Chapter 26 Azahara #3
“Three rooms, secured.” Kaed’s voice broke through the moment, prompting Azahara to turn her attention to him. His gaze was fixed on Illyan, who wore a mischievous Cheshire grin, while Kaed appeared wary.
“Everything okay?” Zhal chimed in, addressing the noticeable tension. “Kaed seems sour, Illyan, what did you do?” It was remarkable how well Zhal already understood Kaed.
“You all should be thanking me,” Illyan began while Kaed moving closer to Azahara and taking her hand in his. “Not only did I secure three rooms, but I also got us the best, fanciest ones.”
Kaed emitted an exasperated groan. “At what cost?”
Zhal glanced at Azahara and shrugged.
“I can compensate you,” Azahara offered, turning her attention back to Kaed. “I’ve got plenty...” However, Kaed’s narrowed gaze at Illyan made it clear that the Fae had done something more than just spend too much coin.
“Fae, spill it,” Zhal demanded, putting an end to the back-and-forth.
“Uhh,” Illyan began, but was abruptly pushed forward as someone came through the door.
“Where is she?” A tall, heavily built man suddenly inserted himself between the four of them.
Kaed tightened his grip on her hand, signaling for her to move away.
However, it quickly became evident that the man had different intentions.
He locked his piercing brown eyes with hers and aggressively lunged in her direction.
A stifled gasp caught in her throat as she struggled to breathe. Zhal and Kaed moved to shield her, halting the man’s advance. “Move,” he ordered, his deep and booming voice even surpassing the Vaeragi’s in depth.
“Listen, don’t touch her.” Kaed spoke with unexpected calm, which even surprised Zhal, leaving her staring at him in shock.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Zhal emphasized, her tone laden with a clear warning.
“Zhal,” Kaed addressed her. “This is Broan, the owner of the Idle Fox. He knows Azahara from a few years ago.”
A soft gasp was all Azahara managed before casting a terrified glance at Illyan. She mouthed, “I’m going to kill you.”
Kaed reluctantly stepped aside, but Zhal stood her ground. “It’s okay,” Azahara said with minimal enthusiasm. “Hi, Broan.” Those few words were enough for Broan to circle around the Vaeragi and wrap his large arms around her and lifting her high.
“By the gods! We thought you had died!” He squeezed her tightly, and although discomfort washed over her, she forced a smile. “Everyone will be so excited you’re here. Come in, come in.” She swallowed and nodded.
Instead of releasing her, Broan slung her over his shoulder and barged through the doors of the Idle Fox. “Guys! Everyone, Azahara is home!” He dropped her, and she stumbled backward. The sensation of dozens of eyes on her made her break into a cold sweat.
She felt nauseous.
Frantically, Azahara scanned the crowded room, but her group had yet to enter or had gotten lost in the sea of people rushing to see her. Voices swirled around her.
“The Fox has returned! Oh my gosh! We thought you had died!”
“It’s been what, five years?
“Where have you been, beau?”
“My god, you haven’t aged a day!
“I’ve missed you!”
Everyone was speaking at once, and she couldn’t distinguish who was saying what or who was touching her.
Panic tightened around her wrists, and her body began to tremble, the sensation rattling her bones.
I can’t breathe. She thought, her legs growing weak and shaking. Someone, help me. Help me.
“Hey, hey, give the girl some space!” A loud, authoritative voice cut through the cacophony.
Her breathing was labored when a man wearing the White Cloaks’ signature armor and cloak approached her. His hand gently rested on her shoulder and lifted her gaze. She hadn’t even realized she was bent over.
“Are you okay?” His tone was kind, and she looked up to see his face.
He was a striking human, with light hazel eyes, tawny skin, and raven-black hair. His forehead bore no fine lines, and his skin was devoid of wrinkles. He was drop-dead gorgeous.
The surprise on the guard’s face quickly vanished as their eyes met. She shook her head subtly, silently mouthing, “Help.”
“Okay, everyone back up,” he commanded, snaking his arm around her shoulder to create a protective barrier between them and the persistent onlookers. “I said back up!”
“Get back!” Zhal’s voice thundered through the tavern, causing a collective freeze. But the guard remained unfazed.
“Come on,” he whispered, taking advantage of the distraction Zhal had caused to guide her swiftly toward the bar. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to burst as her back met the wall, jolting her back to reality.
As she looked up, the guard’s back initially blocked her view, his bleach-white cloak almost too bright for her eyes.
He turned around, and his hand gently lifted her chin to make her face him. “Did they hurt you?” Azahara instinctively jerked away from his touch.
The sheer surprise on his face caught her off guard. “Oh, gods, I’m sorry,” he stammered, stepping back and rubbing his neck sheepishly. “That was forward of me. I was just checking to make sure you were okay.”
She swallowed, her gaze darting away from him, spotting Zhal approaching.
He moved back towards her, and she quickly returned her gaze to him. “I-I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have pulled away. You were just being nice. I’ll be okay.” Her arms wrapped around herself as she leaned against the wall.
“It’s okay.” His hand pressed against the wall behind her, once again forming a protective barrier between her and the crowd. He had to bend forward as he was significantly taller than her. “Do you know them?”
Zhal was now just feet away from them. “I do. I just have a bad memory.”
“Move, cloak boy.” Initially, he didn’t budge, seemingly unfazed by the massive Vaeragi looming behind him. It was only when Azahara leaned towards Zhal that he finally stepped aside. “I’ll kill the Fae; you say the word.”
Her lip trembled, and she whispered, “It’s fine.” Zhal tenderly pulled her against her chest, one hand resting at her back while the other stroked down her hair.
“No, it is not. You’re too kind and—” Zhal abruptly stopped her sentence, causing Azahara to lean back to see that the guard still had his eyes trained on her. “You can leave now,” Zhal said, her tone devoid of kindness.
He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m only here to help.” He bowed his head. “If you need anything, my name is Jayce. It’s a pleasure…” His hand reached for hers, and she looked down at it. She narrowed her eyes and looked between his hazel eyes.
“Azahara.”
Loaf or Slice?
She shook her head and put a shaky hand in his. He kissed her knuckles. “Thank you, Jayce, but I’ll be fine.” Meeting his unwavering gaze, she held it. To her surprise, he didn’t look away.
He didn’t appear intimidated by them, as most people did.
Zhal quickly took her hand from Jayce’s and guided her away.
They ascended the four flights of stairs in a hurry.
Azahara didn’t need to turn back to know that Jayce’s eyes lingered on her.
It wasn’t until they reached the first landing that the feeling of his gaze burning into her back finally disappeared.
How had I not written about my time here…