric nodded once. "Very well."
They began to walk again, slow, casual. No urgency. Just three nobles and a silent woman drifting between spice stalls and fabric displays.
Roric kept his hands clasped behind his back. He had walked battlefields like this before. Slow. Calm. Pretending not to calculate every angle.
He could feel his pulse in his throat.
This was real.
He was actually doing this.
He glanced sideways at Rose.
If anyone could understand what was happening to him, it would be her. The Heart family was legendary across the continent. Doctors. Poison masters.
He inhaled.
"Rai," he began carefully, then corrected himself, "Rai… and Rose."
The names felt strange on his tongue. Intimate. Dangerous.
Rose tilted her head slightly.
"Yes?"
He kept his gaze forward, watching a stall owner haggle with a customer over dyed silk.
"You are from the Heart family," he said quietly. "You understand medicine. Poisons."
"I do," she replied calmly.
He swallowed.
"I have… had a persistent headache," he said. "For years."
Saying it out loud felt absurd. Trivial. A prince seeking help for a headache.
But it was not just a headache.
It had never been just that.
Rose did not interrupt.
He continued.
"It began after a battle," he said. "I returned victorious. Or so I was told."
He did not look at them.
He did not want to see their reactions.
"Shortly after, the pain started. Behind my eyes. Sometimes at the base of my skull. It would come without warning."
A spice vendor brushed past them, the scent of crushed cinnamon and dried pepper clinging briefly to the air.
"The queen provided tonics," he added carefully. "To ease it."
Rose's voice remained soft.
"And they helped?"
Roric hesitated.
"They… kind of helped."
The lie felt heavy.
"They dulled the pain," he clarified. "But not entirely. The headaches always returned."
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