The Ivory Spoon
WREN
My muscles are aching, reminding me that we rode all night to get here. Chaos has been brushed and stabled, and I hope he’s getting a good rest. He deserves it.
Gabriel, Mist, and I are all still shaken from our encounter with Hedran the day before last. After we left the dead Hunter’s body, we rode for several more hours before finding refuge in a small cave. Neither Gabriel nor I slept much as the suns rose, then fell.
But we made it here, and I’m hoping we’ll be able to sleep well soon. The inn doubles as a tavern, and a handful of drunken patrons are milling around round wooden tables, speaking loudly.
Oil lanterns are burning low, empty tankards are lined up on the counter, and a woman with forest green hair is wiping down tables. An unoccupied piano sits by the front door. A small fire blazes in the hearth, keeping the winter’s chill at bay.
My hood is on, and I’m keeping my head down, in case someone recognizes me. I didn’t see any posters with my face on them as we walked in, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some in the nearby town.
We are standing at the bar at the back where a balding, rotund man had been wiping down cups and barking orders at the woman until Gabriel had leaned over the counter, clearing his throat to get his attention.
I had been tired when we arrived, but now I’m wide awake.
“There’s a specialty market in town for the week, and our rooms are full, save one.” The innkeeper continues speaking, but his words sound muffled and far away.
This can’t be normal, right? What kind of inn only has one room available? Isn’t supplying weary travelers such as us with a place to rest our heads a cornerstone of their business plan?
Gabriel rolls up his sleeves, resting his forearms on the counter as he leans forward and says something else to the innkeeper. He flexes his fingers, the muscles in his forearm rippling, and . . .
What is wrong with me? This isn’t the moment to admire the Hunter, no matter how good he looks.
“Fine.” Thank the suns, Gabriel’s low timbre snaps me out of my forearm-induced haze before I can do something incredibly embarrassing, like touch his muscles to see if they’re as hard as they look. “We’ll take it.”
Then his words register.
“Wait, really?” My eyes fling to the innkeeper, and I barely remember to keep my head down so he can’t see my incriminating Mark. “You’re truly out of rooms?”
The innkeeper rubs his temples.
“Esyn save me from these customers,” he mutters.
I don’t think I was supposed to hear that, because when he continues, his voice is much louder.
“No, miss. As I told your companion, you can either share a room or go sleep in the stables. Those are your only options. Fucking decide and let me get back to work.”
My mouth opens, and I’m about to offer to take my chances with the horses, when Gabriel’s hand clamps around my wrist. His touch is warm, and tingles race through me from the point of contact. I close my mouth, words promptly forgotten.
“Thank you, sir.” The Hunter slides a few coins across the bar in exchange for a small brass key. “The room will be . . . fine.”
No, it won’t be. Sharing a horse with Gabriel has been one thing—it’s been necessary—but this feels different. Closer, somehow. I don’t say that, though, because my mouth seems to have stopped working. The objection gets stuck in my throat.
Behind us, one of the remaining patrons starts performing a rather interesting drunken rendition of The Suns’ Blessings. The hymn, meant to honor Mareeth and Nilam, is being sung off-key at the top of the patron’s lungs.
The innkeeper shakes his head, cursing as he throws his towel on the counter and stomps towards the impromptu singer. “Enough, Ylias.”
Gabriel’s hold around my wrist doesn’t let up as he scoops up our bag with his free hand and tugs me towards the rickety stairs.
The rowdy man belts:
“Mareeth will light your path,
Nilam will guide your way.
Stray not from the right,
Move not from their light.
Bright, bright, bright are the golden suns!”
The last line is a drunken yell, and I’m fairly certain those aren’t the right words, but there is something to be said about the performer’s enthusiasm.
The lower level disappears while the innkeeper shouts at the singer. I’m chuckling to myself as Gabriel leads me to a door halfway down the hall.
“This is us.” He stops in front of a door marked with a four.
Us.
Such a peculiar word. Two letters, yet it carries so much weight. Especially when the Hunter uses it to include me.
The drunk starts singing again, this tune much bawdier in nature. When he compares a woman’s bosom to a pair of melons, another chuckle slips from my mouth, and I sag against the doorframe.
Gabriel glances at me. “Something funny, little bird?”
“Oh, you know.” I attempt to gesture in the direction we’d come from, but my hand flops in the air. “That.”
I must be even more tired than I originally thought, because keeping my head up suddenly feels like the most strenuous of tasks.
