Chapter 21
The Worst Bard in All of Castivian
“Word reaches us that His Majesty has not left his chambers in days. Bend the knee to Fate, and offer prayer for the King and his daughter. Sickness walks the palace halls.”
— The Lyonscliff Press
Lord Dronis and the Rogue Drakers stayed long enough to debrief then departed soon after. We weren’t far behind, as Riven decided we needed to travel east before the Sapphires could return.
It was possible Prince Payn would come back, but it didn’t seem likely. Not with the way he’d looked at me when he left, like he wanted nothing to do with me.
Mission accomplished.
Lord Dronis had given Riven an updated map with a path marked to a long-abandoned port. A ship sailing for Castivian would be docked there within a week, supposedly sent by Xavian Steele himself and welcoming any of the Dark Natured.
Riven had also been given two updates.
The good news was that while Lyonscliff had faced damages, Clarke and the Drakers stationed there were able to fend off the Sapphires.
The bad news was that the Northern Waywards had been attacked again, and groups of Dark Natured had escaped the gates, more afraid of being drained by Sapphires than punished by Drakers.
There wasn’t much that Lord Dronis and the Rogue Drakers could do for the escapees, except ensure a map landed in their hands. After that, it was up to them to survive. Hopefully, the rumors of a safe ship were true, and the information didn’t find its way into the wrong hands.
“Lord Xavian Steele will need every resource for the storm that’s coming,” Lord Dronis had said before leaving.
On the back of Kostini, we trekked through a dense, snow-packed trail that grew more treacherous as the day went on.
A burst of cold air slapped my face, and I pulled my hood up, bracing against the brutal winds.
Riven did not bother using a cloak, and never complained either.
If anything, he leaned his torso to take the brunt of the gusts.
“We’ll have to stay somewhere tonight,” Riven murmured, unfolding the map.
I peered over his broad shoulder. We were close to the small town of Wellsburrow, only an hour or less of travel. We would get to sleep indoors, probably even in a bed. There might be warm food and Gods, I could go for an ale, but—
“Payn stole my gold,” I reminded Riven.
He closed the map and passed it back to me. “I’ll pay for the room.”
I slowly nodded, snuggling my arms inside my cloak. Was I wearing the last piece of clothing the woodland tailor had made?
It wasn’t long before my feet were planted in the quaint hamlet of Wellsburrow. The frigid wind whipped at my hair, numbing my nose.
Riven set Kostini up in a stall while I waited against the wooden frame of the stable door.
He refused to let me wait inside the inn for him, as a few minutes of warmth were not worth the potential consequences.
Every time that he reminded me I was a liability, I complained. And each time, he did not care.
“If anyone asks,” he began as he laid a jacket over Kostini’s back. “You are my Natureless wife, and we are traveling to the coast to purchase new land. Simple enough?”
I scoffed. “Why can’t I be your sister?”
“Do you not have enough new brothers for one week?” He passed by me and out of the stall.
I shrugged. “I mean, what’s one more?”
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Elora.”
My cheeks flushed. What did he mean by that? Or was he just too tired to argue with me?
The tavern was a warm sanctuary of quiet patrons and barmaids serving ale. It was early enough that no one was belligerent, nor had a bard begun playing yet, though there was a chair and several instruments prepared in the corner.
As a hefty brunette filled a slouching patron's glass, I almost missed slinging ale myself. This inn was larger than Widow’s Way, with at least fifteen wooden tables and two sets of stairs leading to the second level with rooms for rent.
After Riven paid, I followed him up the steps, resisting the urge to make eye contact with anyone. Imitating the pure picture of a lady, I kept my arms free as Riven carried our things to the room. I’d gone entirely unnoticed, which was humbling but preferred.
He slid a metal key into the lock, turned it, and swung the door open.
I perked up at the impressive room. The bed was pushed against a snow-frosted window, neatly made with clean blue quilts. On the wall was a fireplace. Riven dropped our packs in a corner before plucking a match off the mantel and starting the fire.
I could sleep right by it if I wanted to, or in the bed, and I didn’t have to have a man’s seed inside of me to earn it. I exhaled with the weight of relief and exhaustion.
