Chapter Twenty-nine
THEA
T hea laughed, truly laughed, for the first time in what felt like forever. The weight that lifted from her shoulders as she did so was indescribable. She wiped away a tear and met Wilder’s gaze.
His silver eyes were bright, his shoulders tense, as though he’d taken a breath and forgotten to exhale.
He was looking at her in a way that made her stomach flutter, taking in her face as though she wasn’t the apprentice he’d never wanted, or the lover who’d had no faith in him.
He was looking at her as though he’d known her his entire life, as though she’d always been a part of him.
‘What?’ she asked, suddenly nervous, despite the tavern humming with noise and activity around them.
He gazed at her a moment more. ‘I —’
‘Your table awaits!’ Everard barged between them enthusiastically, motioning for them to follow.
Thea hesitated, but Wilder simply followed the tavern owner, a small smile playing on his lips as they moved deeper into the Singing Hare.
Thea hadn’t realised how enormous the place was.
There were several sprawling rooms throughout, all filled with mismatched tables and chairs, a fire blazing in every hearth.
Exposed weathered oak beams and doors embellished with wrought iron vines gave it an intimate feel despite its size, and the air was thick with the comforting aroma of spiced mead and roasted game.
It was well lit, with flickering candlelight creating a warm glow that spilt onto the worn stone floor.
With Everard guiding Thea and Wilder through, the patrons didn’t look twice at the pair; they were much too enamoured with the host himself.
In that respect, he reminded her of Kipp.
As it turned out, Kipp – or ‘the Son of the Fox’, as everyone in the Singing Hare referred to him – was incredibly well connected. Everard showed Thea and Wilder to a curtained booth with cushions covered in velvet and a pile of fur blankets to keep their laps warm.
Thea settled herself against the wall, drawing a plush throw across her lower half, realising that she liked the Singing Hare more and more with each passing moment.
‘What will it be, then?’ Everard said, clapping his hands together as though the prospect of feeding them gave him great joy. ‘I have boar and an array of dishes on the way, but to drink? What’s your poison, friends?’
Wilder went to reply, but Everard cut him off by clapping a palm to his forehead in sudden realisation.
‘It all makes sense now!’ he declared. ‘Marise sent something —’
Without finishing his sentence, he was off.
‘Are all the tavern owners like him?’ Thea asked, watching him disappear into what she assumed was the kitchen.
‘Well, you’ve met Albert at the Fox,’ Wilder replied. ‘He’s certainly less… eccentric?’
Before Thea could answer, Everard was back, holding two glasses and a dark bottle of wine, a note attached around its neck with a piece of twine. The tavern owner pushed it across the table. ‘I suspect this is for you?’
Wilder’s brows knitted together as he read the messy scrawl. Then, a slow smile broke across his handsome face and he sat back in his seat with a huff of laughter.
‘What does it say?’ Thea asked.
Wilder handed her the note while Everard removed the cork from the bottle and poured them each a generous glass. Thanking him, Thea returned her attention to the note. The ink had splattered with every word across the parchment and Thea had to squint to make out the letters.
You missed the Dead Red event. You’ll be sorry.
Thea frowned. ‘Is he threatening you?’
Wilder barked a laugh. ‘Threatening? No.’ He looked up to Everard. ‘Have a glass with us, friend. We have some logistics to discuss with you.’
Thea didn’t think she’d ever seen a person look so thrilled to be invited to talk logistics. But she soon realised it wasn’t the conversation that was the drawcard, but the wine.
‘I warn you, it’s entirely possible we’ll need another,’ Wilder told him, clinking his glass against Everard’s.
‘I warn you, that’s never a problem in this tavern.’
Thea watched with quiet amusement as the men spoke about Marise’s famous Dead Red event with great intensity before Wilder turned to the actual topic at hand.
‘We have need of a discreet entrance and private meeting room tomorrow evening,’ the Warsword began slowly, seeming to mull over his words carefully. ‘The guests… Well, they’re of a controversial nature.’
‘Say no more,’ Everard said. ‘You’re a friend of Kristopher’s. When it comes to that lad, we have a no questions asked policy.’
‘Surely, to protect your business you must —’
Everard waved him off. ‘The sister taverns of the midrealms have withstood every terrible moment in history thus far. They are the safe havens for the drinkers and thinkers of our age. Kipp is one of the best of them. He’s the reason this place is still standing.’
‘What did he do?’ Thea asked, curiosity piqued. How was it that her friend had garnered such a reputation across the lands when he’d spent much of his life at the fortress?
‘Ah, that is top-secret information,’ Everard replied with a wink. ‘But his friends are our friends, and what you need, you get.’
Warmth bloomed in Thea’s chest at the man’s loyalty, at his faith in her friend, who was so often overlooked or deemed ‘useless’ by the commanders. It was a strange and wonderful world where Kipp Snowden was more legend than the legends of Thezmarr.