How does Gabriel manage to look so gods-damned chipper and handsome at the same time? Other than the slight darkness beneath his eyes, he doesn’t even seem tired. It isn’t fair.
“No, I don’t know.” He turns the key, leaving it in the lock to return his eyes to mine. “Enlighten me.”
“It’s just . . . this.” I point to him, then me. As if that explains anything.
I swear he’s biting back a chuckle. “Oh?”
I wave my hand towards the door. “And . . . this whole . . . room situation. Quite frankly, it’s a lot.”
And I’m fucking exhausted. From today, from riding, and from being around Gabriel and dealing with the pull I feel towards him. Wanting him and not giving in to those desires is wearing me down.
“And this . . . amuses you?” He arches a brow.
How do I tell him I’m laughing so I don’t cry? That weariness is etched into my very bones and infused into the core of my being.
I’m not sure how to properly articulate it, at least not in this state, so I don’t try. “Yes, it does.”
“All right. If you say so.” He pushes open the door. “We should . . . Oh.”
There’s something about the tone of his voice, the stiffening of his shoulders, and his sharp inhale of breath that has alarm bells ringing in my mind.
“What’s wrong? Is it . . . Oh. Oh, no.” I peer around him, immediately understanding the problem. It’s all about size—or the lack thereof—because this is a very small room with one equally small-sized bed clearly meant for one person.
My fingers tighten on the doorframe, and a lump forms in my throat.
“So this is the room,” Gabriel says, still standing beside me. “It’s . . .”
“Tiny,” I say.
For the suns’ sakes, I’ve seen bigger closets. Even the sole window isn’t very large. It’s as if this room were built for dolls and not people. I could cross it in five paces, maybe less.
Gabriel makes a sound of agreement in the back of his throat. I’m of half a mind to go downstairs and tell the innkeeper that I’ve changed my mind—I’ll take the stables—but before I can do that, movement comes from down the hall.
A door opens, and a cloaked woman steps outside. She’s chatting with someone still in the room, and her face is turned away from us, but that doesn’t stop me from noticing the badge on her chest or the sword on her hip.
She’s a soldier—an Enforcer. There’s a tightness in my chest that has nothing to do with the size of our room or Gabriel’s proximity. There are four types of soldiers in the realm: Watchers, Enforcers, Protectors, and Hunters.
What is she doing here? Is she looking for me?
Panic buzzes, and there’s a sharp ringing in my ears. My tiredness vanishes, replaced by sheer alarm.
“Fuck,” Gabriel breathes. His hand lands on the small of my back, and he pushes me towards the room. “Get in, now.”
Did he know I needed his help? That fear had frozen my legs, and without him, I would’ve been incapable of movement?
I’m standing inside the door, shaking like a leaf, and I can’t seem to make it stop. The soldier was so close, and once again, it felt like I was standing in front of my death. If she’d turned and looked at me, this all would’ve been over.
First, Hunter Erlet. Now, this. Will I never experience a moment of peace?
Gabriel follows me inside, shutting the door and sliding the deadbolt across the top. He turns the lock, which falls with a resounding click that booms despite the ringing in my ears.
Removed from harm’s path, I should be able to breathe easily, but I can’t. How long can I outrun danger before it catches up with me?
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to take in air, but there is a fist compressing my lungs. I feel hot and cold at once, like my body is trying to understand what’s happening to me but it can’t seem to grasp what should be normal.
“Birdie?” Gabriel’s low voice shakes something loose inside me, and I open my eyes to find him standing right in front of me.
He takes my hands in his, but even the heat from his touch can’t shake the anxiety racing through me.
A panicked, mangled gasp escapes me.
“It’s okay,” he says quietly.
Is it? Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t seem that way. It might never be okay again.
“Breathe,” he instructs. “Inhale.” He waits for me to follow his direction, and even though it’s hard, the fist gripping my lungs loosens a fraction. I draw a breath and hold it. Several beats pass before he instructs me to exhale, and I do.
“Good. Again.” His eyes never waver from mine as I comply.
He is patient as I focus on my breathing, my heart rate slowly returning to normal.
After several minutes have passed, he blows out a long breath. “There you go.” A small, relieved smile crosses his lips, and suns take me, when did I start noticing the Hunter’s minuscule facial expressions? “How do you feel?”
“Honestly?” A crazed laugh slips from my lips. “Awful. That was far too close.”
How many more close calls can we have before everything goes wrong?
Gabriel pushes down his hood, raking his hand through his hair. “We’ll have to be more careful.”