Riven stoked the flame, narrowing his dark brows from across the room. “What?”
Had I been staring? Or quiet for too long?
In truth, I was excited. Riven and I were grown enough to share the bed without it being strange.
There were times on horrid winter nights that Trista, Luna, and I had all huddled up in Trista’s bed together, and that one was much more narrow.
Maybe in the morning I could offer to help with kitchen work in return for a meal from the tavern.
I didn’t need Riven paying my way; the room was already enough.
“This looks wonderful,” I finally said, spotting a hook on the wall and sliding my cloak off. I hung it while smiling, knowing it would not be lying on the floor all night long.
Maybe in Castivian, I would have a similar room to keep for myself, and more clothes to hang in the evenings.
Riven’s face twisted. “This wasn’t expensive.”
“Does it need to be expensive in order to be nice?”
He shook his head. “No. Sorry.”
I broke eye contact first, not acknowledging the unexpected apology. Usually I was the one giving those.
The bed called to me after the horribly long day, but a bard had arrived at the tavern at last. As he screeched out his first song, I was worried my ears might begin to bleed.
Riven grimaced, his frown deepening with each note until he stormed to the door. “I’ll be back.”
The fire crackled and popped as the door closed behind him.
My thighs ached. Nothing sounded better than taking a seat.
The bed was pleasantly soft as I crawled across the blue and white quilts. Outside the window, the world was a charcoal, snowy blur. Just being inside the inn, sitting on a bed in a room with a fireplace, was a luxury beyond what I had ever considered in the Waywards.
What if I didn’t deserve it?
Riven swung the door open, returning with an entire bottle of dark liquor in hand. He shook his head in agitation and closed the door firmly behind him as if it could block the screeching bard out.
“An entire bottle?” I exclaimed as he took the first chug, drinking long enough to burn a hole through his stomach.
He’d claimed not that long ago that he didn’t drink.
He held up the bottle. “It’s for you too, unless you’ll be enduring this sober.”
The last time I had split a bottle was with Luna after she’d had a fight with another Draker she fancied at the time.
There had been so many men to drink over in the past three years, but there were celebratory times, too.
Like when we finally saved up enough for our apartment and didn’t have to huddle together in an alley at night anymore.
We’d just barely survived our first winter in the ‘Wards.
I held my arm out, and he passed the bottle. I took a healthy swig, trying to forget every shitty thing that had happened since Princess Clayvarie was poisoned. I must have drank for too long, because when I released the bottle from my lips, Riven’s eyes were wide.
He fought back a smile. “Should I get two?”
I choked on a laugh, covering my mouth with my arm before passing the bottle back.
“You might have to. The music is terrible,” I said. Riven had always been so serious and typically short with me. It was almost embarrassing to enjoy a conversation with him.
He drank again, quickly swallowing. “Terrible is not the right word. It’s sickening.”
“Sickening?” I jested.
“If I have to drink myself sick to listen to it, then absolutely. It’s sickening.”
I laughed at the ridiculousness. Outside, the snowstorm was picking up, and the wind roared in siren whistles against the windowpane.
Then Riven was taking off his overshirt for the night, folding it and placing it neatly into his pack. He was so particular in the way he did things.
As he looked down, sorting through his belongings, that rebellious, little curl fell in his face—the one that reminded me he could not always be perfect.
Did it remind him as well?
The mysterious tattoo at his beltline just barely showed before his black undershirt fell back down over his abs, too fast to read. Only the markings along his arms remained visible.
I wanted to know what it said, but not bad enough to find out for myself in a bedding manner, even if he was painfully attractive when annoyed by bard music. I wouldn’t cross that line. Not with him.
But just how good was it if Luna never charged him—?
I’d already drank too much.
“Here,” I said, holding out the bottle. There wasn’t much left, but I didn’t need another drop.
I got up to grab my blanket out of my pack and crawled back into bed, scooting all the way over until I was up against the windowpane, leaving plenty of room.
He finished off the bottle and stoked the fire before sitting on the floor in front of it, forearms relaxing over his knees.
