Chapter Seventeen
Later that evening, as I lace up the last of my boot, a knock on my door sounds.
“It’s open,” I call, straightening myself.
Eve opens the door, peeking inside. She gives me a weak smile. “I was just going to ask if you still wanted to go, but I see you’re dressed and ready.”
She steps into the room, closing the door behind her.
Dressed in common clothes, it’s strange to see her in anything other than her temple robes.
Donning dark brown leather pants that cling to her muscular legs and a form fitting, light-weight, white shirt, she looks more adventurer than temple priestess.
Eve is built like a warrior and I would have never guessed. Tall, muscular, and lean, she makes for an intimidating sight.
“I think after today, we both deserve a bit of distraction,” she says, pulling me out of my lingering stare.
Grabbing my cloak from the bed, I sling it about my shoulders. “I think tonight I’ll hunt for someone capable of taking me away from all of this,” I admit quietly, my fingers working the clasp closed.
Leaning against the door, Eve crosses her arms. “I would come with you, but Cora… she’ll never leave Ollora.”
A corner of my heart begins to splinter. Eve has become my closest friend here, and the thought of leaving her pains me in a way I hadn’t expected—not after a week together.
Offering a weak smile, I pull the hood over my head, hiding away my silver hair. “I’m not going to steal away tonight. I have until the eclipse to find someone—a mortal foolish enough to sign a contract.”
“With a face like yours, you’ll find a dozen foolish fae within the hour.” She huffs a laugh, shaking her head.
“I don’t think my face will be enough,” I laugh, “but I do have a couple trinkets I could offer.”
Her brows raise. “Oh?”
With a small smile, I laugh. “Things I’ve stolen from the hells.”
“Oh, so nothing major. Nothing damning,” she teases casually. “Bringing a few cursed items from the hells is nothing to worry about.”
Unable to stop myself, I grin. “Unless you fear a couple books or a glamouring ring magicked to hide its ability, you’ve nothing to stress over.”
Swinging herself around, Eve opens the door, holding it open as I approach.
She gives me a smile as I step into the hall.
Closing the door, she falls in beside me, and we begin toward the stairs.
The temple lies mostly empty as we wander through, with witches attending an extended prayer and acolytes turned in for the evening.
Emerging through the front temple doors, we’re greeted by the night sky—darkened with swift-moving clouds, stealing my view of the stars. The night is cool, the wind cooler, and it causes my skin to pebble.
Rubbing my arms with my hands, we begin through the courtyard, making for the streets of Ollora.
“What are the rules of this fight?” I ask, watching the dancing moths attracted to the magelights that line the deserted street.
Eve follows my gaze before answering. “Rules are few and simple. No innates, no killing, first to be knocked out of the ring wins.”
My lip curls. “No magic use?”
Eve laughs. “In a space like a tavern, magic use can go very wrong, very quickly. Magic use in any establishment is usually forbidden.”
“People fighting without the use of their innate sounds less entertaining,” I say, rolling my eyes over to Eve as she laughs.
“I disagree,” she says, a dark brow arching. “Innate use is too easy. Defeating an opponent without it is an amazing display of strength and forethought.”
The further we move away from the temple, the less empty the streets become. Before long, sidewalks are filled with many spilling into the street, forming a line. As we walk down the middle of the street, I glance to Eve.
“Is that the line?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah, but we don’t have to stand in it,” she answers.
“We don’t?”
“Nope.” She flashes a wide grin. “We’re on a shortlist. Tarron’s guests.”
Reaching the end of the street, Eve leads us left, following the bending line around the corner. The street traces the shoreline, several docks jutting into the waters of Kevus Lake on the right, a line of shops and taverns along the left.
Tracing the line, it carries on for another half block, stopping before a single tavern. There has to be hundreds of people waiting, most dressed in common attire, a handful wearing slightly finer clothing. I’m going to assume this isn’t the kind of event Lilith or the Sovereign King will attend.
“The Lioness is right there,” Eve says pointing to a sign.
It hangs over the end of the line, swaying slightly. Upon it, in a bold red script, lies the name The Lioness. It features an interesting artistic rendering of a female lion in a violet dress and gold crown, holding a bloodied sword.
As we walk past, a few heads turn, watching us as we approach the tavern.
A chilly breeze drifts in from the lake, and I shiver against it.
It carries the scent of the lake water interlaced with aged ale, tobacco smoke, and roasting meats—presumably from the kitchens of the taverns. Not an entirely unpleasant mixture.
