A Week to Midnight

The Bakery

Cal could hardly believe that he was doing this, he could hardly believe that he was being helped! It was now the third day of the celebrations and Jada had agreed to remain in the palace, in order to convince others that the prince was merely exhausted and was in his room, wishing to be left alone until he was rested.

Luka had been easy to convince, quite prepared to lead Cal and Florian into what he would not stop calling 'the real world'. He seemed eager to help his friend do something that would have boiled his father's blood to the point where he may have exploded.

Elliot had been much harder to convince. He seemed constantly on edge, worried about being scolded by the queen or by his brother. It had been Jada who had managed to persuade him, telling him that she had been looking for a truly loyal and noble candidate for a butler and he had jumped at the opportunity to get out of his brother's shadow.

Elliot also seemed quite fond of her, hanging onto her every word, and obeying every demand she gave him, returning every smile she sent his way. He had helped find a cloak to cover the prince's hair and face, Luka had brought clothes for him, though they were a little large on the smaller man and his trousers had to be secured with a length of rope that Luka had brought from the stables.

Cal was surprised by how determined Florian was about seeing the truth of Cal's claims for himself. He had never considered that Florian's compliancy had been out of innocent ignorance, he had no idea what was truly happening.

He cared.

If Cal could show Florian the truth, make him realise what the real world was truly like, make him see that there was no real freedom for anyone in this world, then Florian could change things for the poor.

Remember why you are here, said the voice that lingered at the back of his mind. Sheltered or not, he has blood on his hands and your family will not be free until you are washing his blood off your own.

Cal had not brought his own clothes with him and had been forced to borrow some of Luka's as well, luckily he and Luka shared a similar build so the clothing fit him a lot more comfortably than they did Florian.

Luka had managed to sneak them out through the servant's exit and, with his food hiding his face, Florian had been well hidden behind the two of them. As soon as they were beyond the gates and far enough from the walls to not be recognised, Florian lowered his hood and looked out towards the buildings that began to line the streets. Most were small, stone cottages that were likely smaller than the prince's bed chambers but they looked rather comfortable from here. There were also larger buildings that belonged to landowners and inventors who had managed to pull themselves up the ladder.

"Where shall we go?" Florian asked, he was practically vibrating with the excitement of being outside though he was attempting to keep his voice steady. Cal could also see that there was hesitation in the prince's eyes. He had never been outside the walls before, it was like a prison of luxury.

"Maybe we shou-" Cal was cut off when Luka had begun to drag them both down the street, a spring in his step as he pulled them along.

"I wanna show ya where Laura lives!"

Cal had no idea who 'Laura' was but as he turned to question Florian as to the identity of this person he noticed another burst of discomfort that flashed in his gentle eyes and he decided against it.

Laura, as it turned out, was Luka's fiancé. She was a pretty young woman, rather plump in shape with a round face and large green eyes. She had chocolaty brown hair that was bunched up on top of her head. She was certainly more well off in terms of money that Cal was, and maybe a little more so than Luka himself which was something he had not seen often. He knew it was common for families to force their daughters into marriages with richer men to support their family, it was almost refreshing to see she had been given a choice. There was something else that caught Cal's attention about her also, her hand had a habit of laying upon her stomach which was protruding ever so slightly beneath her dress.