5 #3
“Wait here,” I whisper to Vawn, taking the carpet from his arms. He feigns lighting an invisible cigarette and leans against the outer wall of the stable while I slip inside.
Climbing to the hayloft while wrangling the rolled-up carpet is tougher than I expected, but I manage it. After burying it in the hay beneath the sloping roof, I descend the ladder quickly and re-emerge, picking straw out of my hair and off my clothes.
“You look fantastic,” croons the prince as we circle the stable and head across the courtyard toward the inn’s front entrance.
“I’m shocked that you aren’t already married yourself.
How many offers have you had, sweetheart?
Your personality alone should have garnered you quite a few—specifically men who like to be pestered into submission. ”
I have never wanted—no, needed—to hit someone so badly. But I exert a heroic level of self-restraint and paste a smile on my face as we enter the pub.
The rustic room smells of bacon, strong black tea, and warm bread. As we approach the bar, a gray-haired woman catches sight of us and sets down a big clay teapot on a trivet. “Morning. Breakfast?”
“A room, actually,” I reply.
Her eyes narrow, and she scans us both with more suspicion and judgment than I was expecting.
I probably should have changed my clothes as well.
While my reinforced leathers and weapons belts didn’t draw much attention in Kyr, they make me stand out in this tiny village pub. Vawn and I look dreadfully mismatched.
Vawn’s arm circles my shoulders, pulling me close to his side.
“My wife works as a part of the Forestry Guard, patrolling the roads. She’s coming off a week of incessant travel, for which she received a small bonus, and we were hoping to have a quiet day to ourselves.
With the new baby at home, it’s difficult to find time to sleep, or do anything else.
” He winks significantly at the woman. “But my mother is staying with little Geraldine today, so my wife and I would appreciate a bath and a place to rest, if you would be so kind.”
The woman doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she nods. “There’s a strict fine if you employ outward-facing glyphs within our doors.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Vawn waggles his fingers, tipped with the false nails.
The woman gives him a sharp look. “Son, I wasn’t born yesterday. Those could be false tips. Maybe you have glyphs, maybe you don’t, but as long as you’re here, you don’t use any on other people. Fair enough?”
“More than fair,” I put in. “How much for the rooms?”
“Room. She means one room, for the two of us.”
“Of course,” I say, with a forced smile.
“I’m so tired from patrolling the lanes and the byways, I hardly know what I’m saying.
One room, and we’ll need it until sunset.
Two plates of breakfast as well, sent up to the room.
Also baths, if you please.” I point to the sign on the bar-top that reads Historic Subterranean Mineral Baths.
The woman fixes us both with another stare, but it’s more dislike than suspicion.
She names a reasonable day rate, and once I hand over the money, she gives us the room key.
“The baths are out back, to the right once you’re past the chicken yard.
Towels are in the cabinet. Leave them in your room when you go on your way.
Oh, and no coupling in the bath. Save it for the room. ”
“Of course.” Vawn grins at her with another wink, and to my surprise, her grim expression softens and she gives him a grudging smile. “We wouldn’t want to disturb anyone else who might be enjoying a soothing mineral soak.”
“Oh, there won’t be anyone else in the bath.” She pockets our money quickly, as if she’s afraid we might take it back. I’m tempted to question her on that point, but Vawn is already pulling me away, shedding a final beauteous smile over the landlady.
“Are you magic?” I whisper to him as we climb the stairs.
“I’ve often wondered the same thing.”
A cocky answer, typical for him. He acts as if he has drawn a blanket of casual levity over his grief.
It’s unsettling, and I could simply mark it down to the vagaries of loss, except it mirrors other contradictory qualities I’m sensing from him.
He’s foolish sometimes, to the point of childish silliness, but he’s also cleverer than he seems on the surface.
For a spoiled prince, he has been surprisingly adaptable to the coarse clothing, the trek through the Brasspool district, and now the accommodations at the rustic inn.
He mentioned feeling ignored by his father and overlooked by some of his family members. They forgot his birthday. So even though he loved them, there might have been some bad blood there, too.
He was fifth in line, as he said, with no hope of claiming the throne. And he is the sole survivor of the coup.
As I climb the stairs toward the room I’m supposed to share with him, a suspicion coalesces in my mind.
What if Vawn Molloi, the careless heartbreaker, the prince with the least hope of claiming the crown, is the one behind everything?