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<br/>​</div>Nerys took back the pouch with a somewhat sour expression in catching the look he was giving her, an unfurling of indignant complaints in her chest that she choked down only thanks to years of trained repressing of emotion. He looked like he wanted to lecture her, and it was not something she was used to seeing on faces other than those of her parents, or perhaps her brother; being looked at in such a demeaning way from a stranger was irritating, to say the least. He at least had the gall to keep his composure in his words, although Nerys was beginning to think that all of his ‘my ladies’ were spoken through gritted teeth and years of indoctrination of knighthood, rather than any actual respect towards her position. This could be something she’d figure out later, however. Perhaps after a warm dinner and lying in a relatively soft bed.<br/><br/>She shuffled after him, taking care not to let her cape brush against any of the other patrons, but her attention was quickly dislodged at the mention of harlots. Her head jerked up as she tried to listen in on their conversation, attempting to make out if she was the one being accused of being a scarlet woman, or if Sir Kynaston was simply being thought a chaser. She pressed her lips together, hanging a bit further back as she pretended not to notice the inquisitive glances of those around them, taking note of her guard’s conversation with the owner. So much for lying low.<br/><br/>What she definitely didn’t expect was for him to turn around and turn his earlier expression into an actual reprimand. She felt her jaw lock, coolly analyzing his word choice to determine if it was offensive or not. She was aware that she was actively looking for a reason to be angry with him, but, at least in this case, his diction and perhaps experience in dealing with nobility were letting him off the hook. She gave him a smile that very definitely did not reach the eyes.<br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a64dff"></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff"><b>“Of course. I find it rather haggard to deal with the people here anyhow,”</b></span>she agreed with him,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff"><b>“I think it’s best for you to keep the pouch as well, in that case.”</b></span><br/><br/>Another load off her mind, although the thought of him possibly pocketing the money and making a run for it did cross her; he hadn’t struck her as one of the degenerate, unloyal knights, but then again, she’d always appeared to be the perfect princess, and she had turned out to be good only for saving the throne rather than ruling it. Appearances, she knew better than anyone else, were deceiving.<br/><br/>Despite giving him these few small wins, Nerys didn’t quite feel like following after him like the ‘squire’ she was supposed to be. Instead, she stepped in front of him, making way towards the stairs in the back as had been directed by the owner. She turned her head towards the food on the table, eyeing what they offered to see if anything struck her fancy, and as she did so, she made eye contact with the woman that had been serving plates. The look they shared made her uncomfortable, as if the woman were aware of who she was, and where she was headed, and she hastily broke contact and hurried up the stairs, taking care not to trip over her own robes.<br/><br/>Blasted dress! She knew she shouldn’t have worn one at all, but her mother had insisted that having the princess ride out wearing pants like a common roamer, or worse yet, thief, would’ve been indecent. Her chambermaid had been kind enough to let her wear some pants beneath the skirt, but it didn’t do much more at the moment than weigh her down and make her feel clumsy on the rickety wooden steps, splintered ends catching on the hems and threatening a rip with every stride upwards.<br/><br/>According to the man, the room was at the very top of the inn, at the very, very top of the stairs. One flight, two flights, three flights up, and Nerys was huffing more due to annoyance than actual tiredness. In front of them were three doors, but none had any kind of writing on them like what he’d described. Nerys glanced behind her to make sure her knight was still there as she hesitatingly tried to open one of the doors anyway.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#404040"><b><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#660000">“OY!”</span> </b></span>A voice bellowed from the other side, and she jumped back in fright at the unexpected reaction from her fumbling with the lock.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#660000"><b>“Shoddy thief you are, eh? Heard you comin’ up the stairs too!”</b></span><br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff"><b>“I’m no thie--”</b></span>Nerys raised her voice, indignant, and as she did so, raised her gaze as well. The sight of the stairs lying against the wall, going up to a trap door in the ceiling were enough to cut her response short, and to turn to look at Ser Kynaston.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a64dff"><b> <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">“Oh, he couldn’t possibly have meant that. Could he?” </span></b></span>She scoured his face for any kind of sympathy, then let her own expression harden somewhat. Suck it up, she told herself. She’d slept in worse. An attic was probably even safer than a regular room, no one would think to go up there.<br/><br/>She made sure the straps of her bag were tight against her back, but before she took the first step, she turned back around.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a64dff"><b> <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">“Perhaps you should go first.”</span></b></span>The blonde encouraged him, ignoring the jibes still coming from the locked door. She hoped the man didn’t come out.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff"><b>“To make sure it’s safe.”</b></span>If the ladder could hold his weight, it could hold hers- and even if she was wearing pants beneath the skirt, she could already hear her mother berating her about letting a man climb up behind her vertically.<br/><br/>He’d just started climbing when the door behind her opened.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#660000"><b>“What, you’ve changed your victim ‘lready? Going for the old man’s stashes instead?” </b></span>The voice sounded more jolly than it had before, and Nerys turned around to be met face-to-face with a man of rather short stature, despite his decent looks. His dark hair was unruly, and framed a face that although sharp and clean, held a shadow of someone that had not lived on the cushy side of life. Nerys could easily tell the difference, because it was a shadow that, before now, she hadn’t seen on quite so many people in her life.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff"><b>“As I’ve said, we are no thieves. It was merely an honest mistake.” </b></span>She almost curtsied, but her mind flashed to her knight’s words and her foot froze mid-movement beneath the skirt.<br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#660000"><br/>
<b>“No such thing as honest ‘round here, pretty. Doesn’t your beau know that?”</b></span>He addressed Ser Kynaston this time, but there was still a note of joviality to his words. He was messing with them, Nerys realized. And digging for information at the same time.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#660000"><b>“But if the two of you would still like a look around my room, I’d be happy to welcome you in.” </b></span><br/><br/>He winked, placing a hand on Nerys’ upper arm. She felt the whole left side of her body stiffen at the touch; despite how light it was, and its lack of threat, it was a foreign object that was invading her space. Nerys wasn’t used to being touched, or touching, much less from strange men she’d never spoken to before. She stared down at the offending hand as if it were a bloodworm from the bogs, and, acting like a common peasant woman be damned, only managed a stiff whisper.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff"><b>“Unhand me. Now.”</b></span><br/><br/>He lifted his hand immediately, raising both in a sign of peaceful surrender, but a smile twinkled at the edge of his lips as he did so.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#660000"><b>“Of course. My apologies. But, say, aren’t you quite familiar? Have we perhaps met before?”</b></span><br/><br/>Nerys was still staring at the place where he’d touched her.