“Goodnight, Elora. Sleep well.”
I promptly sat up. “Are you sleeping on the floor?”
“Yes.”
He’d paid for the room. If we weren’t sharing the bed, I surely did not deserve it on my own.
“I didn’t consider that you wouldn’t want to share with me, I’ll take the floor,” I said. “I like fire anyway.”
He shook his head. “You almost managed an entire day without assumptions.”
“It’s not an assumption if you just said you were sleeping on the floor.” I hopped off the bed and sat by the fire with my legs crossed.
The reflection of flames danced in Riven’s eyes.
I’d slept on plenty of floors. At least this one was warm. The bed wasn’t worth being indebted to him.
“Elora.”
I slid my eyes to his. “What?”
“Sleep in the bed—”
“No.”
“With me.”
My shoulders went rigid. “I don’t want you to share with me if that’s not what you want—”
He shushed me, the evidence of alcohol flashing in his glassy eyes. “You don’t know what I want,” he said quietly.
“What do you want?” My words were so quiet that I wasn’t sure if I’d actually said them out loud.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, shaking his head. “I want you to get in bed. We have a long day tomorrow.”
The hour was becoming late, and I was too tired to argue any further. I had already embarrassed myself enough.
I crawled back into bed, scooting all the way back to my spot. Just as I closed my eyes, Riven eased into bed behind me, his warmth so close that the hairs on the back of my neck stood. I squeezed my eyes tighter.
What if I pressed into him? Would he want that?
No. He’d tried to sleep on the fucking floor. He was only in the bed because I’d said something.
I woke early to frosted light shining on my face. I snuggled into my blanket.
As I lay on my side, I stretched my arms down, back arching until a hand gripped my waist, tugging me backward.
I inhaled sharply, snapping my eyes open.
His soft snores were steady. I stayed deathly still. The least awkward way out of this situation was to pretend to be asleep, and when he woke, he could break contact and we’d go on about our day like it never happened.
I closed my eyes, doing such a great job at pretending to sleep that I actually dozed off, secured in Riven’s embrace.
When I woke again, he was dressed and aggravated. I rubbed my eyes, groggily sitting up.
“We’ll be staying another night,” he groaned.
Well, good morning to him, too.
Riven’s jaw was tense as he stared past me out the window.
The snow had piled up overnight to the point that the door downstairs would be stuck. We were trapped in until it could be cleared away.
With impeccably horrible timing, the bard's raking voice burst through the stillness, singing from just outside our door.
Steam practically rolled out of Riven’s ears as he whipped his head toward the sound, knuckles paling.
The bard hit a horrendously high note, sending Riven reeling and snatching his pack up. “I’ve changed my mind. We will not be staying.”
We needed to leave anyway; our time was limited. I enjoyed my last moment of comfort in bed for the foreseeable future, then silently gathered my things.
It was disappointing to leave, even if it was for the best. Under those sheets with the fire going, I truly slept for the first time in forever. I hadn’t woken up on a piss-soaked platform hanging in the air, or in a twisted Warlock’s manor.
I had woken up next to Riven. Maybe this priceless feeling was the reason Luna had never charged him.
He crouched on the bed, propping the window open. Then, one by one, he tossed our bags outside onto the ground. With each plunk, I winced. Soon that would be my body hitting the ground.
Riven hopped down with ease, landing firmly on his feet. He wore only his leathers and a bow strapped to his back. How the cold didn’t bother him enough to wear a cloak, I wasn’t sure.
I was fully dressed with Singer on one hip and the orb on the other.
Riven waited below, squinting as the sun shone in his eyes.
My stomach churned. It hadn’t looked so bad when Riven did it, but the last person I’d seen jump from a window still haunted me. She was so young, and her baby would never remember—
“Elora?”
“I’m coming,” I said.
While it wasn’t as graceful an exit as Riven’s, I forced myself out the window and landed in the snow, nearly toppling over before he grabbed me.
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
Riven led the way to the stables, which were thankfully beneath heavy tree coverage.
While the day’s travel would be heinous in this weather, at least we would be making progress.
The Bastard Kingdom was waiting for me, after all.