16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
A warm glow from the hearth illuminates the tavern. Some men sit at the bar, where the barkeep fills their tankards. Others sit spread out across the wooden tables, talking over a hot meal.
I step forward but stop when I don’t feel Viridian behind me.
Turning to him, I see him standing in the doorway. His smile is gone, replaced by stitched brows and a tight mouth.
“What is it?” I ask, lowering my voice. “Is something wrong? ”
“Nothing, it’s—” he pauses. “I don’t know how to go about this.”
“Don’t worry,” I tell him, waving my hand. “I’ll do the talking. I know how humans gossip.”
“Well, that, too, but that’s not what I meant.”
I cock my head. “Then what did you mean?”
“Do we…” he gestures at the tables. “Do we simply walk in and sit down?”
My eyes close briefly when my lips perk up. All my life, I’ve thought the noble fae were free from fear or uncertainty. That they were so sure of everything. But here he is, the Crown Prince of all Inatia, a fae belonging to one of the five Noble Houses, unsure of himself when entering a tavern.
Perhaps humans and fae aren’t so different after all.
“Yes,” I say, taking Viridian’s hand. “Come with me.”
He nods, his rich amber eyes staring back at me. His expression relaxes, though his brows still knit together.
I pull him deeper into the tavern and sit at one of the empty tables near the center.
“I’ll be right there,” a woman calls, carrying a tray of tankards to a nearby table.
I smile back at her with a wave. Viridian stiffens, watching her as she goes.
“It’s all right.” I put my hand on his arm. “There aren’t any rules here. No etiquette to keep track of.”
At my touch, the tension in his body melts away. His eyes find mine again, and it feels like we’re the only ones in the tavern. As if everything else has faded away.
“Hello,” the woman says when she approaches our table, wiping her hands on her dirty apron. “What can I get for you two?”
“Two ales and hot meals, please,” I tell her.
“Can do.” The woman nods. “I’ll be back with those shortly.”
I smile again before she leaves. Viridian is silent, expression wary.
“Relax,” I tell him. “No one here knows who you are.”
That seems to ease him a bit.
“Give me your coin purse,” I say, holding out my hand.
“Why?” The tension returns to Viridian’s jaw. A flicker of distrust.
“I’m not going to take the money and run,” I explain. Part of me flinches at his lack of faith in me, but I understand it. If I were in his place, that thought would cross my mind, too. “Contrary to what you might think, information isn’t free.”
He holds my stare for a moment, before producing the coin purse from his pocket and placing it in my palm.
“Wait here.” I stand, gesturing over my shoulder. “I’ll talk to the barkeep.”
He nods.
I weave through the tables until I reach the bar. Those men are still there. Now that I’m closer, I see there are two of them, both knee-deep in their ale. The barkeep stands with his arms crossed but lowers them when he sees me .
“What can I get for ya?” he asks.
“Nothing at the moment,” I reply, leaning on the bar with my hands clasped. “I just want to talk.”
“All right,” the barkeep says. His body language tells me that he’s used to this.
“My friend’s not one for gossip.” I keep my voice light, taking out a couple coins. “Got anything good?”
The barkeep’s eyes fall to the silver in my hand. “Depends on what gossip interests you.”
“Something about the nobles?” I press the coins to the counter. “The High King?”
The barkeep snorts and takes the coins, dropping them into the pocket of his apron. “You’re one of those.”
“You can’t blame a lady for her tastes.” I slide my elbows forward. “So, you have something for me?”
“Yes.” The barkeep nods, adjusting the towel on his shoulder. “I might.”
Withdrawing another coin, I wave my hand toward myself. “Do tell.”
The barkeep moves closer to me. “The High King just threw his first ball in years, a night or two ago.”
Viridian’s and my engagement ball.
“Oh?” I arch a brow, acting like this is new information. “How long ago was the last ball he hosted?”
“A long, long time ago.” The barkeep lowers his voice. “Before the High Queen died.”
“How long ago did the High Queen die?” Vorr has ruled alone for as long as I can remember.
