Chapter 3
We spent a few moments in silence before he spoke again.
“And who is that?” he nodded toward Welme.
“My sister,” I answered immediately, effortlessly hiding a lie I had been telling for years. He smiled faintly and nodded.
“You don’t look alike,” he chuckled. I returned the small smile and gestured for Welme to come closer. I watched her carefully gather all of our belongings, her expression cautious yet well-trained, before approaching us with soft, measured steps.
“Hello,” she said, sitting a few feet away from us.
“She’s not very talkative,” I added casually, though the truth was that no matter how much I loved her, Welme’s place was always a few steps behind mine, especially when I was in the company of someone else.
The beautiful stranger only offered her a polite smile before turning his gaze back to me.
I felt a strange warmth curl in my stomach as fine lines appeared at the corners of his brown eyes when he smiled.
“You never told me your name…” I said, looking down at my feet. “Lys.” I chanted his name in my mind like a prayer. Lys, fire, according to the songs of the old southern tongue.
“And what brings you to my city, Lys?” I asked as I lifted my legs and folded them beneath me.
He had no idea that the city indeed was mine.
He looked from my face to my legs and mirrored the gesture.
Behind me, I felt Welme tracking every movement I made.
By the end of the day, it was her duty to protect me until I was granted my Blood Knight.
He opened another shell, this time more skillfully, and murmured, “I’m here for the tournament.” Something twisted strangely in my stomach at the thought of him fighting for me. As if that was something I yearned for. “You fight?” I asked, my voice embarrassingly high, heat rushing to my cheeks.
He paused for a moment, his fingers tracing the now-empty shell before tossing it into the sea. “No. I’m just here to watch. This is the last Princess Tournament, and I’ve never seen one before.” He shrugged, returning his gaze to me.
A cold wind swept through, sending a chill straight to my bones. Around us, the market quieted as the shell vendors began packing up. Still, the scent lingered in the air, tempting as the finest perfume.
“And you?”
I tilted my head slightly, thinking of what to say. Aside from the tavern worker, I hadn’t spoken to many people while in disguise.
“I’ve never been,” I answered then quickly added, “But this year our father is taking us to watch. He says it’s the last time, that we mustn't miss it.”
“Sister, we should go. You know Father said we must return quickly,” Welme suddenly spoke from behind me.
I turned and saw she was already on her feet.
Worry, fear, and concern were all etched across her face at once.
I knew she didn’t like how close I was sitting or that I was talking to a stranger, but a part of me just didn’t care.
If all my brothers could visit every whorehouse if they wished to do so, without a whisper of gossip or danger, then I could sit and speak with someone.
Stories feed the soul, my tutor used to murmur after every lesson.
“Don’t worry, Wel. Everything will be fine. We can stay a little longer, for the weather is very splendid.” She shifted on her feet, opened her mouth to argue, but I simply raised an eyebrow.
I was still a princess indeed. And no matter how close we were, she had to obey my word. Her jaw tightened, but she nodded.
I turned back to Lys and, without thinking, asked, “Are you thirsty? There’s an excellent tavern nearby.”
He glanced back at the sea before quickly returning his attention to me.
The wind blew again, loosening strands of hair from beneath his hood.
Neither of us quite knew what to say; we had only just met.
And yet, some part of me had wanted to ask him all the same.
He finally made his decision as he flicked his hand and rose to his feet.
Before I could stand myself, he extended his strong, muscular hand to me.
His fingers spread slightly as he waited.
I looked into his eyes, then down at his open hand, and almost shyly placed mine in his.
My heart slammed against my ribs, my throat tightening as his strong hand gently pulled me to my feet.
It felt as though I weighed no more to him than the bag of shells.
I would definitely need at least one cup of mead.
Maybe three.
I didn’t even turn to look at Welme; I simply nodded toward the street where our tavern stood.
Brushing the dust from my dress, I smiled at him.
“Come, Lys. It’s time you meet the best parts of this city.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said, still watching me.
Only then did I realize I barely reached his shoulders.
He was enormous. The fabric stretched across his broad frame, over wide shoulders and a powerful chest.
Five meads. Minimum.
“Neither can I.”
He picked up his bag of shells while Welme carried ours, and side by side, scented with cherries and the sea, we made our way toward the Tavern Under the Stairs.