Chapter 26: The Whistle That Stopped the Guard

The rest of the afternoon passed in a flurry of activity. Sonne, ever resourceful, secured an unassuming covered wagon, its sides stacked high with crates of freshly picked strawberries, the perfect camouflage for a fugitive prince and his unlikely protector.

At dusk, they slipped out of the storehouse, their movements swift and silent, their shadows melting into the lengthening shadows cast by the setting sun. Caspian, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs, couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, that a thousand unseen eyes followed their every move.

The capital gates loomed before them, imposing and formidable, manned by guards clad in the blue and silver livery of the Snowfall Guard, their faces grim, their gazes suspicious of every traveler who dared to cross their path. Caspian’s hand instinctively moved towards the hilt of his sword, hidden beneath the folds of his simple green cloak, but Sonne, sensing his anxiety, placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

"Relax, Your Highness," he murmured, his voice a low, calming presence amidst the chaos of the city gates. "Leave this to me."

He urged the horses forward, his expression carefully neutral, his posture that of a simple strawberry merchant going about his business. As they approached the checkpoint, Sonne called out a cheerful greeting to the guards, his voice laced with just the right amount of deference and good humor to disarm even the most suspicious of minds.

The guards, their faces etched with boredom and weary cynicism, barely glanced at the wagonload of strawberries, their attention more focused on the steady stream of travelers entering and leaving the capital. Sonne, sensing their disinterest, pressed his advantage, launching into a rambling tale about the exceptional quality of his strawberries, the long hours he’d spent tending to his fields, and the even longer hours he spent hawking his wares at the capital market.

The guards, their eyes glazing over at Sonne’s well-rehearsed performance, waved the wagon through with a dismissive grunt, eager to be rid of the talkative strawberry merchant and his seemingly endless supply of agricultural anecdotes.

Caspian, his breath caught in his throat, let out a sigh of relief as the wagon rumbled over the cobblestones and into the relative darkness of the road beyond the city walls. He glanced back at the receding lights of the capital, a strange mix of longing and relief washing over him.

He was free, for now at least, but at what cost? He’d left behind everything he’d ever known – his home, his family, his title – all for the sake of a truth that seemed to slip further from his grasp with each passing day.

He turned to Sonne, his gaze meeting the strawberry merchant’s across the narrow space of the wagon, their eyes locking in through the gaps in the canvas cover.

"Thank you," Caspian murmured, his voice husky with emotion. He wasn’t sure what the future held, what challenges awaited them beyond the familiar safety of the capital walls, but he knew, with a certainty that defied logic and reason, that as long as Sonne was by his side, he could face whatever lay ahead.

Sonne, his lips curving into a slow, genuine smile, squeezed Caspian’s arm reassuringly. "Don’t thank me yet, Your Highness," he said, his voice a low rumble in the darkness. "The night is young, and we have a long way to go."

And as the wagon rumbled along the dusty road, heading towards the distant mountains and the promise of a new dawn, Caspian couldn’t shake the feeling that their journey had just begun.

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Caspian barely had time to dwell on their newfound freedom before a new wave of panic crashed over him. The rhythmic pounding of hooves against the hard-packed earth announced the approach of riders from the opposite direction. His heart plummeted to his stomach. More guards! This night was turning out to be far more eventful than he’d ever anticipated. Without a word, he scrambled into the back of the wagon, disappearing amongst the fragrant strawberry crates, leaving Sonne to deal with their latest obstacle.

Sonne, a master of composure even in the face of potential disaster, offered the approaching riders a casual wave, hoping to blend into the night.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he called out, injecting a healthy dose of cheer into his voice. "Beautiful night for a ride, isn’t it? Though I must say, a bit chilly for my liking!" He chuckled, as if sharing a harmless joke.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

"Halt!"

That voice. The commanding tone was unmistakable. Sonne’s shoulders slumped. Of all the guards in the kingdom, it had to be–

"Honey~" Sonne drawled, his voice oozing with exaggerated sweetness as he turned to face his pursuer, a playful smile already gracing his lips. "It’s late, what are you doing here? In the middle of the night?"

