“Fine.”
“Fine.”
The inn was located on the outskirts of town—the peeling white paint seeming to glow in the moonlight. The two-storied building boasted a thatched roof, a crumbling picket fence, and a huge wooden door with a brass knocker.
A drunk stumbled out of that door, laughing uproariously, and I flicked my gaze to the surprisingly large stable situated next to the inn.
People were coming and going, stable hands taking horses from those arriving. Once again, no one paid us any attention.
I slid off the horse, my knees twinging as I hit the ground. Lorian handed the horse off to one of the grooms with a few murmured words, and the others did the same. Within a few minutes, we were walking into the inn.
The warmth of the inn hit me, finally warming bones I swore were still half frozen from that god-awful river, and my eyelids immediately grew heavy.
Someone let out a screaming laugh. I jumped, gazing around blearily, and Lorian placed his hand on my lower back. I suspected he was attempting to calm me the same way he would calm his horse directly after he’d startled.
I didn’t know whether to be offended or amused.
To our left, a fire roared. Its sparks escaping the hearth, the orange-blue light from the flames flickering on the faces of those dining at the scarred wooden tables. The tables in the center of the common room had been wedged so close together, it was as if everyone was dining as one big family.
Considering I was in hiding, I would much prefer a dimmer room and separate tables.
In the corner, the barkeep was boiling a cauldron of stew. The steam from the huge pot made its way over to me, carrying with it the scent of fresh-baked bread and some kind of gamey meat. My stomach howled.
Lorian took my arm and directed me to a table near the back of the common room, where he sat positioned with his back against the wall. I was too tired to protest the manhandling, and I slipped into the chair next to him, keeping my cloak over my head.
I tuned out the conversation as the men murmured to one another. My eyes must have slid closed, because a nudge from Lorian’s elbow had them shooting open. Rythos smirked at me. “Sleepy?”
Someone plonked a bowl of stew and a cup of ale in front of me. I handed the ale to Rythos. I’d never gotten a taste for it. Now, wine, on the other hand…
I drank the last of my water, the warmth of the room and salt in the stew stoking my thirst. Tucking the skin back into my cloak, I got to my feet. Lorian’s hand immediately caught my arm in that enchanting way he did, which never failed to make me feel like his prisoner.
“Where are you going?”
“To get water. Release me,” I ground out, suddenly frustrated. I was almost desperate with thirst, and the sooner I finished my stew, the sooner I could crawl into bed.
Lorian let my arm go, and I crossed the inn, aiming for the barkeep. He nodded when I asked for water and pointed me toward a pitcher and several cups. I took a cup, relatively sure the men would much prefer their ale.
Still, I probably should have offered.
I turned, slamming into a giant chest.
“Well, lookee here.” The man grinned at me maniacally. The lower half of his face was almost completely covered in a dark-gray beard which he’d let grow down to his chest. His hand shot out, pushing the hood of my cloak off my face. With my cup in one hand and my reflexes dull from weariness, I was too slow to stop him.
“We have a wee beauty in our midst. Where did you come from, lady?”
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. Without my hood over my head, I felt naked. Would he recognize me?
I forced my voice to stay steady. “Nowhere you’ll know. Let me pass.”
“Now that’s not nice. That cloak is made of a fine material. Your dress could use a cleaning though. I’d be more than happy for you to drop it onto the floor of my room to be laundered—”
“Move,” a low voice ordered.
I glanced past the bearded man to where Lorian stood, his irritation clear. Our eyes met, and my face burned. The next time I wanted to walk ten paces away from him, he would likely refuse, like the tyrant he was.
The unfairness of it all made my hands shake with fury. Some of the water sloshed over the side of my cup, and Beard dropped his gaze.
“Now see what you’ve done? You’ve frightened the little bird.”
Lorian followed his gaze. Then his eyes met mine again. He knew I wasn’t frightened.
“Move, or I’ll move you.” The words were flat, but I’d seen Lorian take that exact stance right before he trained with his men.