Chapter 10
The Traveller’s Rest was filled to the rafters.
The swindler’s claims hadn’t been unfounded. It was a charming inn, its stone walls dressed in ivy and wisteria, far beyond what could grow without the aid of a Blessing. A small pond skirted the entrance, teeming with colourful fish that rippled the surface of the water as we passed.
It boasted a spacious common room, fully stocked with a selection of beverages from across Idrix. There was even a keg of amber ale despite its distance from the capital. The kitchen was doing a roaring trade, its swinging doors in constant motion as food was ferried to grateful tables.
Fae nestled in every corner and nook, resting on their journey home from Gladhaven’s monthly market, if the packages crowding the floor were any indication. The patrons compared their extravagant purchases with each other, bragging about the bargains they’d claimed. There were vials of perfumes, painstakingly wrapped garments, and, most strangely of all, an exotic bird that squawked from its gilded cage.
I nursed my drink, my cheeks flushed with the heat of the nearby fireplace, the clammy cold of the rain now a distant memory. We’d hovered near a small table in a quieter corner and pounced when it freed up, deciding we deserved the extra comfort.
The lively chatter of the inn filled my ears as I sank deeper into the cushioned luxury of my armchair, savouring the warmth while it lasted. Silas had insisted on repaying the coins I’d lost, despite my objections. Yet even with the money replenished, I couldn’t justify the cost of a room overnight, not when sleeping outside on my bedroll was free.
My limited funds had at least secured temporary shelter, a brief respite from the harsh wilderness whilst I enjoyed my goblet of moon wine. Made from berries that grew only in moonlight, it had a silky, light flavour that went down far too easily. Silas had looked at me strangely when I’d insisted on an unopened bottle, but with the help of his best smile, the serving girl had fulfilled the request. The awkwardness was worth the reassurance that it was safe to drink, free from tampering, or worse.
A bath wouldn’t have gone amiss. Once we were out of the wet weather, sheltering in the porch of the inn, Silas had used his magic to dry us off, but the caked-on mud stubbornly remained, earning us judgemental looks from the other patrons. It didn’t matter. We were past caring about what we looked like, desperate for a scrap of comfort.
The wine had gone straight to my head. Moon wine was heady stuff, part of why I liked it so much. And with the warmth of the inn’s common room settling in my bones, I felt woozy. Content. Relaxed. I never dared to overindulge, needing to keep my wits about me in case of an unforeseen threat. An inn of unfamiliar fae, while innocuous enough, could soon take a turn for the worst.
Silas looked more at ease than he had in days, watching the inn’s patrons with interest. His brown hair was streaked with dirt and sticking up at odd angles. A chuckle escaped me at the sight, drawing his attention.
“Care to share?” he asked, amused.
“You may wish to consult a mirror before we leave.”
“You’re one to talk. If I wasn’t familiar with your appearance, I wouldn’t know you had silver hair.” I looked down, noticing with dismay that he was right, the ends darkened with dirt.
The corner of my mouth twitched. He shook with the effort of holding back his laughter, finally breaking me. I chuckled, Silas joining me, our laughs loud enough to cause startled glances in our direction.
It felt good to let go of the heaviness of the past few days and enjoy a lighter moment. It had been a long time since I’d been able to laugh so freely.
“You’re not so bad for a noble,” I said, surprising myself with the truth. He was the last fae I should trust, not only a stranger to me, but one of them .
I knew little of my travelling companion. Although his actions had cast no shadow of greed or deception, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t stab me in the back at the first opportunity.
But as time wore on, I was finding fewer excuses to distrust him. A part of me would always be waiting for the betrayal to hit, but was he capable of that?
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what I said to you before.” I swirled the wine in my goblet, too much of a coward to face him directly. “I haven’t had the best experience with nobility, and I took that out on you.”
“No, you were right,” Silas said. “I am na?ve. Do you know what the saddest part is? I don’t have a true friend in the world. If it weren’t for my cousin Valeria, I’d have no one in my corner, but she has her own concerns. It’s unfair to burden her with mine too.”
It all made sense now. His insistence on joining me at the campfire, his exaggerated charm, the way he’d waited for me in Valtarra.
Silas was lonely.
He’d sought companionship, and I’d treated him terribly, suspicious of his motives when they were apparently genuine.
