Hollynd turned the corner of the stony alleyway, desperate to keep the eldest prince of the royal family within his sight. His chest heaved with exertion, his cerulean eyes wide and wild. Wild as they had always been.
How long have I been running like this, he asks himself often, How long has it been since I gave myself a job no one asked me to take. And every time he asks this, it's one day more than the last.
1,467 days. To Hollynd, it didn't feel that long. Only four years. Four years and one week.
Today was the prince's birthday, he learned from the gossip of the townsfolk (and the countless celebratory decorations blanketing the city; these truly were the richest of the kingdom if they had enough money to waste such a large amount on party decor).
Obviously, Hollynd himself should not attend the celebration. No one would want him there, regardless of whether they knew who he was or.. what he'd been doing for the past four years of his life.
He was filthy, nothing but a lowly street rat. He did not want the prince to see him like this. He would remain in the shadows, as he always did.
Shit, he was too slow. He lost sight of the horses. Hollynd mentally cursed himself and slipped into the local bakery (he had no money of his own but the baker owed him his life, apparently). Whatever, the prince's personal guards were competent enough. They could keep him alive for… 13 hours, maybe.
Hollynd could work with that.