Chapter 25
Thornveil forest seemed endless.
They had been traveling through it for three full days and the trees showed no sign of thinning.
The towering pines made a massive cathedral above them, endless and twisted. Snow fell from their dark skirts high above them, melting into rain before sinking into the soggy ground.
Dirt and pine needles crunched under Hank's hooves as they passed through a mist that hung over the forest floor. Strange white mushrooms bloomed below them from rotting logs.
They traveled for most of the day before they found a small village tucked between a field of great pines.
They approached a tavern that looked like it had given up on existing.
It leaned crookedly to one side like it had lost an argument with gravity years ago and never quite recovered.
Its rough-hewn walls leaned to the right with windows and doors fixed at odd, crooked angles.
Thin ribbons of light slipped through the gaps between the timbers.
The sagging roof was so thick with moss it was more green than gray.
Mirielle was so tired from sleeping on bedrolls it looked like a castle.
"That looks safe," Kellan mused.
"It's still standing," Dane said with a shrug.
"Barely."
Reis dismounted from Hank before gently pulling Mirielle down after him.
"We're stopping."
The smell of roasting meat and ale drifted from inside. Mirielle's stomach betrayed her with a small growl and Lettie hid a smile between her teeth.
They tied their horses under an awning and the party walked towards the crooked door.
Light spilled through the cracks between wood planks and over the threshold.
The door was unusually large for a tavern.
Mirielle hadn't seen doors that large since Ambersaith.
Above the door hung a sign with a tilted tree painted on it.
The Drunken Timber was etched into its rim.
Warm air rolled over them, carrying the scent of wet wood, roasted deer and ale as they pushed the door open.
A group of drunk hunters argued over a game of cards while someone in the corner played the fiddle badly.
A pair of gruff-looking merchants relaxed in front of the hearth fire.
They were only wearing holey wool socks having set their boots near the fire to warm.
As soon as Mirielle passed the threshold, she immediately and forcefully retreated into Reis's chest.
She looked up wide-eyed at the massive creature standing only feet in front of her.
It was easily ten feet tall. Its head was oddly shaped, its ears far too large, its head somehow flattened.
It had limbs like a human but it was thin like a pole bent oddly to one side so its head wouldn't scrape the high ceiling.
The creature crooked its neck to look down at her.
She made a small fearful sound. Her spine had gone rigid against him. Her breathing turned quick and shallow.
“Mirielle.”
“There is a troll.”
The tavern fell quiet.
The troll lifted its hand in a wave.
"Evenin." He flashed a set of yellow crooked teeth at Mirielle. The image of a severed human arm between them rose uninvited in Mirielle's mind and sent hair standing all over her body.
She blinked, hoping it would disappear.
It didn't.
“There is a troll.”
"Yes,” Reis informed her.
Mirielle pressed closer into his chest as if she could hide inside of him.
The troll frowned.
“A bit rude, that.”
A few patrons chuckled. Lettie covered her smile with her glove. Dane looked mildly annoyed with the entire room.
Kellan looked as though Klausternaus had come early. “Oh, this is my favorite.”
Mirielle did not hear him. The troll was still there, right in front of her.
With a wounded scoff, the troll lumbered back toward the hall carrying an overlarge mug of ale and dropped into an overlarge chair at the hunters' table. He picked up a hand of cards between two fingers.
Reis wrapped his arms protectively around Mirielle's shoulders, reminding her that she was safe with him, and spoke just next to her ear. “Trolls are citizens in Kaldyr.”
Mirielle blinked several times.
“They live here.”
“Oh.”
The troll leaned forward and glared at her. “You afraid of me?”
Mirielle somehow became even stiffer. Reis felt it under his arm and flexed his grip. “I am trying very hard not to be.” Her voice was impossibly small beside the troll's.
“You’re doing wonderfully,” Reis said through a smile that tugged at the edge of his mouth.
The troll sat back. “That’s fair." Then he jerked his chin toward Reis. "I’m afraid of him.”
A chuckle rolled through the tavern. One of the hunters lifted his mug.
“Hey, King.”
“Mm?”
“That the wife you bought?”
Dane’s mood visibly declined.
Reis tilted his head.
“Yes.”
The hunter nodded solemnly.
“Can I return mine?”
The tavern erupted. Even Reis was smiling.
Mirielle, however, looked horrified.
"You can do that?"
The laughter stumbled. The hunter stared at her. "What?"
"Return wives."
Kellan's smile vanished. Dane now looked murderous again. The hunter's expression softened. "Oh. No, lass." A few chuckles rolled through the room.