I give him another coin.
“One hundred years, at least.” The barkeep strokes his chin, adding the silver piece to his pocket. “Maybe more.”
My eyes widen.
That means…
Viridian is at least one hundred years old.
Fae lifespans.
I knew the fae lived for ages, practically immortal unless they were killed, but knowing how old Viridian is lets me see it in a whole new light.
I ask, “Why’s it been so long?”
The barkeep shrugs. “No one knows. The nobles don’t talk about it. We only have theories.”
“Theories?” I furrow my brows. “What kind of theories?”
He waits. Then I sigh, handing over another silver coin.
“They’re all pure speculation. Some say the High King was jealous of the male guests spending too much time with the High Queen and vowed to keep her all to himself. Others think it’s a political statement.”
“What do you think?” I ask.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. What the nobles do and don’t do is none of my business.”
One of the men at the bar raises his tankard. “Another!”
The barkeep dips his head to me. “That’s all I’ve got.”
“Thanks,” I say, offering him a polite smile. I tie Viridian’s coin purse shut and clutch it tightly with my fist .
I lift my weight from the counter and turn to leave.
“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” a voice slurs. There’s a hard grip on my arm.
“Let me go.” My voice sharpens.
“Easy there, sweetheart,” the drunk man says between sips. “I’m only trying to compliment you.”
“Well, I don’t want your compliments.” I wriggle against his grasp. For a drunk, it’s iron tight.
“She’s feisty, too,” another adds, leering at me. “They’re fun when they’ve got some fire in ‘em.”
“I said, let go of me,” I repeat, firmer this time.
The drunk man doesn’t release me. He would if he knew what was good for him.
Instead, he laughs.
“We could have some fun with this one,” he snickers to his companion.
“Oh, I reckon we’d go for hours.” The other smiles, revealing a row of crooked teeth. “Wouldn’t we, sweetheart?”
My mouth twists in disgust. I raise my free hand, balling it into a fist.
“Release her.” The command rumbles behind me.
The men’s drunken laughter goes silent.
“Who do you think you are?” The one holding my arm stands on wobbly legs.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Viridian says, his voice deathly calm. “You’re going to let her go. Now. ”
“You listen here—”
The man’s words get cut off by Viridian’s hand around his throat. Squeezing.
The drunk man’s eyes bulge. He lets me go and plucks at Viridian’s hold on him with both hands, to no avail. Face reddening, he pants and gasps for air.
“That’s enough!” The barkeep slams his fist onto the counter. “Cut it out or take it outside!”
Viridian gives the man’s neck one last squeeze before letting him go. Rage simmers in his expression, but he doesn’t say another word.
“Come on.” I tug at Viridian’s sleeve. Sneering, I say, “It’s not worth it.”
Reluctantly, he follows me back to our table. Still simmering, his eyes are locked on the drunk men at the bar when we sit.
“Here you are.” Our waitress arrives with a tray. She places steaming bowls of stew in front of us, then two ales.
As soon as the tankards are set on the table, the waitress leaves as quickly as she came, beckoned by another patron.
I pick up my spoon and dip it into my stew. It looks to be a simple beef broth with vegetables and some meat.
“Are you all right?” Viridian asks, voice laced with concern.
“I am.” I look up at him and return his coin purse. “Thanks to you.”
His eyes meet mine, and he holds my gaze. I don’t know how long we stare at each other, but I can’t seem to tear my focus away from him. It’s as if he’s the flame, and I am the moth drawn to it.
“It was worth it, you know.”
“What?”
“Back at the counter.” Viridian’s resolve is clear on his face. “You said it’s not worth it, but to me, defending you always will be.”
“Oh.” Warmth blossoms in my chest. I don’t know what to say.
“So,” he says, changing the subject. “What did the barkeep tell you?”
I brush my hair behind my ear, finally breaking from his stare. “Something about the last ball your fa—” I catch myself just in time to look around to make sure no one overhears us— “the High King hosted.”
Viridian cocks his head, raising a dark brow.