The captain, for it was indeed the blonde-haired soldier from the storehouse, dismounted with a sigh, their expression a mixture of exasperation and something akin to amusement. "Just coming home from the shift," they replied, their tone indulging Sonne’s theatrics for the moment. Apparently, they were heading back to the capital after some late-night business outside the city walls. "Where are you going?" they countered, their gaze sweeping over Sonne and the wagonload of strawberries with a hint of suspicion.

"I was looking for you," Sonne shot back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I was about to fetch you."

The captain raised an eyebrow, their lips twitching ever so slightly at the corner. "Outside the capital?" they questioned, their tone skeptical. "What’s with the cargo?" Their gaze lingered on the crates for a moment, as if expecting them to spontaneously combust and reveal a hidden cache of contraband.

Before Sonne could spin another one of his elaborate tales, the captain barked out an order. "Search the wagon!"

Three soldiers, their earlier boredom replaced by a spark of anticipation, immediately jumped down from their horses and began to swarm around the wagon, pulling back the canvas flap and peering inside.

Sonne, his carefully constructed facade momentarily forgotten, rushed forward, his hands outstretched in mock protest. "Honey, can we talk about this privately? No need to make a commotion…" he pleaded, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

But his words were lost on the wind, drowned out by the clatter of crates and the excited chatter of the soldiers as they went about their task with an efficiency that spoke of long practice in the art of surprise inspections. Sonne watched, his heart sinking, as the captain joined the search, their movements swift and thorough, their gaze missing nothing.

"Well, well, well," the captain’s voice rang out from inside the wagon, a hint of amusement coloring their tone. "What do we have here?" Sonne groaned inwardly. He’d known this plan was risky, but he hadn’t anticipated running into the captain again so soon. And definitely not under these circumstances. He had to do something, create a distraction, anything to draw their attention away from the wagon long enough for…

And then, inspiration struck.

As the captain emerged from the wagon, their brow furrowed in concentration as they examined something in their hand – probably a particularly large and juicy strawberry, Sonne thought wryly – Sonne let out a low whistle. Not just any whistle, mind you. This was a carefully calibrated, perfectly pitched whistle that would make a sailor blush and a siren reconsider her career choices. And he directed it, with laser-like precision, at the captain’s backside.

The captain froze, their head turning slowly, their gaze like ice as they scanned the surrounding woods. They were about to demand to know who had the audacity to disrespect them in such a way when they caught sight of Sonne, leaning against the wagon, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on…well, let’s just say it was the captain’s most aesthetically pleasing attributes. And he wasn’t even trying to hide it. In fact, if the appreciative gleam in his eye was anything to go by, he was thoroughly enjoying the view.

The captain, their cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink, quickly straightened, their hands flying to adjust their uniform as if they’d just realized they were standing in front of royalty instead of a lowly strawberry merchant. They would not condone such blatant disrespect! Not from this…this…flirtatious scoundrel!

As the captain turned to confront Sonne, their eyes narrowed, their steps measured and menacing, Sonne had the audacity to wink.

"You…" the captain sputtered, their carefully crafted composure momentarily forgotten. They were about to unleash a torrent of words, but before they could utter a single syllable, a faint thud sounded from behind them. The captain stopped, their brow furrowed in confusion. Had they imagined that?

They turned slowly, their hand instinctively moving towards the hilt of their sword, their gaze scanning the area around the wagon. And that’s when they saw him.

Caspian, his face a mask of cold determination, stood behind them, his hand still outstretched from where he’d delivered a swift, precise blow to the captain’s unguarded back.

"My prince, you’re so cool~" Sonne swooned, clapping his hands together in delight. He then flashed Caspian a double thumbs-up, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

Caspian, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile, flipped his silver hair back from his eyes, a gesture that radiated both princely grace and an air of undeniable sass.