Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
Pietersite
The tavern is small and dark. My boots catch on the floor, a sticky substance coating every inch. An array of things assaults my senses by the time the door closes behind me—the smell of wheat wafting over from the narrow bar, hearty laughter, the crackling of wood in the fireplace.
Flames gutter, casting shivering shadows on the pocked tabletops scattered across the room, illuminating hands wrapped around mugs of ale and plates filled with grains.
Chairs are squeezed side by side around each table, but it still isn’t enough—some patrons lean against the wall or sit in the laps of others.
From the outside, it seemed quiet and empty, a perfect place to lie low for the night.
Graylen stiffens beside me, his eyes drifting through the crammed bar. Over every filled chair, every occupied barstool.
“No one recognizes me,” Adrian whispers absentmindedly. “They look at me as if I’m just another traveler.”
His gaze snaps from person to person, as if looking for someone.
But no one spares him a second glance; in fact, everyone carries on without sparing one glance.
A flash of disappointment flares in Adrian’s eyes when he realizes no one looks at him—which is for the best, being this far out from the castle.
I huff at his sagging shoulders and deep frown.
Why would they recognize him? We couldn’t be farther from the castle, and most of these people likely haven’t traveled far from their town. I’ve never heard of Adrian or his father taking tours through the kingdom, let alone venturing away from their precious castle.
They don’t have a reason to think this man is the king, and he can’t seem to understand that this is a good thing. We don’t need unwanted attention—the more surprised Moros is that we’re here, the better.
“You managed just fine through the market dressed as a beggar not that long ago,” I remind him. “And that was beside the castle.”
“I was wearing a hood,” he mumbles.
My nostrils flare. Even now, he can’t admit it’s because he’d rather stay within the comfort of his precious, comfy castle than be around his people.
Adrian coughs and says, “Maybe it would help if the owners knew I was—”
“No,” Graylen growls over his shoulder. “We’re supposed to be blending in.”
I push past both of them and squeeze into an open space at the bar, leaning over the sticky wood to wave down the barkeep.
The barkeep gives me a silent nod, pouring a cup of ale as he rattles off his prices.
“Not much room for a drink tonight. Kitchen’s open late, but it’ll cost ya extra. I’ve got one room with four cots in it and—”
“Two,” I rush out, imagining being stuck in a room with Adrian.
I don’t think I would last five minutes before using my magic to stop his incessant talking.
Not to mention, Graylen and I haven’t had time to ourselves since I got him back.
I need to talk to him, to feel his warmth beside me. “Two rooms.”
A brush of appreciation sneaks down our connection, and I let it in, opening the bond wider and allowing him in. His pinky finds mine, our fingers winding together for a brief moment.
The barkeep grunts as he slides an ale over the bar to a customer. He immediately begins pouring another. “Twenty silvers then,” he says gruffly. “Two more each if you want supper.”
I turn to Adrian, brows raised as I wait for him to pay. He grinds his teeth together, but fishes the coin out of his vest and slides it over to the barkeep.
“Grab a seat if you can find one and we’ll bring out tonight’s special.”
My stomach twists at the mention of food—not from hunger, but from the uneasy feeling of imagining sitting down to eat anything right now. More than anything, I want to be alone with Graylen. Though I might not be hungry, the same can’t be said for my company.
I sneak a glance at Graylen, at his dull skin and hollow eyes.
He must feel me watching him, because he looks down at me, a smirk on his face that looks so much like his old self it nearly sends me to my knees.
But the old Graylen didn’t sway on his feet from going so long without food; he didn’t have chunks of dirt and blood in his hair.
Sitting in a noisy bar isn’t going to help him much, either.
“I’ll wait here for the food,” I tell the barkeep, my eyes fixed on Graylen’s. My hand slides onto his cheek, and I whisper, “Wait in the room for me.”
The muscles of his jaw flex beneath my palm, a war raging in his gaze.
“Where you go, I go, little princess,” he murmurs into my mind.
A shiver crawls down my spine. I can feel Adrian and the barkeep watching us—waiting.
“If you pass out, you won’t be going anywhere.” I raise a brow as I send the words through our connection. “I won’t be long.”
It takes an act of Eurydice for me to slip my hand away from his face, my palm prickling at the loss of his skin against mine. When I turn back to the barkeep, I find him eyeing us with curiosity.
“We’ll take those rooms now,” I say quickly.
He gives me a curt nod and scoops the coin off the bar top. We follow him up a narrow staircase to where he shows Adrian his room on the second level and, finally, mine and Graylen’s on the third.
The room is small, with barely enough space for the worn bed with wooden posts and a cloth-covered chair in the corner. On the opposite side, an open doorway leads to a washroom with a single tub in the center.
I make a mental note to ask the barkeep for warmed water to bring up later when I see Graylen stare longingly at it.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” My voice is too loud in this cramped room, the walls empty and causing my words to ring in the air.
Graylen’s shoulders tense, but he nods silently and leans against the frame of the washroom door. His hands slip into his pockets, but not before I see the tremble in his fingers. He looks away from me, his gaze focusing on the tub again.
“I’ll be here,” he rasps.
My feet stay stuck in place as I watch him, terrified that he won’t be here when I come back. Every time I close my eyes, images of him in the Vale flash into my mind, haunting me with his blood-streaked face and empty gaze.
But none of what I feel compares to what he must be experiencing—the things that haunt his thoughts.
He’s here, right in front of me, but I can’t stop myself from imagining coming back to an empty room. Imagining that’ll I’ll lose him again—this time for good. I blink rapidly as ice spreads through my chest, squeezing my heart painfully.
I’m going to kill Vidaris. Not only to save the souls she snatched out of my trial, but for Graylen.
His eyes glaze over, growing distant. A look I know. One Opal used to describe me having after a particularly rough night with Reichardt’s mind games keeping me awake. I remember what I felt when she would point it out.
I felt nothing. Numb. It was how I learned to shove down any painful emotions to stop myself from truly feeling anything hurtful. And now Graylen has that look, too.
I wrap my arms around myself, a rush of tears filling my eyes.
Before he can see, I spin around and shuffle out of the room, the tears flowing freely as I sprint down the stairs to get food for us.
The last thing I want is to let my emotions take control.
My mind needs to be clear for Graylen—and to make sure Vidaris pays for what she did to him.