“We have something in common.” I’d been so young when I’d come to the mainland, losing everything I’d ever known. Scouting hadn’t improved things. I had built a network of allies within the Night Ravens, those I trusted beyond anyone else. But none of them resembled a friend. Our bond was forged by a shared dream of what the world could look like, not true friendship.
The easy camaraderie that was blossoming between me and Silas was different. New territory.
“Well, perhaps we can help each other.” He offered his goblet, filled to the brim with moon wine. “Friends?”
Could I trust him?
After a moment’s hesitation, I clinked it with my own. “Sure. Friends.”
We both took a sip in silence. I was unlikely to see him again after this. I would complete my mission and return for my next assignment, while he would continue his adventures, but a friend could be pleasant while it lasted.
“So, friend. Tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, attempting to avoid the topic.
“We have time.” Silas drank his wine, watching me expectantly. I recognised his look of stubborn determination as he lounged in his armchair, refusing to speak until I answered him. He meant what he’d said when saving me from the thieves. Dodging his attempts at conversation wouldn’t be possible.
I fidgeted with my hands, clenching my fingers so tightly they turned white. I always dreaded this topic. “The Tigal Isles.”
Confusion clouded his face. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“I’m not surprised. The curse was quite thorough when it obliterated them.” I prepared myself for the pity the admission usually elicited.
Silas gripped his goblet too tightly, wine sloshing over the rim and spilling onto the table. “I’m so sorry. I never would have asked if I’d known.”
“It was a long time ago.” Though the void it left behind would never disappear.
“What was it like? Before, I mean.”
I let out a breath of relief that he hadn’t wanted to know how it had happened; that was too painful to relive, even now, decades later. He rested a tentative hand on my forearm in a reassuring gesture. I didn’t brush him off, to my surprise.
“It was everything. We would wake gently with the sunrise and spend the morning working. Everyone pitched in. I hunted, my mother crafted things, my father cooked and fished, and my little sister tended to the livestock. My family had a rule of whatever we were doing, we would always eat together. That family time was precious.” I smiled sadly. “In the evenings, when everyone’s work was done, the whole village would gather around a campfire, and we’d sing and dance until we’d lost our voices and our feet ached. Then we’d lay under the stars, lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves. The mainland was so distant, a different world. I didn’t know Blessings existed until I came here. None of us were Blessed and the only contact we had from outside the islands was a merchant boat from Gladhaven once a month, bartering our produce for items we couldn’t make on the island.”
“It sounds wonderful. I wish I could’ve seen it.” While he had good intentions, it was the wrong thing to say. I tugged my arm away from his touch.
“Yes, well, that won’t be happening. There’s nothing left there now from what I’ve been told,” I said.
“You’ve never gone back?” Silas said, watching me curiously.
“Why would I? Would you return if your home was destroyed?”
It was more than that. Seeing it for myself would confirm that it was real. This way, I could pretend my village was still there, just a boat ride away. Somewhere I could go back to one day.
“No, I suppose I wouldn’t.” Silas sat in quiet contemplation, absentmindedly rubbing his fingers against the embossed surface of his goblet.
I’d revealed far more to him than I was comfortable with, coaxed into it by the buzz of the moon wine and the comfort of the common room. I cleared my throat. “How about you? Where is this fancy house of yours?”
“An awful place. You aren’t missing out on much.” He sounded nonchalant about it, but his shoulders tensed up, his jaw set in a firm line. I perked up. That was an interesting reaction.
“Silas,” I grumbled. I wouldn’t let him off that easily.
“If I must.” He sighed, his voice becoming little more than a whisper. “I’m from Eirel.”
I’d suspected he could be that day in the Blossom Sea, but the confirmation still made my eyes widen. I understood his hesitation. The mission I’d undertaken there had given me enough of a glimpse to know it was a harsh place, ill-suited for his good nature.
Eirelean fae were reclusive, hostile to outsiders, and prized power above all else. With Silas receiving his Blessing so late, I couldn’t imagine it was easy for him.
“Fancy house was an understatement in that case. You must be from the Isle of Mist.”
Eirel’s lake divided the nobility, who lived within the shrouded island’s vast castle, and the commoners, whose settlements encircled it. There was no doubt where he resided.
