Chapter 13 Prince Sloth
THIRTEEN
Prince Sloth
THE brAWL HAD shifted like a restless tide to the other side of the tavern, leaving only a few stragglers for me to push out of my path.
I dodged a flying barstool, narrowly avoiding a hit to the head, as it crashed into a window on the opposite end of the room.
Perhaps this was some new hell realm. One where drunks remained locked in a never-ending battle at all hours of the day. With luck, they’d pummel each other into unconsciousness and things would be quiet soon.
I avoided more flying furniture and made it back to the bartender without engaging with anyone else.
He raised his brows, probably surprised I’d waded back in this soon. He wasn’t the only one.
“Room not up to your standards?”
I slapped two extra gold coins down, not in the mood for small talk.
“The lady is thirsty. Send extra lager up with our meal.”
He scooped up the coins, then jerked his chin at me.
“Give me a minute.”
I exhaled. Now I was to be a guard and a barmaid.
This had to be a waking nightmare tailored specifically for me.
My brothers would tease me for the next century if they ever caught wind of this.
I wanted to find a quiet corner to meditate on the events of the evening but refrained. A strong pulse of magic slammed into me, followed immediately by a hunger for power, desire, darkness, and chaos.
I went on immediate alert. I knew that feeling.
My attention swept across the room and halted. A man with dark hair and a familiar build shoved his way toward the back exit of the bar.
He held an object to his chest. Something that looked like an old book.
Xavier.
I charged across the space, dodging a few errant blows, but he darted out the door before I could get a good look.
The remaining fighters successfully blocked my path for a moment, and I shoved my way through, swearing.
I didn’t see his face clearly, but with the number of people in this cramped space standing in the way, that wasn’t surprising. I didn’t need to see him to recognize that dark power calling to me like a beacon.
Xavier wouldn’t get far unless the book masked his escape.
I finally elbowed my way to the door and burst onto the street.
It was quiet. Unnaturally so.
Lanterns flickered a few blocks down, but no pedestrians were out.
I stared at the empty street, the fine hair along my body rising. I sensed there was someone there, but I couldn’t see them. The Liber Noctem was cloaking the area. It had to be.
I inhaled deeply, allowing my heightened senses to search for Xavier’s scent. But if he was still here, I found no trace of him.
I tried to summon my own power, but even with my heightened senses, I couldn’t see through the glamour the book cast. Still, it had to have made a mistake. No illusion was perfect.
I knelt and scanned the path for any clue to the direction Xavier had run, but the cobblestones gave no secrets away.
I strode along the empty streets for a while, but my master librarian was well and truly gone.
The book must have wanted me to know it was near, for what purpose, I wasn’t sure.
But it succeeded in unsettling me. It had just upped the game, and for the first time in my life, I was hunting a worthy foe.
I headed back to the tavern, feeling that peculiar simmering rage igniting once again. The Book of Nightmares had been close.
And now all that was left was its dark, twisted magic taunting me.
Most of the fighters had worn themselves out, so I had less trouble entering the tavern now. By the time I crossed the room and made it to the bar, my cold, emotional shield was firmly in place.
The bartender plopped two frothy mugs of golden ale on the counter before me, the foam cascading down the sides.
It smelled surprisingly good, so I didn’t comment on his atrocious manners.
With a slight nod of thanks, I collected the beer and headed back up the stairs, bypassing a floor with two more rooms, both occupied by either lovers or more brawlers, judging by the sounds and grunts coming from them.
I kicked at the door. “It’s me.”
Instead of footsteps crossing the room, I heard a splash and a muffled curse.
“It’s open!”
I closed my eyes, set a mug down on the ground, silently counted to ten, then opened the unlocked door.
I bent down to retrieve the second lager and forced myself to remain calm. Anyone could have snuck into the room and slit her throat, even her beloved Blaze with the dimples. Now that I was certain the Book of Nightmares had tracked us to this story, we needed to remain on guard.
“I thought we agreed that you would lock—”
A small copper tub greeted me in the center of the small room along with a cheerful-looking Lore splashing around in it.
Water steamed from a brass tap that I wouldn’t have expected in a place like this, and the crisp scent of neroli and basil soap washed over me.
Lore had pinned her hair up and was soaking up to her neck, her mouth curving in delight when her attention landed on the drinks.