‘Thank you,’ she said earnestly.
Everard bowed his head. ‘It’s an honour to serve the midrealms. So, tell me what you need, then I’ll see about this delay with the boar.’
Wilder still seemed a little stunned by the whole scenario, and he sat back with his wine as Thea took the reins.
As succinctly as possible, she told Everard of their need for a private meeting room, with space enough for more than a dozen people by her count.
That they would need to be able to arrive and leave unseen by other patrons.
And, where possible, there would be several overnight rooms required.
When she had finished, Everard simply nodded. ‘Consider it done.’ He walked away, promising their food would be with them shortly.
She felt Wilder’s gaze on her again. ‘Something to say, Warsword?’ she asked, picking up her own wine and taking a sip.
An explosion of red fruit met her tastebuds and she closed her eyes, savouring the flavour.
It wasn’t anything like the wine she had tried at the masquerade ball; it was more complicated, more layered somehow.
‘Nothing to say, Princess,’ Wilder told her, voice low. ‘Not yet, anyway.’
Thea was about to press him, but the food arrived in a flourish more befitting of a royal family than two ragged travellers.
Any concerns went out the window along with Thea’s manners as the steaming plates were set down before them, the aroma of delicately spiced roast boar wafting through the air making her mouth water.
Suddenly, she was starving. Hot meals had been few and far between in the long winter months past, and so she decided to take a leaf out of Kipp’s book and make the most of it.
She wondered if he’d ask for her king’s coin to pay for it all – not that she minded; she’d happily run King Artos’ treasury into the ground at this point.
She and Wilder ate together, leaving the curtains of their booth open so they could watch the rest of the tavern, quietly observing all the goings-on.
‘I like it here,’ she said, watching a minstrel with a lute swagger through the crowd, and a rowdy group of women tossing back tankards of ale in the far corner.
‘Thought you might.’
‘Why’s that?’
Wilder shrugged. ‘You can be anyone you want here, and no one gives a fuck.’
Thea took another swig of her wine. ‘Makes a nice change from the rest of the midrealms, doesn’t it?’
‘It does.’
‘Who do you want to be, then?’ she asked, pushing her plate away, unable to eat another morsel.
‘Someone worthy,’ Wilder replied, but before Thea could tell him that he certainly was someone worthy, his gaze strayed from her and landed on the billiards table on the other side of the room. ‘Remember when we played?’
‘Yes.’
A sultry heat burned in his gaze as it met hers again. ‘Remember what happened after?’
Thea swallowed, her body going taut and a rush of arousal sweeping over her at the mere mention of that night. ‘Yes,’ she breathed. She had relived those hours many times, often against her will in the dark of her tent or beneath the stars.
The cushion beneath her shifted, and she realised she was sliding across the booth. Wilder dragged her towards him until she was flush against his side, his warmth instantly encompassing her.
When she tilted her head up, he was already looking at her, his silver eyes molten.
‘You want to play billiards again?’ she asked, biting her lower lip.
‘No.’
Thea traced a finger up the muscular curve of his thigh. ‘Then what do you want?’
Wilder was unbelievably still, but for a brief tremor that betrayed the efforts of his restraint. Finally, he leant in, pressing the barest whisper of a kiss to her neck, but it was enough to set every nerve ending in Thea’s body on fire.
‘You know damn well what I want.’ His deep voice vibrated against her skin, sending pulses of yearning rippling through her.
Thea tilted her chin up in challenge. ‘So take it.’
Desire flared in Wilder’s gaze and he crowded her body with his, ignoring the patrons beyond their booth.
Thea breathed him in, his mouth dangerously close to hers, arousal throbbing at her core. Gods, she wanted him. She wanted him with every fibre of her being.
He reached for her, running his thumb over her bottom lip before letting his fingers fall down the column of her throat, and trail between her breasts.
The touch was light, barely a caress, but Thea felt it like a line of fire.
Her legs parted involuntarily beneath the blanket across her lap and she arched into his touch, stifling a whimper.
Wilder ran his nose along her neck before he sank his teeth into the soft skin there, brushing his tongue over the tender spot. ‘You don’t get to make the rules, Princess,’ he said.
A cry of fury half left her lips before Wilder stood abruptly, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder.
Not breaking his stride, he swiped their key from the bar and made for the stairs in the far corner.
She vaguely remembered him threatening to do exactly this to her, when they’d first met in the Bloodwoods…
‘Are you going to come to the fortress willingly? Or would you prefer to suffer the indignity of me throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you?’
He hadn’t asked this time.
The patrons of the Singing Hare whistled and cheered as Wilder wove through the crowd, Thea too shocked to do anything but hang over his broad shoulder.
She stared out at their grinning faces and lewd gestures as Wilder’s hands grasped the backs of her thighs firmly and he charged up the stairs.
He moved fast, and soon, a door was being unlocked and kicked open, slamming shut behind them as he threw her down on a feather bed.