Chapter 19
She felt sick.
Her anger was a living, throbbing thing as Hark led her into another of Kastonia’s independent towns that had sprung up about two hours from the northern border.
It was slightly bigger than Irelliad, and the crowds were a moving, heavy presence even as the night pressed in.
Music rolled out into the cobbled streets, and the buildings here at least appeared sturdier than their counterparts in Irelliad.
There were taverns and bars, and it gave her plenty of reassurance that she would find something – or someone – on whom to take out her frustration.
But she’d have to get past Hark first, and from the grim line set into his face, there was no room for arguments. She would have to wait for him to fall asleep, then.
Hark led the way through the writhing crowds that barely parted for their horses, and halted outside a tavern which had a small barn adjoining it. Pulling their cloaks tightly around them, they ambled through the door to the tavern, careful to avoid the gazes of any who glanced their way.
After handing over too many coins for the value of the rooms, two shiny silver keys were hastily handed over and the hooded companions disappeared into the corridors above the taproom.
‘I can see if there’s anything to eat?’ Hark said, pausing before his door which was at the opposite end of the corridor to hers.
She was pleased since it would be easier to sneak out if she didn’t have to worry about him being on the other side of the wall.
But then she wondered, for a moment, if it was kindness she saw in his eyes and she didn’t know what to make of that.
It was masked quickly enough with a huff of annoyance that it was taking her too long to answer his question.
‘I’m fine. I’m going to go to sleep,’ she replied, stifling a yawn that wasn’t entirely faked. She wasn’t sure it would be enough to convince him. In fact, she would consider it a blessing from the gods if he believed her at all.
But if he didn’t buy the feeble excuse, he didn’t argue with her, instead bidding her goodnight and letting himself into his room.
Arla’s own room was simple but warm – perfect.
She would leave it a few hours before venturing out; she needed to make sure Hark was asleep and not about to impede her spying.
She didn’t know what she was looking for, exactly, but she knew something wasn’t right.
She wanted more. More information on the Kastonian royal family, more information on the slaves – gods, just the thought of them flared a simmering anger in the pit of her stomach.
How dare they—!
Enough.
She needed to clear her head. She would obtain nothing if she was fixating on all the wicked, dangerous things she wanted to do to Kastonia.
She couldn’t afford to fall asleep, either.
Judging by the way her eyes were drooping in the warmth of the room, it was likely she would sleep right through and gather no information at all.
Fighting the languor in her body, she moved to sit by the narrow window, rolling her eyes at the heart-shaped symbol someone had drawn in black ink on the frame.
She rested her forehead on the cool glass to watch the dealings of the people in the street below.
She observed hands exchanging wrapped items in the shadows, and when she noticed the golden pins some of them wore it made her grit her teeth.
She was fed up with this kingdom and their ridiculous superstitions, their obsession with false magic.
But she would watch and, if she was lucky, she might learn something of Kastonia and its odd little towns.
It was something they didn’t have in Hadalyn.
The lands of her kingdom merged into one another, only separated by demarcations between farming and business regions.
Grey Hill seemed to house the beating heart of Hadalyn, made busier by the chaos of Castle Grey’s revolving door of trade and exchange.
So she would be content to sit here awhile and observe this strange little town in Kastonia. Then she would venture out, and she would find what she needed to bring this kingdom to its knees.