Chapter 46
Audra had been thankful for the two days off from coursework and lectures; she needed them to grieve Cersha.
Two days was barely a drop in the bucket, she knew she would never truly get over the pain of losing a friend, nor of seeing Callum’s pain, which somehow was more difficult to bear than her own suffering, so she spent the next two days glued to his side, and while he was in lectures or training, she was in the archives, surrounded by librarians and scribes, searching for anything that might mention the ritual.
When no relevant text, annal, or scroll provided any helpful information, it only reinforced the fact that she needed to search Green Barrow. And she was thankful that she had come in first for Arcane Guild’s trial, though her grief had overshadowed the announcement.
Somehow, finding out that Cersha hadn’t returned with her life made her win feel shallow.
Even Noel hadn’t had anything annoying to say, despite his coming in second place for the Arcane Guild Trial.
And yet … All that work, all that preparation, had been for naught.
Because she was finding it harder and harder to conceal, to control, her dark powers and every day she remained at Holyvere was another day closer to being discovered—though she wasn’t any closer to finding out what the rite was, so she could make an informed decision on what was her best course of action.
And now she was in this ratdump town that she’d worked so hard to get to, only to find out there wasn’t a library or bookshop, not a single place that would help her.
Noel had scowled then, complaining that “Audra had wasted an entire hour of their afternoon searching for something that didn’t even exist, and what did she want with a bookshop? There was an entire library filled with books back at Holyvere.”
She’d snapped at him to shut up; she’d told him to drop her off at the entrance to the town and to go explore on his own, but he’d insisted that she “looked the type to be murdered in a dark alley” and “her ginormous redheaded friend might actually kill him if he returned without her.”
Audra couldn’t help but laugh, then, because honestly, she didn’t think Callum needed a reason to kill Noel, not since he’d cheated in the Sabre trial and stolen his victory.
Noel had growled at that, insisting for the eighteenth time that afternoon that “if using incramancy was cheating, then why did the judges grant him three victories?”
Audra hadn’t known what to say to that, so she took to rolling her eyes and scooting farther back on the saddle, so she was a half inch farther from him than before.
And then, just to add icing on the cake, the skies opened up and began to pour.
Audra had spied a café—at least this town had that—but Noel had been furious by then, offended that she kept calling him a cheat (at least she had the decency to say it to his face.
Everyone else at the academy was just saying it behind his back) and refused to let her pick the next move.
And that was when he’d spied the tavern.
“The Withered Hog?” she asked, sliding what felt like a hundred feet down off the massive stallion.
“That’s where you want to go?” Finally, her feet touched sweet, firm cobblestones.
She was back on solid ground! She gazed up at the crooked signpost swinging in the breeze.
Yeah, she’d read that right—the Withered Hog.
Noel tied the horse’s reins to a post alongside two other beautiful horses in front of the tavern, his scowl deepening.
“The least you can do is buy me a beer since I was generous enough to let you ride behind me.”
That was actually surprisingly decent of him.
When she’d turned down her own horse (to the surprise of the stable hand), she’d been preparing to walk to Green Barrow, and the thought of going through those creepy, dead, blighted woods alone made her want to cancel the trip entirely.
She’d been relieved when Noel had uttered the longest, most insufferable sigh anyone in all the realms had ever sighed before or would ever sigh again and offered her a ride behind him.
Audra had wanted to turn him down, just on the principle that he was a cheat and that nobody should sigh that long when they were raised so wealthy, but she remembered that she wasn’t stupid and accepted his offer.
“I would rather buy you a hot tea,” she muttered, staring longingly at the café. Mist, it was called The Cozy Kettle. The Cozy Kettle! The café had lace curtains in the windows dyed a charming shade of pink.
“Buy me a beer, and then, if we still have time, we can stop into the café.”
Audra cut her eyes at him sideways. Was he … being agreeable? Suspicious.
“Fine, one beer.” She followed him with her own sigh, but it didn’t even come close to rivaling his. The bastard had some serious lung power. No wonder he beat everyone in the Sabre trial.