“Supposedly, it’s been over one hundred years since the last royal ball.”
He goes quiet. “Before my mother died.”
“Yes,” I say. “Something happened there. Something the High King doesn’t want anyone to know.” When he doesn’t say anything, I continue, furrowing my brow. “The royal historians, the nobles… They’re hiding something. I know it.”
I don’t know why, or how, but I’m sure of it.
“Right,” Viridian murmurs. “Then we look into the last ball hosted at High Keep.”
I nod. “That’s our only lead. ”
“There must be some record of it at the castle,” he continues, picking up his spoon. “If there is, we’ll find it.”
I swallow, directing my attention to my food. Lifting the tankard to my lips, I take a swig of ale.
“Ahh,” I breathe. “That’s good.”
“Is it?” Viridian eyes his tankard with suspicion.
I gesture to his ale with my own in hand. “Try it and see for yourself.”
He puts his spoon back down and picks up his tankard. He sniffs it first, still seeming wary of it. Then, he takes a sip. Grimacing, he swallows and sets the tankard down, placing a hand on his chest.
“Is this the first time you’ve tried ale?” I ask, stifling a laugh.
He wipes his mouth. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” This time I don’t hold back my laughter.
Viridian’s own laughter blends with mine, a rich and full sound. I can’t help but grin.
I cast my eyes down at my stew while we eat, glancing at him every so often. We finish our meals—and I finish both my ale and his—before pushing our emptied bowls to the end of the table.
“Give me your coin purse again,” I say, holding out my palm.
This time, he retrieves it from his pocket without question and places it in my hand. I count his gold pieces, taking just enough to cover our bill, and place them on the table next to our pile of dirty dishes. When I’m done, I hand the coin purse back to him.
Then I stand and brush off my skirts. Viridian rises after me, following my lead.
Night has fallen when we emerge from the tavern. The oil lamps at the street corners shine in the darkness, their faint glow enough to light our path.
“Let’s find an inn to stay the night,” I say. “It’s better to ride back in the morning.”
“And that will help our ruse,” Viridian adds.
“Of course,” I murmur. “Our ruse.” That we’re in the Copper Court on some romantic getaway. I’d nearly forgotten about it. I already dread having to play along with that lie once we return to High Keep.
“Yes.” Viridian’s voice sounds constricted.
Begging for a distraction, I look elsewhere. A wooden sign hanging across the street blows in the wind, catching my attention. It’s exactly what I was hoping to find.
Thank Yoldor.
It seems the God of Good Fortune is on our side.
“There,” I say, pointing to the sign. “An inn.”
Without waiting for his response, I march ahead and go inside. There’s an older woman sitting behind a counter when we enter, leafing through a stack of parchment with a quill in hand.
“Hello,” she says. “A room for the happy couple?”
“Yes, but we’re not a couple,” I say quickly. “Perhaps two rooms?”
She winces. “I’m sorry—we only have one room left.”
I start, “Then we’ll go else—”
“We’ll take it,” Viridian interjects.
“Wonderful!” The innkeeper stands and removes a set of keys from a hook on the wall to her left. She hands them to Viridian, and in return, he gives her a few gold coins.
I glower at him.
“What?” he asks, clearly unaware of what he’s gotten us into.
“You’ll see,” I grumble and cross my arms. It’s too late now.
We follow the innkeeper upstairs, to our room. Viridian unlocks the door and steps inside.
“Ah.” Realization sets into his expression, mouth curved downward.
I step in after him and look around. The room is cozy—much too cozy for my liking. A full-sized bed adorned with woolen blankets sits in the center of the room, with rickety wooden bedside tables on either side. A similar-looking wardrobe leans against the far wall—quite literally leans —and a small cheval mirror stands in the far corner. On the floor is a faded knit rug.
“Yes,” I say, drawing out the word. “There’s only one bed.”
“You take the bed,” Viridian says decisively. As if sleeping next to me is the last thing he’d ever do. Am I so horrible that he can’t stand to be close to me?