"But you said..."
"It was a joke, lass," the hunter said kindly.
She looked up at Reis, uncertainty painted over her face. "You can't return wives?"
And suddenly Reis understood. Of course she would. A princess traded between kingdoms, a girl raised as a bargaining chip. The idea wasn't funny to her—it was plausible.
"No, Mirielle," he said softly as she searched his face for a lie.
Reis slipped his arm down to her waist, gently drawing her against him.
"Nobody can return wives." Her silver eyes still searched him fearfully.
His thumb drew soothing circles into her side.
"And even if they could..." He smiled down at her crookedly. "I wouldn't."
The tavern watched their exchange in quiet awe.
Finally, after what felt like eons, a woman at the hunters' table with a long blonde braid down her back elbowed the man next to her. "See, Kendrick, why can't you be more like that?"
"I didn't say nothin."
"Aye, that's the problem."
Chuckles swept through the tavern and it seemed to breathe comfortably again.
Mirielle searched Reis. Reis only gave her a small, reassuring smile and led her to a long rough table near the hearth fire.
Dane went about angrily retrieving drinks from a newly terrified barmaid.
As soon as Reis sat down, one of the hunters looked up from his cards.
"Ey, King."
Reis tilted his head towards him.
"You going to buy us a round?"
"No."
"Cheap bastard." He looked back at his cards. Then a slow grin rolled over the hunter's face. "Tell me something, princess..."
"It's queen," Reis interrupted without looking up.
It fell like an axe on wood. The tavern hushed into a tepid silence. The blood seemed to leave the hunter's face all at once. "Right, Queen."
Reis leaned back in his chair and the tension in the room vanished.
"You nearly died," another hunter teased.
"I corrected meeself."
"After he corrected you."
"Still counts."
Heat crept into Mirielle's cheeks.
"Right, anyway. Tell me, queen, did he actually court you before he married you?"
Mirielle looked at Reis.
Reis looked at the ceiling.
The tavern exploded.
"He didn't!"
"I knew it!"
"Not even flowers?"
Mirielle rubbed her thumbs beneath all the attention.
"I was sick."
The laughter died. The hunters exchanged glances. "Did he take care of ye?"
Mirielle nodded shyly.
Reis looked down at her, small sitting beside him. There was quiet protectiveness in his gaze, tempered by the sorrow of remembering how close he had come to losing her.
The hunter watched them and sighed. "I guess that counts."
"It most certainly does not," Kellan declared from next to Lettie. "Every woman deserves to be courted correctly. Especially the queen."
Mirielle turned a fantastic shade of pink. Reis looked very regretful about the whole thing.
The huntress pointed at Kellan. "Finally a sensible man."
"Thank you!" He threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. "I've been waiting for someone to notice."
Kellan immediately looked at Lettie. "Speaking of my superior courtship abilities, Lettie, has anyone told you that you are unfairly pretty?"
Lettie froze.
Then, slowly, very slowly, her cheeks turned pink. Then her ears. Then her entire face.
Kellan stopped functioning.
The tavern watched the transformation happen in awe.
Dane arrived with a tray of drinks, took one look at the situation and visibly regretted returning.
"Oh ho," the troll chuckled.
Lettie shifted under the stares. "What?"
Kellan stared at her. "You blushed." The statement came with the awe of a man discovering fire.
Her blush somehow deepened.
Kellan hid a smile. "Did everyone see that?" Kellan pointed at Lettie. "Undeniable proof."
"You complimented her," Dane said, falling into his chair. "That's normally how that works."
Kellan ignored him.
"You never blush."
"I blush sometimes."
"You don't."
"I do."
Her color was now bright red splashed over scattered freckles.
"There she goes again."
"What?"
"Looking like that and pretending you don't know what you're doing to me." The words slipped out softer than his usual teasing.
Lettie blinked at him. Dane drank deeply from his mug. "I miss fighting forest monsters."
Kellan looked at Dane, offended. "Monsters don't blush at me."
"Most creatures have survival instincts."
Lettie grabbed a chunk of bread and threw it at Dane—who caught it without even looking.
Then the traitor ate it.
Cheers went up from the surrounding tables and Lettie buried her face in her hands.
The argument devolved from there into complete and utter nonsense. Something about goats and their ability to mate with sheep.
At some point in the night, Lettie forgot to hide her smile. Dane looked genuinely amused. Mirielle relaxed into Reis and the troll, whose name they discovered was Grom, drank so much they had to prop him up with a table.
Outside, the dark forest waited for them, but the tavern barred it away with light and laughter.