Chapter Twenty Eight
After we were all dressed, we made our way back to the Inn for a meal.
It didn't take long to secure a table or to have bowls laden with steaming meat and rice, and cups sloshing over with firemead, delivered.
The tavern within the Inn was bustling with energy as I noticed some of the merchants from earlier dined here as well.
The food was delicious and well seasoned, but I figured anything would’ve tasted heavenly after the rations Gianni had been feeding us while travelling.
My eyes trailed over the occupied tables closest to us and someone familiar caught my focus. The girl with hair the color of steel sat not far from us, her father—I presumed—sitting across from her.
What held my attention, however, was the three men that surrounded their table.
At first I simply assumed they were asking about the show, but I saw the sullen look dull the girl's face as she shoveled food into her mouth, ignoring the three Solerians that surrounded them.
Her fathers expression was calm, blank, but I could see the agitation that flickered in his eyes.
My head tilted slowly, predatory as I saw the man reach out to tug one of the girl's braids and before I knew it I was standing, bowl and cup in hand.
The group followed my line of sight and Bran let out a low groan. "Sy, don't."
I ignored him as I walked with purpose, my stride determined as I reached their table.
My bowl slapped down against the wood, cup following suit as I slid into the chair beside the girl—strategically placing myself in between her and the man.
I let one of my daggers slide forth from where it lay hidden in my sleeve and laid it next to my meal before I finally looked up.
"Is there a problem here?" My voice was saccharine.
The one who had tugged her hair gave me an arrogant grin as his gaze roamed over me, eyes lingering upon my chest before dancing back up. "No problem, we were simply inquiring after the show they put on earlier."
Prick.
I turned my attention to the father, completely dismissing the pig. He appraised me with wary eyes, but relief seemed to shine in his dark gaze. "What a coincidence, I too wanted to speak of the show. I thought it was brilliant."
"Brilliant?" One of the others scoffed, his voice low and angry. “It was an insult. Everyone knows The Fever came from their kind, not the Nine Hells."
My smile never faltered. "Is that not just another tale? As this one was? We mere mortals don't truly know the minds and intentions of demon princes and the Goddesses, do we?"
That seemed to baffle them enough for a silence to fall, but it only lasted for a blissful few heartbeats.
"Regardless, they should know better than to spill such filth in the desert," the first man growled, his voice twisting with loathing. "The only good place for a Luanthian in this kingdom is on the front lines or warming the brothel beds."
He reached around me once more for the girl's braid, and within a second my dagger was in hand, pressing against his wrist. The shadows stirred, a violent seething thing that pushed and swarmed at his words, his actions.
Cut out his tongue for his insolence.
Drag him through the desert until his skin is torn upon the sand.
Drown him in the depths of the sea and leave him at the Moon Goddess’s mercy.
I was still, every muscle taut as I looked up to meet his snarl, my voice soft and slow. "I've heard that in the desert if a man touches a woman without her consent, he loses his hand. Would you like to find out if it's true?"
He leaned in closer, his breath reeking of alcohol and something rotten. “She's but a girl, not a woman."
Before I could speak a low voice interrupted, "Which makes the assault all the worse. Perhaps you should cut off his prick instead, little menace."
My focus didn't leave the man, but I knew who had approached.
Before he had even spoken, I knew, as if his presence itself was something that demanded my attention.
He sat diagonally from me, next to the father of the girl.
I watched as the disgusting eyes of the man I held at the edge of my blade shifted to take in the newcomer, saw them widening as unbridled fear filled his expression.
A predatory part deep within, an almost instinctual piece of myself preened at that fear. At who was the cause of it.
Did they recognize him?
"Perhaps they'd like to go outside," my voice a purr. “It seems as though they fear you more than me, Captain."
"A miscalculation on their parts, surely."
I nearly laughed at that, chest warming with delight as I finally lowered the knife, my gaze never leaving that of the man.
I saw it before he even moved, the way his eyes fixated, his muscles shifting.
So when his hand flew out to slap across my face I was ducking, my shoulder driving into his gut.
The crashing of his large frame had silence enveloping the Inn, but I didn't care.
The rage was too consuming, vengeance singing through my veins. Let them watch. Let them see.
