Chapter 1 #2
“Oh, well then—” she says, and lets go of me.
I stumble, unable to steady myself, and fall.
My shoulder slams into the hard, cold ground as she adds, “I didn’t realize this is what fine looks like.
You think I don’t notice when you’re in pain and trying to hide it?
That I wasn’t with you when this happened before and don’t see the more pain it causes every time it happens? ”
“Nothing about my life is normal.” Not since Hollow Reckoning. I really need that drink I’ve been craving right about now. I take deep breaths and work through the pain as it slowly subsides.
Peylin shakes her head but doesn’t argue. We met when we were children, running through the halls of the fae palace. Her mother was a lieutenant under my father’s command. I had been drawn to her boundless laughter. Ever since then, she’s been my closest friend and confidante.
Finally, I’m able to stand up. With my vision cleared, I straighten my clothes. “We can finish tomorrow. I’m going to Govlik’s.”
By this hour, the lanterns have all been lit, and most of the shops are closed. I like to conduct my business in the evenings. Mostly so I can drink after and then sleep in. The later I work, the less time I have to sit alone with two centuries of regrets.
It’s a system, work until I’m too exhausted, drink until I’m too numb, and sleep until I’m needed. Being immortal means perfecting survival.
The streets are littered with beings of all kinds; some retiring for the evening, others just ready to start their waking hours.
The buildings in this section of the city stand without space between them, except for cross-streets and an alley or two.
Businesses occupy most, with the merchants living above their shops.
As we approach the tavern, the wooden sign sways in the breeze.
The Cracked Fang’s gold lettering reflects off the dancing flame of the lantern hanging below it.
Patrons of this tavern are like bugs attracted to light.
Flying toward something that will scorch them, but the temptation is too strong to deny.
I push open the door and immediately notice my seat at the bar is occupied by a woman. It’s the best one, hidden away in the back corner, slightly higher than all the others, so that whoever perches on the stool can see everything happening in the tavern.
Govlik, our resident orc and the owner of this tavern, leans over the bar top to chat with her. His muscular arms are on display, showcasing the many crisscrossed scars that pepper his slate-green skin.
Of course he would offer my seat to the human he’s flirting with, but I can’t blame her. He’s good at getting what he wants, and he’s quite handsome. His soft amber eyes are in opposition to his strong features, alluding to a gentler side. Hah. That’s something I’ve never seen.
The moment the human senses my presence, she removes herself from the stool and moves to a table in the middle of the tavern, joining whomever she came with.
Peylin leaves my side, taking the garment box to the room reserved permanently for me, whether or not I use it. Useful, when I get so intoxicated that I don’t make it home.
What’s an immortal life if you can’t have a few nights that you don’t remember?
As I walk to my seat, my eyes track the lithe movements of an ethereal siren on the stage, entertaining her audience with a seductive dance and expertly showing off her curves.
Her voice perfectly enraptures those she chooses.
She knows the rules of this place, using her magic only for entertainment, for an experience—never to harm.
“Pour me two,” I tell Govlik, who now stands stiffly, looking down at me with crossed arms. The fae are not short, but orcs often beat us by a few inches. If we weren’t so familiar, the harshness of his pinched brows and clenched jaw might intimidate me.
“Shouldn’t you be back in the capital, at the training yard? Doing something productive?” Govlik sneers.
I brush off the slight. He’s probably irritated at the unfortunate timing of my arrival, interrupting his evening catch. He knows I haven’t been back to Sildrith in decades. That I won’t go back.
“I am being productive here.” Every word leaves my lips with a heavy emphasis before I continue more politely. “Have you not benefited from my hand in crafting this city?”
He sighs loudly, but says nothing; just grabs two small glasses, pouring a milky green liquid into each. He’s fairly true to his nature—malicious, depending on what side of his you’re on.
Luckily, I’m on his good side. I helped him secure the right to own this tavern a hundred and twelve years ago. So, Govlik is sort of nice to me.
“Plus, what training do I really need? I could easily take down anyone in this room, even drunk, with one eye closed. Besides you, maybe.” I laugh out loud, more to myself, because I think I’m funny.
Except, Govlik is right. I should have returned to the capital decades ago, after Varithen started thriving.
But I can’t let it go.
Varithen became a place I wanted to remain, to live in enough chaos to drown the constant reminder of what I did.
My father stationed me here two centuries ago, after the battle we now refer to as Hollow Reckoning, when it was still a derelict coastal shithole.
My position as captain should have been stripped, and my life forfeit, after that battle, but the king granted my father a favor—allowing exile instead of execution for the role I had played in the loss of so many fae lives.
I was the only possible source of intelligence that reached the vampire king—the only one in a relationship with his general, despite every warning I’d been given.
So, I took my punishment, and let my bonded mate’s betrayal fuel me, transforming this city into what it has become.
The high fae council leaves me to my machinations because I send the crown gold, exactly as I had predicted—and wanted. Plus, I don’t think they can bear to see me. I’d be a constant reminder of those who were lost.
A shudder starts, but I knock my first drink back, a horrid liquid that burns my throat as it goes down. I’m not exactly sure why we all drink it. Govlik says it’s sweet, but that most certainly is not true. At least it distracts me from the thoughts that want to creep in.
Govlik scowls and passes me a larger glass, this time filled with iridescent pink liquid. “Your father punished us both by making that decision. You drink all my liquor and get into fights.”
“At least I pay.” I shrug, blow him a kiss, and slam down a few gold coins before I walk away. A single gold coin is worth more than a few drinks. Other than being the leader of this city, it’s why he continues to put up with my antics. I pay him far too much.
Like I said, he’s sort of nice.
If I were really following orders, I’d have shut down this place and every other tavern like it. Cleaned up Varithen. But the way I see it, the money they bring in is worth letting them stay open.
It’s the deal I brokered, convincing my father that a city where all are welcome would be a place of wealth. One that would greatly benefit the kingdom.
It was also a place I needed, so I could escape from my failure while still being useful. In the two hundred years since establishing this city, it has thrived. The city’s inhabitants share free thought, magical practices, and customs.