The female behind the bar has sharply pointed ears and pursed lips. Her cool blue eyes glitter with the kind of iciness people get from living a hard life. She looks me up and down, and I can imagine the mess she sees. My white sleeping gown is now the color of a dusty dirt road, and I’m sure my face doesn’t look much better. My jaw-length red hair is a dirty, tangled mess, and my lips are parched from thirst. “I don’t do charity,” she mutters, already turning away to serve a more promising customer.
I plop a bag of coins onto the counter. My old thieving ways are serving me well. This fae gold is courtesy of a drunken orc at a tavern an hour west from here, where I’d originally planned to stay for the night. The orc had spotted me heading to use the facilities and thought he’d catch me in there and put his hands on me. I may have been exhausted, but I wasn’t too tired to wrap him in darkness so deep he’d cried like a baby while he begged me to release him.
The barmaid opens the bag and peers inside, and her jaded eyes light up for a beat. Her lips curve in triumph before she schools her expression. “That’ll do,” she says, sliding a key across the counter.
“Second floor, last door on the left. I’ll have the maid take up some wash water for you.”
I know nothing about faerie money—what it’s worth, what I can expect from one of their shining gold coins—but I’ve clearly handed over a significant amount, and she’s trying to play me for a fool. I arch a brow. “I’ll need dinner too.”
She nods quickly. “Of course.”
Too easy. “And some clothes. Pants and a shirt. No dresses.”
Those wrinkled lips twist in consideration. “I’m not in the business of selling clothes, and the tailor’s shop is closed for the night.” At my hard look, she sighs. “But . . .” She looks me over. “You could likely fit into something of mine. I’ll make it work.”
I nod my thanks and slide onto a stool, unsure whether my shaking legs can take another moment.
“I’ll take my meal here.”
She tucks the bag away, then barks at a small child to get my dinner. He scampers off, his head down. When she turns her cold eyes back to me, they grow calculating. “Where are you from?” she asks.
I laugh, but I’m so tired it sounds more like a grunt. “You wouldn’t know the place.”
She arches a brow. “I know most places. Even spent some time in the shadow court during the war.”
I just shrug, figuring she wants those coins too much to insist on an answer. “Nowhere special.”
She sniffs, and I wonder what she smells. Do I still smell like a human despite being turned fae?
Can she smell the palace on me? Faeries have impeccable senses, but in my short hours in this transformed body, I’ve only found the heightened awareness of every sound, sight, and smell distracting. It’s too overwhelming to do any good.
The child returns, noiselessly. The barmaid takes a bowl of stew and a plate of bread from him and slides it in front of me. “As long as you don’t bring trouble to my door, I don’t need to know nothing. Sometimes it’s better that way.” She ducks her head to catch my eyes. “You understand?”
I pause, the first spoonful of stew halfway to my lips. What does she think she knows about me?
“Sure.”
She gives a sharp nod, then moves down the bar to help another customer.
I can hardly hold myself on the stool as I shovel the stew into my mouth. I shouldn’t be this tired, even considering the long day on horseback, but my body’s wrecked. As tempting as it is to ignore my stomach and go to my room, to climb into bed and surrender to sleep, I know I need to fuel myself for whatever’s next.
And what exactly is next?
I push away the question. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do. I need to be away from the palace—away from Sebastian. I can’t think about the rest right now. Not about how unprepared I am to be alone in this strange land, and definitely not about how these pointed ears and this newly granted immortality mean I can never go home.
Never return to Elora.
Never visit my sister.
A heavy orc saunters up to the bar, takes the spot next to me. He’s over six feet tall with a flat nose, beady black eyes, and two big bottom teeth that curl onto each side of his upper lip. He’s massive, and solid muscle, as all orcs are, and his mere proximity makes me feel small and fragile. I bow my head, hoping not to catch his notice. After my encounter with one of his kind an hour ago, I’m not interested in getting this one’s attention.