“How did you know that?” His shock was satisfying, but I had no intention of revealing the details of my visit.
“A great manner of things come to light when a ruler dies,” I said, matter of fact.
Silas swallowed thickly, and it struck me that he must have known the lord personally. The rulers of Idrix were so far removed from day-to-day life that it was easy to forget they were fae too. Easy to forget they had lives, and fae who cared about them beyond their official role.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It’s a big castle, more of a town really, with hundreds of noble residences within the walls. Truthfully, I rarely saw the late lord. He was always busy with his High Council.” He watched me carefully. “Since you’re so well-informed, what’s your opinion of his successor?”
I sifted through the gossip I’d overheard, trying to recall what had been said of him. “I’ve heard he’s particularly reclusive, even for an Eirelean. What do you make of him?”
Silas considered his words for a long moment. “He’s new to the role and still finding his feet. He has an impressive legacy to live up to. The late lord had a knack for building alliances and shutting down dissent. Anyone would find that a challenge to follow.”
“Time will tell, I suppose.” I shifted in my seat to face him. “It makes sense now, why you were so keen to head out on an adventure.”
“Does it?” His eyes flashed with interest.
“When a city closes its gates, everyone is quick to assume it’s to shut out outsiders and protect the fae within. No one considers the other possibility. When trapped like that, I imagine the prospect of freedom is alluring.”
“Oh, it became irresistible.” He cocked his head to one side. “I never knew you were so perceptive beneath those claws of yours.”
“There’s more to me than you know,” I said, holding his gaze.
“I look forward to discovering it.” Silas’ mouth curved upwards in a smile.
The air was charged, heavier, as I watched the glow from the fireplace sweep across his face. I sat back in my chair, draining my goblet.
“I’m ravenous. Shall we order some food?” he asked, breaking the spell. His body lifted from the armchair as he peered around the inn in search of a serving girl. One was pouring drinks on the other side of the room, several tables vying for her attention. He summoned her over with a polite wave.
I’d seen the large platters the kitchen served. Generous portions like that wouldn’t be cheap, and I needed to save my coin for the journey ahead. The tantalising scent of fresh bread and hearty stew that swarmed the common room did nothing to help my rumbling stomach.
“I have food,” I said, patting my sack. It wasn’t a lie, but the berries left in there paled in comparison to the inn’s offering.
He surveyed me with a curious gaze, like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve. “I’m feeling rather indecisive today. I’ll choose a few things, and you can do me a favour by helping me eat it all. My treat.”
I protested, but the serving girl had already noticed him. She wove through the throngs of fae that were summoning her to take our order. Silas read out a selection large enough to feed five. My gratitude burned in my throat.
He handed her a pile of coppers, far more than the cost of the meal. When she tried to return some, he closed her hand around it, urging her to keep it. She nodded gratefully.
It wasn’t a sensible move to spend so generously, not when the path ahead was unpredictable, and there was no telling who was watching us in the inn. But just this once, I would ignore the consequences. For once, I would let myself enjoy some home comforts.
I’d misjudged Silas. There was an undeniable goodness to him, one that couldn’t be faked. Perhaps good existed in the world, and I’d been unfortunate to not experience it until now.
I took my first step towards making amends the only way I knew how. “Willow. My name is Willow.”
His answering smile stole my breath.
“Willow,” he repeated, as if testing the way it felt on his tongue. “It suits you.”
“My mother named me. She told me willow trees are strong and can prosper in any conditions, just like I could.” My lip trembled at the thought of her. We were robbed of enough time together, the wound still excruciating.
“She chose well.” He rested his hand on top of mine and I felt every tiny movement, my focus glued to where our hands met.
The serving girl arrived with the feast Silas had ordered, bringing over a few plates at a time. He withdrew his hand to make room for the food, and I mourned the warmth of him.
“Help yourself.” He grabbed a meaty rib from a still-steaming platter and tore into it, abandoning all decorum. I laughed. “What?” he said, his mouth full.
“I’m curious if you learnt those manners on the Isle of Mist.”
“I’d never be invited to a formal gathering again if the nobility could see me now.” He licked his lips clean. I realised I was staring at the same time he did. Dimples broke out from his grin. “Come on. It’ll get cold if you’re not quick.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I wasn’t polite, tearing into the meal with the same ferocity he’d displayed. We ate in comfortable silence, polishing off as much of the food as we could manage.