At least she’d beat him where it counted. Incramancy.
At least she had that. Of course, she’d give that up in a heartbeat if Cersha could have come back.
Noel pushed open the door and held it open for her.
She refused to thank him as she walked in, stomping her muddy boots on the welcome mat. Nice, it had an unsettling, emaciated pig embroidered on it. At least they kept with the theme.
“Welcome in, travelers,” called the barkeep. “Have a seat anywhere that’s free.”
That was mostly everywhere; the tavern was surprisingly empty for being the only one in town.
“Do you want to sit at the bar or grab a booth?” Audra asked Noel because this was his idea; he was running this portion of their adventure.
“Booth.”
Audra turned back and surveyed the bar. It took her one second to see why he’d made the choice he had. The bar was littered with towers of unwashed cups, stacks of soiled plates, and some Green Barrow local (probably) was snoring loudly, his face pressed directly to the bar top.
They chose a center booth. Audra sat where she could see the door.
“Be with yous in a moment,” the barkeep hollered, friendly, as she hurried to the only other occupied table with two full cups.
Audra’s gaze tripped over the two males at the table.
Just like she knew instinctually that the drunk snoring on the bar was a local, she could tell right away that these two weren’t from Green Barrow.
They were dressed too well, for one. Adorned in lavish silks bearing intricate designs skillfully stitched with vibrant threads dyed with expensive ink, expertly tailored to contour to their muscled forms. One had black curly hair, kept long, but pulled up out of his face, knotted in a neat bun. Lovely brown skin and …
She frowned. That was strange.
When she scanned his face, it appeared to almost … blur. It made her eyes itch, like the time she’d seen her first galvanized incra—she’d wanted to glance away as it activated, changing the language of the assessment into her native tongue.
The other one, with buzzed hair and earrings, his face induced the same effect. She couldn’t seem to look at it for long without her gaze sliding away on its own accord.
If someone were to ask her what they looked like, to describe their features, she wouldn’t be able to; she was looking right at them and yet couldn’t say for sure if they had dark eyes or light, thick brows or none at all.
“Are you going to stare at those gentlemen all evening?” Noel asked, his expression amused.
“Is there something … off about them, to you?” she asked Noel in a hushed whisper.
He craned his neck to glance at them properly. She watched as his eyes immediately slid off the patrons like water gliding off duck feathers. Before turning back to her. “No. It’s rude to stare, you know.”
He hadn’t even noticed. He’d looked right at them and not been able to truly focus on their features, but he hadn’t even noticed it had happened.
The barkeep finally popped over, and they ordered two beers and the “chef’s choice special little bites.” Neither of them inquired what it was; both were curious what a chef working at a tavern like this would deem special.
After the barkeep walked away to relay their order to the chef and grab their beers, neither of them knew what to say.
Audra faked a cough just to fill the silence.
Her gaze slid back to the two males at the table by the door.
Looking at them made her uncomfortable; she wanted to squirm in her skin, but it was like having a sore tooth—she couldn’t stop worrying it, only not with her tongue but her eyes and her focus.
The sensation was uncomfortable, even a little painful—yet her gaze tripped back to them again and again.
Noel uttered a halves-ey of one of his insufferable sighs. “Glittering Mist, Audra, were you raised in a barn?”
Audra’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He crossed his arms.
“No, I was not raised in a barn, asshole.”
He deflated a bit, rubbing the back of his head. “You are just … still staring at those males. They’re going to think you want them to come over and sit with us. It’s indecent behavior for a lady.”
She briefly considered deflecting with a childish Why, ya jealous?
But she knew he wasn’t, so it wouldn’t be funny.
She couldn’t believe she was going to justify his indecent, ungentlemanly remark with an answer, but any conversation was better than this awkward silence. “I was raised in an inn, actually.”
He frowned, seeming confused for a moment, before realizing she was answering his rhetorical question. Then, a look of pure horror washed over his face. “Oh, my forgotten gods, Audra … were you …” He whispered, like it was a dirty word, “Homeless?”