“You got some! Is it the most delicious lager you’ve ever tasted?”
Her hands shot out of the water in a not-so-subtle request, and the bar of soap she’d been holding went flying over the side.
She didn’t seem to notice the sudsy projectile as it bounced and slid under the bed, then rocketed back to the tub.
I stopped it with the heel of my boot.
What an utterly ridiculous sight.
I quickly schooled my expression.
“You realize how vulnerable you are in the tub with the door open, correct?”
She shot me an exasperated look. As if my preparedness was tedious instead of practical.
“The door was unlocked, not open. And you were right downstairs, probably glowering at everyone. Try not to worry so much or you’ll get wrinkles.”
Ignoring the fact that I was immortal and wouldn’t age, I released a sigh. At least she was making use of the tub I’d paid extra coin for.
She gestured impatiently at me again and I handed the lager over.
The carnal sound that came out of her after that first sip made the slumbering sinner in me sit up and take notice.
After my aggravation at losing Xavier and the book all over again, her antics were almost a welcome distraction.
“That good?” I asked, arching a brow.
She closed her eyes and sank back, letting the water slosh over the sides of the tub again.
She was a complete menace to the hardwoods.
I fought the urge to grab a towel and clean it up.
“Definitely worth braving the brawl and goblin cannibal for.”
“You were hidden behind me,” I pointed out, “almost the entire time.”
“Don’t dull my sparkle, Blondie. I landed a few impressive kicks.”
“If you’re this impressed by this lager, you should try the winter ale in my brother’s court.”
She gave me a devious smile. “Inviting me to meet your family already? And here I thought you barely liked me.”
“You’re impossible,” I grumbled.
“Impossible not to like.” She waved a soapy arm around, sending more suds flying. I eyed up the linen towel again.
She narrowed her gaze on my face.
“You’re going to have a black eye. Why aren’t you healing as fast as you did before?”
I reached up and winced. My face was still tender from the hit.
“I don’t know.”
And that was grating.
I didn’t know if it was being in Somnia for an extended period of time that was starting to negatively impact my magic, or if it was the influence of the Trials.
No matter what the cause was, I’d need to pay close attention to it.
I scanned the small room.
Aside from the tub and comically small bed, a lone window perched high in the peaked ceiling and there was an attached room no larger than a closet that I imagined was for relieving ourselves.
Bathing chamber was a generous term.
I was starting to think I’d overpaid in gold.
Lore seemed perfectly content, though. She hummed to herself as she sipped lager and bathed. My attention drifted around the space again.
The pathway between the bed, tub, and watering closet was a mere foot or so, leaving no room for me to sleep on the floor later.
Not that that mattered after how we’d spent our previous evening.
Though it wasn’t exactly the same since she’d been unconscious and dying and I’d ended up run through with my own blade.
It was an issue for later.
I grabbed my lager and moved to the mattress, its edge dipping low and creaking in protest as I sat and finally took a sip of my drink.
A rich vanilla flavor burst over my tongue.
I didn’t mimic having an orgasm like Lore, but it was remarkably good. Gluttony would order several pitchers and down them in moments.
Lore watched me with wry amusement as she sipped hers again.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, taking the bait.
“For a sinner, you sure do avoid any signs of pleasure. I bet your brothers tease you relentlessly.” She studied me again. “You probably bring books to parties and spew facts instead of making small talk.”
It was rather chilling how accurately she’d nailed me. I loathed the banality of small talk.
I leaned forward as if I was about to impart a great secret.
Lore couldn’t resist. She drew closer, her attention rapt.
“Thinking of my brothers so soon after our exciting morning, Peaches?” I tsked. “And here I thought I was special.”
A pleasant flush spread up her neck and face.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My magic buzzed. She knew exactly what I was referencing.
Teasing her was oddly pleasurable, but there were more pressing things for us to discuss, like the sudden reappearance of the Liber Noctem and what that meant. And what had happened right as we’d shifted into this new story.
But instead of doing that, my mind suddenly began replaying the way I’d awoken to— I smothered the rest of that thought and envisioned myself in a room without windows or doors.
No emotions reached me there. No desire.
I focused on the goals: winning the Trials, securing the book, returning home.
I took another sip of my ale.
“When we first arrived here, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”