I couldn’t remember the last time the weight had been lifted from my chest. For once, I wasn’t living and breathing my mission, planning my next steps and tracking my target. I just existed.
I’d never considered what I’d missed out on due to my lifestyle. There had always been a purpose to my life. Growing up, that was hunting, biding my time before I was selected to lead the island’s hunters. Then, after everything happened, it was survival, before the Night Ravens gave me a new purpose. There hadn’t been a chance to dream of anything else.
But here, with Silas, in a warm, comfortable inn, my stomach so full I’d had to loosen my trousers, and the haze of the moon wine still caressing my mind, I dared to dream of more.
“I need some fresh air.” I didn’t wait for his reply before rushing out into the cool evening air, barging past a dawdling group of fae at the inn’s entrance. The breeze sharpened my senses, bringing everything back into focus.
I was alone outside, my only company the gathering fireflies, leaving enchanting trails of light behind them.
Leaning against the wall, I sucked in a deep breath. This was dangerous, more dangerous than any situation I’d faced as a scout. I had an important job to do, one few others were capable of. The Night Ravens relied on me, on my information, to protect our existence. Yet here I was, enticed to want more by a decent meal and a friendly conversation. A fantasy I couldn’t afford to indulge. There was too much at stake.
I thought of Reuben, Sal, my fellow scouts. What they would say. My face burned in shame. Even a novice knew to keep your focus on the mission at all costs.
I marched back into the inn, intending to bid Silas goodnight, ready for a fresh start in the morning. But when I returned to our table, he was gone. In his place was a hastily written note and an old, worn key. Attached to it was a wooden disc engraved with a room number.
I picked up the note in disbelief, reading the elegant handwriting.
Thank you for a magical evening.
Even the strong need a break sometimes.
Rest well,
Silas.
The gesture was far too generous. I couldn’t accept it, especially with nothing to offer in return. But he was nowhere to be found. I swallowed the lump in my throat, clenching the key tightly in my hand as I walked up the stairs to the rooms above the common room.
Silas knew. He’d watched me decline the food, then devour it like a starved wolf. If a meal was out of my budget, he’d realised I’d be forced to huddle under my bedroll in the bitter cold, struggling to light my fire yet again. He’d known that if he’d offered me this directly, I would have declined, spun up some story to save face in front of him.
So he’d waited for the opportune moment to gift me the room, with no expectation of reciprocity.
The only bed I knew aside from my bedroll was my cramped bunk back in the Old Keep, where privacy came from a makeshift curtain. The dormitories were freezing and I could only fall asleep by burying myself under a pile of blankets.
My key led me to a room in desperate need of renovation. The wooden furniture within was chipped with frequent use, the thin curtains did a poor job at covering the window, and green paint peeled from the walls, exposing the plaster beneath. Evidently, the inn’s priority was providing a comfortable resting place for patrons looking for a warm meal, the same effort not extended for overnight guests.
I nearly sobbed at the sight of the bed. The lumpy straw mattress would undoubtedly itch my skin through the cheap linens, and it had seen better days, but it was a proper bed, large enough to sleep two. There was no greater luxury after a week of sleeping on the cold, hard ground. And I had the entire place to myself, no snoring to keep me awake, no being disrupted by a creaky door opening all night. Just me.
It was the greatest gift I’d ever been given.
I took full advantage of the prepared tub despite the lukewarm temperature of the water, submerging myself without hesitation.
The day’s events had been unexpected, to say the least. Silas’ links to Eirel raised some questions about my new friend. The Eirelean commoners I’d eavesdropped on during my mission had little love for the nobility. I’d seen my fair share of villagers beaten by the city guard for a less than complementary remark.
But he didn’t possess their cold, detached cruelty. He wore his heart on his sleeve, his emotions easy to read. Then there had been his unwavering generosity in the face of my hostility.
Nothing added up.
I scrubbed my dirty skin until it was red, the water turning a murky brown once I’d washed off all the mud. Afterwards, I sank into the bed, my hair still wet, unable to recall the last time I’d felt so content. I drifted off as soon as my head hit the pillow, sleeping more soundly than I had in years.
Silas didn’t know what he’d done for me. I would never forget it.