How many of our people has he hurt?
The shadows were wrath and darkness in my mind.
How many of our women have these hands touched?
How many of our men has he slain?
The dagger was still clenched in my grasp and when his hulking frame tried to buck me off, I slammed it into his hand.
The roar he let loose shuddered through my body—fueling the bloodlust that rained upon me.
Yanking it free, I wiped it down his shirt, slowly, methodically, before I brought it up to his neck.
Leaning in close to his ear I whispered, "Leave and know that if you ever touch a Luanthian girl, or any girl for that matter, without their permission again, I will hear of it.
I will hear of it and I will hunt you down and string you up by your innards to be a lesson for all.
You do not touch a woman who doesn't wish to be touched.
" My voice dropped lower, tone bordering on seductive as I jerked my head towards Roan. He was standing, blades drawn, the tip of each one pointed at the man’s companions.
“And he will help me. He could drown you on land without so much as a thought in his mind, but do not be fooled. It's my wrath you should fear."
I pressed the blade deeper into the tender part of his neck before I released him with a snarl, standing with ease I leaned back against the table, dagger twirling as he stumbled to his feet. Silence still reigned, all eyes fixed on the confrontation.
He looked at me with utter loathing. I simply watched, a brow raised, a smirk upon my lips as I waited. If they wished to fight then I would.
"Out!" A shrill voice cried and I glanced to see a woman well into middle age bustling towards us, a wooden spoon in hand. “We will have no fighting in this establishment. Out, the lot of you!"
Despite Gianni's charm and claiming that the men had goaded me into defending myself, the Innkeeper would have none of it. I was not welcome to stay the night there, so Gianni instead made separate accommodations.
"You've got to be kidding me," I grumbled, rubbing tiredly at my face.
We stood outside the stables the Tolokok currently resided in.
Gianni shrugged, gesturing at the entrance. “After the stunt you pulled it's either you sleep in the hay or out in the sand for the night, your pick."
I sniffed indignantly. “What else should I have done? He wouldn't leave them alone—"
Gianni held up a hand, his dark eyes glimmering with amusement. "I take no issue with your blade piercing his hand, it's the least he deserved. However, Miriam will be the one washing the blood from her floors tonight, so she has a right to be cross with you."
“Roan pulled his blades too.” I was being petulant, I knew it. I’d been so looking forward to a warm bed.
“Roan didn’t stab a man.”
Sighing my acceptance, I slipped past him and into the stables. The soft huffs of sleeping Tolokoks greeted my ears as I found Aziza’s stall. Her scaled head lifted as her forked tongue flicked out, licking the sleep from her dry eyes. I grimaced.
“Mind if I bunk with you tonight, sweet girl?” I crooned, the words filled with the promise of extra dried berries. An angry snort and lashing of her massive tail had me stumbling back, quickly righting myself, my pride stinging. “Well fine then, be that way you cold-blooded beast."
Instead of rooming with the Tolokok who clearly wanted space for the night, I spotted a pile of fresh hay in the back of the keep.
With a huff I flung myself back into it and attempted to get comfortable.
Fingers trailing over the tip of one of the daggers, the one that had pierced the hand of that man, I wondered if I’d truly gone too far.
Had that all consuming wrath been my own, or the shadows?
I’d need to expel a bit of the magic soon.
My rage was always too quick to spark when I kept it contained for too long.
You should have gone further, little shadow.
I scowled slightly as they slithered through my thoughts, thick and ominous with contempt. They always pushed me, fed and fanned my anger until it was raging fire within. An inferno of vengeance and injustice.
We are but of one mind.
They hissed.
We cannot create what is not already there.
Do not fear us for we are you.
Do not blame us for we do not create what you feel.
Your mind is your own. We are merely an extension of your desires, your magic.
We are you.
"You are not me."
I slammed down upon them, fortifying that mental barrier I had been building all my life. I felt the anger as they whirled within, furious at the rejection, but I gritted my teeth, pushing back until there was silence.
Pure and blissful nothingness.
Stiffening at a sudden noise, I stilled, head tilting as I listened closely.
There it was again. The crunch of sand beneath boots.