Larkin stumbled along, forcing himself to stay alert for any sound. He couldn't afford to get caught, not given the shape he was in. There was no way to explain any of his injuries that wouldn't bring more attention than Larkin could afford to have focused on him. If he could reach his room, he could take the healing potion he had tucked away. This wasn't the emergency he'd thought he'd need it for, but given his choices were take it or go to the healers… Larkin froze, listening carefully. Had he imagined that soft scuff of a footstep? He shuffled sideways, into the shadows of a slightly protruding support beam. It wouldn't stand up to more than a cursory look, but anyone sneaking around this late would hopefully, like him, be more inclined to secrecy than finding out who else lurked in the palace hallways. Unfortunately, it appeared he really had run out of luck. Larkin bit back a curse as Prince Garnett Beringer appeared out of the connecting corridor a few doors down the hallway. Between his unyielding, stiff posture and the slightly out-of-fashion, high-collared jackets he preferred, he was unmistakable even in the low light provided by the mage lights lining the corridors.
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