“No, you take the bed,” I counter. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but his desire to stay as far away from me as possible bruises my ego. “Unlike you, I’ll be perfectly fine on the floor.”
“That’s a lie,” he retorts, “and you know it. You’re taking the bed, and that’s final.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “You arrogant male. Already making decisions for me?”
“Arrogant?” Viridian echoes, voice raising in volume. “Excuse me for having manners, unlike you.”
“Ah yes, the uncivilized human,” I drawl, throwing my hands up. My voice goes shrill. “I’m aware.”
“That’s—that’s not—”
“I don’t care.” My words are tired and lack their usual strength.
Viridian is silent for a moment. So am I.
“I only want you to be comfortable, Cryssa,” he says at last. “After everything I’ve done to you… It only seems fair.”
That softens my brutish exterior. “I appreciate that.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “But it’s your first time away from High Keep, and I—I want you to be comfortable, too.”
He steps closer to me. Intrigue plays at his lips. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” I say, avoiding his gaze. I can feel his stare, hot on my cheeks. “Why don’t we share?”
“Share?” he prompts. The pitch of his voice curves up at the end, as if he knows what I’m trying to say, yet still asks the question anyway.
“The bed,” I stammer, in some attempt to seem more confident than I actually am. “We can share. I’ll stay on my side, and you’ll stay on yours. It’ll only be for tonight.”
I expect him to fight me, to stand his ground and insist that he sleep on the floor.
But he doesn’t.
“Very well,” he agrees. “We’ll share the bed.”
“Then it’s settled,” I say. Jitters consume my stomach, as if summoned from thin air.
Turning my back to him, I remove my cloak and hang it on one of the hooks by the door. At my side, Viridian does the same.
I linger by the hook, while he moves to the bed. The wood creaks under his weight.
When I turn around, my breath catches in my throat.
Viridian lays with his hands behind his head. His shirt is untucked, the thin, white fabric doing little to hide his chiseled physique. His leather pants hang sinfully low on his hips. Even though his shaggy black hair has fallen over his eyes, I can still feel his white-hot stare on my body.
He averts his gaze once he notices me looking.
How can he be so effortlessly beautiful?
Forcing myself to regulate my breathing, I cross the distance to the bed and sit. The cheap mattress gives way under me when I do. I fiddle with the blankets, purely to give my hands something to do, and then blow out the candle at my bedside. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and we lay there, in silence, for what feels like ages.
“I’m sorry,” I say suddenly, turning my head to him. “For earlier. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.”
Understanding washes over his face. “It’s all right. I understand.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” Viridian says slowly. “Our society teaches us things about those who differ from us. Things that might not necessarily be true. It’s difficult to unlearn all the awful things you’ve been taught to believe. For me, things about humans. For you, things about noble fae.”
He takes my hand. “So, thank you, Cryssa Thurdred. For showing me all the things that I’ve been too blind to see.”
I part my lips. But all I can do is stare.
While I came at him with sharpened daggers, he met each of my attacks with grace. With compassion.
With humanity.
Maybe Viridian is someone I can see myself spending the rest of my life with.
I blink, driving the thought from my mind.
No.
I can’t forget why I’m here.
For Father and Acantha. For Loren. I still have a life outside of High Keep.
Don’t I?
Now, I’ m not so sure.
“Goodnight, Cryssa.” Viridian’s voice snaps me back to reality.
“Goodnight,” I murmur as he turns onto his side so his back faces me. I do the same, slipping an arm under my pillow to cradle my head. After pulling the covers up to my chin, I close my eyes.
Relaxing my body, I imagine my limbs sinking deeper into the mattress.
I should be drifting off into oblivion. Instead, I’m hyper aware of the male lying next to me. Of his breaths. His movements—or rather, lack thereof.
The even pacing of his breath tells me he’s asleep. I should be, too.
I press my eyes shut and try to block him out.
But it’s only when I let go, when I stop resisting, that I start to feel myself fall.
And as fate would have it, the sound of Viridian’s soft breathing lulls me into unconsciousness.