“Aye, Eve!” the tall, blond-haired male standing at the door calls with a wave of his hand. “Glad to see you could make it. Tarron’s been asking about you.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Eve returns. “Evening prayer went longer than it should have.”
The male waves her words away with a callous gesture and a grimace-like smile. “He’s not gonna care. Head on inside. His fight starts soon, if it hasn’t already.”
Stepping out of the way of the open door, Eve enters the tavern and I follow in her wake. In the street, the noise had been tolerable, not confined by walls. But inside the tavern, the chatter is deafening. Eve’s warning had not been enough for what I stepped into.
The tavern atmosphere swallows me whole.
Packed to the rafters with bodies, I can hardly move once through the door. Eve reaches back, taking my hand in hers, grinning over her shoulder as she does so.
“You ready?” she asks in a shout.
Not wanting to shout in return, I nod once.
She leads us deeper into the crowd. Tables filled with humans and fae enjoying ale, wine, and meals everywhere I look. Females sitting on laps of males, laughing gregariously, corners filled with patrons standing, waiting for a seat to open.
A high-hanging haze fills the space with billows of exhaled smoke adding to the cloud. Many pull on cigarillos or tobacco pipes, leaving the room foggy. It diffuses the bright silver light of the magelight chandeliers hanging overhead.
On the right, a long, polished dark wood bar stretches down the length of the tavern, staffed by three female barkeeps. Dressed provocatively in low cut shirts, they move with a practiced quickness, pouring ales and mixing drinks.
Behind them, the wall is lined with multiple shelves, each loaded with various bottles of spirits, displaying a rainbow of colors. A couple seem to glow—one bright green, another vivid purple. I’ve never seen such things in the hells.
Slipping through the crowd at a snail’s pace, the bar is lined with bodies, shoulder to shoulder.
Without pausing, Eve walks up to the corner closest to the door and pushes herself between two fae males without hesitation.
They glare in her direction before scooting aside, as much as they can.
I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned.
She pulls me in beside her, and we’re forced to stand mashed against one another between the males. The male behind me shifts, pulling my hood down unintentionally, and my silver hair falls free over my shoulders.
“Sorry, miss,” he says, flashing a rather handsome smile down at me. “Busy one tonight.”
I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to being seen by random mortals. Giving the male a close-lipped smile and a nod, he returns to his conversation with the male on the other side of him.
One of the barkeeps steps up to us, setting a pint of ale before the male who’d apologized. A full-figured fae female with pale blue hair framing a heart-shaped face adorned with dark blue eyes—she’s beautiful.
With a roguish grin, she greets Eve. “Haven’t seen you around for a bit,” she says, openly dragging her eyes over Eve. “Thought maybe you grew too good for the likes of us.”
Eve laughs, shaking her head. “Things have been… busy.”
The barkeep’s eyes dart to me. A dark brow arches as she slides her stare back to Eve. “What happened to the human girl? She wizen up and lose interest in you?”
Eve’s laughter grows. “No, Camille. I’m still with Cora. This is Ves. She’s our latest moon witch.”
Both her brows raise. “Ah. One of Celesta’s then.” She nods. “She looks an awful lot like the goddess, too.”
I purse my lips, keeping quiet.
“Coincidence,” the lie rolls smoothly from Eve as she shrugs. “Ves decided to come along to watch Tarron. She’s never watched him fight before.”
Camille hoists herself up onto her toes, peering over the lined crowd at the bar. “I believe the bookmaker is still taking bets if you’re into that kind of thing.”
Wagers.
One of the favored pastimes in the hells. More than once, I’ve watched House Patriarchs lose favored House vessels on poorly made wagers.
“I’m good,” Eve says, lifting a hand in a declining gesture.
Both of them look at me.
Eyes wide, I shake my head. “I’m not much of a gambler.”
The barkeep laughs, a deep, delighted sound. “What are you drinking tonight?”
“I’ll take an ale,” Eve says, leaning against the bar to flash her own stunning smile.
“Don’t you give me that,” Camille retorts, her hands falling to her hips. “I don’t see you for months and you waltz in here and expect me to just fawn over you?”
Eve’s smile transforms, becoming more sanguine and flirtatious. “Don’t give you what?” she asks, feigning innocence.
Leveling a flat, unamused stare at Eve, Camille’s smile returns as she turns to me. “You should keep better company than this demon of a fae,” she says and Eve bursts into laughter. Ignoring her, she asks, “What can I get you?”