Audra had to hold in her giggle. “Salted shells, Noel, you’re hopeless. You can’t even feign possession of a single empathetic bone in your body! No, you noble brat, my family owned an inn.” She huffed back in her seat. “But mist, imagine if I had been, you would’ve made me feel like shit!”
He had the decency to wince. “You’re right. I need to do better now that I’m in mixed company.”
“ ‘Mixed’ company?” She rolled her eyes. “You mean now that the only people you interact with didn’t cut their teeth on bars of gold?” Maybe she should’ve embraced the awkward silence when she’d had the chance.
He nodded, ignoring her sarcasm. “It is odd, right? That I’m the only initiate of noble birth out of almost two hundred.”
Audra shrugged. “Not really. Weren’t you the one who insisted that your bloodline would never have been ‘soiled’ by fae blood? It seems most of the other nobles in Zenaida felt the same.” She grinned. “Only someone in your ancestral line didn’t have a problem rolling around a barn with the fae.”
He looked uncomfortable just thinking about the circumstances that might explain how he, an upstanding noble citizen of Khaveah, ended up in a Zenaidan tavern with the likes of her.
She thanked the barmaid for the beers she set before them. Noel, she noticed, ignored the barmaid’s existence as though she hadn’t just served them. Weren’t nobles supposed to have better manners?
“You being of ‘noble’ birth is irrelevant. Social class is a fabricated system by your kind to hoard wealth and justify your greedy tendencies by making you feel ordained somehow, entitled to more than your share of resources. I mean, what are you a … a …” Forgotten gods, she really didn’t know the intricate rankings of upper-class social hierarchy. “A baron? An earl?”
He scowled. “I’m in line to be the next duke of Woodlake. Or, I guess I would have been.”
She’d offended him, good. “Right, so you’re a duke or what have you.
You aren’t a prince, Noel, destined to become the next king of Ruscal—you’re just a person whose old, dead, relative was gifted a made-up title and too much land by an old, dead, king.
” Damn, he looked distraught. Had nobody ever spelled this out to him before?
Was he born in a barn? She decided to indulge him.
“What is odd, though, is that we are one of the few here at all. Think about it: There are tens of thousands of humans born the same year as us, right? I’m from an inconsequential village.
I mean, Salt Hollow is so small that you can’t even find it on most Ruscal maps, let alone Khaveah, and even in my tiny village, there were still loads of kids born the same year as me.
So, imagine if we account for every single nation in Khaveah?
You would think there would be thousands of us, you know.
Born between 14,546 and 14,548 with fae lineage. ”
He perked up. “Right, which means I can’t be the only highborn.” He ran a hand through his silken hair. “You think they missed some?”
Wow, he was determined to miss the point.
Noel continued, excitedly, “If I’m not the only one … if there are more like me, then imagine if they left the Heir behind in Khaveah?”
Audra choked on her warm beer, and not just because it was foul. She choked because the last thing she wanted to do was get on the subject of whether or not the Heir had been accurately located.
“This beer is rank,” she said, changing the subject.
It suddenly dawned on her that this was a wasted trip. She’d done all that preparation to win the Arcane incramancy trial so she could find out the truth about the rite, and here she was, forced to have a beer with Noel the Insufferable Noble, and the beer wasn’t even good.
If the locals weren’t going to be any help, maybe a pair of mysterious outsiders could be. Her eyes drifted back to the pair by the door, but the table was empty.
Odd, she hadn’t seen them get up, but then again, wasn’t that why they were spelled? So folks wouldn’t notice them? Just, something had gone wrong when it came to her, because she bet the incras they’d inscribed were supposed to make it so folks didn’t notice not noticing them.
“I knew it,” Noel muttered. “I told you, Audra.”
“Told me what?” she asked, tearing her gaze from the now empty table to focus back on Noel, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was scowling upward, looking at something or someone behind her.
And then, a deep, familiar voice asked, “Do you travelers have room for two more?”