Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 130: Hiding Place (2)

Lindarion said nothing.

'Of all the things to be famous for. Beating some egotistical kid in a spar. Fantastic.'

Ren smiled. "Well. That explains your attitude."

Meren squinted. "Wait. Wait wait wait. Are you saying he's… like, actually a prince? Not a metaphor?"

Ardan let out a long breath. "Yes, Meren. That's exactly what she's saying."

Lira stepped back.

"You should not be walking with exiles."

Ren stretched her legs. "Too late."

"They are beneath him."

"He walks where he wants."

Lira's eyes narrowed. "So do wolves."

Lindarion moved past her and sat. Not on the carved bench. Just on the floor, next to the fire. One knee up. His eyes didn't leave hers.

"I am not a wolf," he said. "I am very tired. And I am not leaving."

Lira said nothing for a moment.

Then, quietly, "You should have hit Sylas harder."

Ren laughed.

"Make tea," she said. "He's earned it."

Meren sank down next to Lindarion, eyeing him like he might suddenly sprout a throne. "Prince, huh?"

Lindarion didn't answer.

'And now they know. Perfect.'

—

The tea smelled like bark and burnt honey.

Lira didn't speak while she made it. She moved with the kind of silence that came from doing the same thing too many times.

Her hands barely paused between pouring, steeping, straining, pressing. The kettle didn't whistle. It breathed. Just like everything else in this place.

Ren leaned against the wall now, arms folded, watching nothing.

Ardan sat near the door. Not relaxed. But not tense either. He was like furniture with teeth.

Meren huddled close to the fire and stared at Lindarion like he was trying to match a wanted poster to a drawing of someone who used to be his neighbor.

"So," Meren said. "Prince."

Lindarion took the tea Lira handed him. It was too hot. He didn't sip.

"Don't," he said.

Meren grinned. "Don't what?"

"Whatever is about to come out of your mouth."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

Meren held up his hands. "Okay, fine. No jokes. I'm just saying. It's weird."

Lindarion arched an eyebrow.

"I mean, you don't act royal," Meren said.

"I am sitting on the floor," Lindarion said.

"Exactly. I've met nobles. Most of them wouldn't sit on a bench if you paid them."

Ardan grunted. "He's not most."

Ren finally looked up. "What was it like?"

Lindarion didn't answer.

Ren nodded once, slow. "That good, huh."

Lira passed a second cup to Ardan. Her movements had lost their suspicion. Not her attention. She still watched Lindarion out of the corner of her eye like a riddle she hadn't finished solving.

Lindarion took a sip.

It was bitter. Not in a bad way. Just like it had something to say and didn't care if he wanted to hear it.

"Quiet," he said.

Ren blinked. "Sorry?"

"You asked what it was like," Lindarion said. "It was quiet."

She tilted her head.

"There were people around," he said. "Always. But the kind that look at you like a glass they're not allowed to touch. Everyone polite. Everyone careful. No one was totally honest, or at least that's what it seemed like. Not to mention the expectations I will have to face."

Ardan sipped his tea.

Meren frowned. "Didn't you have, I don't know, tutors? Guards?"

"I had all of those," Lindarion said.

"But?"

Lindarion stared at the fire. "It's hard to make actual accomplices when you're being measured every second."

Ren's voice came softer now. "So you best Sylas just to get attention? I don't get it.."

He smiled faintly.

"No. I beat him because I wanted to prove a point."

Even Lira's hands stilled.

"I was around six," Lindarion said. "He was twice my size. I thought it would mean something or satisfy me."

Meren blinked. "And you dropped him?"

"Yeah." freewёbnoνel.com

Ren gave a low whistle. "Damn."

"It was definitely not diplomatic," Ardan said.

"No," Lindarion said. "But it was a correct spar."

Silence moved back in. This one felt different. Less suspicious. More like space had opened up where something unspoken used to sit.

Ren stirred her tea with one finger.

"Still," she said. "You don't talk like a prince."

"Because I listen more than I speak," Lindarion said.

"Really?" Meren said. "Because you also complain a lot."

Lindarion glanced sideways at him.

"That," he said, "is survival instinct."

They all drank.

Lira stayed standing.

Eventually, Ren said, "What do you want from him?"

Lira didn't flinch. "Nothing."

"You recognized him the moment we walked in."

"Because I know stories."

"So do I," Ren said. "That doesn't mean I bow to them."

"I didn't bow."

"You're still standing."

Lira didn't respond.

Lindarion finished his tea. He set the cup down with care.

"He's not a story," Lira said finally. "He's a warning."

Meren leaned forward. "Of what?"

Lira's eyes met Lindarion's.

"Of what happens when the wrong prince learns to win."

Ren's smile thinned.

"I don't think he's the wrong one," she said.

Lindarion didn't speak. Not yet. His thoughts didn't move like a river. They came in pieces.

'Let her think what she wants.'

'Let them all guess.'

'The truth is quieter than any of them can hear.'

—

Lindarion didn't speak for a while. He let the fire shift. Let the room settle again. The silence wasn't tense this time. Just brittle. Like something new was balancing on top of something old.

Then he looked at Lira.

"Your turn," he said.

She didn't blink. Just watched him the same way she had since the beginning. Like she was waiting to be wrong about him.

"My turn for what," she said.

"You know who I am," he said. "I don't know you."

"You don't need to."

He tilted his head. "But I want to."

Ren raised an eyebrow, amused.

Lira's jaw tensed once. "Curiosity can be a slow kind of poison, Prince."

"So can silence," Lindarion said.

She set the kettle down with a bit too much care.

"I was born under the third eclipse," she said finally.

Meren groaned. "Please don't start with some fate and shadows story.. My head's already cracked open from earlier."

Lira ignored him. Her gaze stayed on Lindarion.