Chapter 18 #2
Leaves crunch beneath me as I walk toward him. He stands still, his back turned to me. His tall frame is bathed in sunlight, broad shoulders cutting through a ray as it tries to reach the forest floor.
“I could use a drink right about now,” I say.
He turns to me, a lopsided smile on his face. It jars me. A smile is the last thing I expected after the crushing conversation we just had with Torben and Artis.
“Let’s go then.”
I narrow my eyes. Surely I didn’t hear him correctly. “We have to go back ho—to the house. Ivan will be worried. And what about Cally? I need to check on her.”
He dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand. “Come on,” he says, tugging me against him. “They won’t be expecting us for hours. Let’s be normal for a second and just go grab a drink before we have to think about what comes next.”
The memory of sitting at the tavern with Asmo, of forgetting everything for an hour as we played billiards…of being normal hybrids. “Okay,” I whisper.
The air blurs around us as we funnel out of the Ursine forest and land back in Bouldercrest. Luckily, nobody—human, hybrid, or witch—is at the portal location when the funnel releases us from its grasp. Asmo and I, stupidly, didn’t think to use our sigils to change our appearances before we left.
I fumble for the knife at my side and begin to press the blade into my skin, but Asmo’s hand clamps around my wrist. He takes the knife from my hand and kneels before me, reminding me of a time from before. Him on his knees, pushing the hem of my dress up, his thumb grazing my scars.
“I hate that you have to do this,” he whispers, holding the blade to my stomach.
“Me, too,” I whisper breathlessly, feeling the tingle of goosebumps erupting at his touch. But if it keeps me from being hidden away, secluded in a dusty cabin, if it helps me live, it’s a sacrifice I’ll make—again and again.
He carves the mark into the plane of my stomach, over the still-healing scar of the last one. “As are you, as am I,” I whisper.
Asmo changes into his usual disguise and reaches for my hand.
We walk down the path in silence, then join the bustling foot traffic.
We come to a stop outside of a dilapidated building.
Pink paint peels from the facade, and a shattered window reveals an empty bar.
A sign hangs precariously from a rusted nail above the door. The Famous Peaks Inn.
The inside is no better than the outside.
The stench of beer and stale food grows stronger with every step closer to an empty bar that’s seen better days.
Asmo pulls out a barstool, the cotton on the seat stained and pilling.
I refrain from crinkling my nose in disgust before I take a careful seat, praying to the Mother that it doesn’t fall apart.
To my immense surprise, Asmo looks right at home.
He places his elbows right onto the sticky counter and motions toward the bartender, a male who seems to be as old as the inn.
His clothes are disheveled and stained, gray hair shaggy and out of place.
Gray, furry ears peak out from his hair.
I almost miss them with how perfectly they blend in.
“What can I get ya?” he asks Asmo.
“Pitcher of light ale. Two glasses.”
The bartender slides the glasses toward us, then sets a full pitcher in front of us. Asmo chills a glass with his magic and fills it with the ale. He offers it to me, and I nearly down the whole glass.
It’s crisp and light and sends a delicious buzz straight to my head. It’s undoubtedly the best beer I’ve ever had.
Asmo watches me with crinkled eyes as he downs his own glass. He pours himself another and tops mine off.
“Good, right?” he asks, leaning back onto the creaky stool.
I take another sip. “I didn’t know beer could taste this good.”
“I’d never lead you astray, princess.” He reaches for my mouth, wiping away the foam from the quick pour with his thumb. I avert my gaze as I remember the last time his thumb was on my mouth—when I asked him to marry me and he said no.
I down the rest of my drink and pour myself another. “How did you know about this place?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t. Lucky guess based on its appearance. Places like this are the best for a cold beer. That’s just one of the rules of the world.”
He might have a point. Cally and I used to visit the most popular taverns and pubs on nights out. Although the music and atmosphere were incredible, the drinks were always too expensive and frankly, gross.
“How did you discover that rule?” I ask.
He looks straight ahead, the light from the window hitting the sharp line of his jaw. “Whenever Marik and I wanted a normal night out or to go for a drink without having to be us, we’d search for a pub on the outskirts of the court.”
Marik. His brother. My husband. The one who betrayed us both.
We both fall quiet. Asmo takes another huge swallow of his beer.
“This sucks,” I mutter.
Asmo snorts. “What in particular?” He wipes a bead of condensation from his glass.
Great question. Everything. Hiding in abandoned dusty homes. Waking up and feeling the weight of the kingdom on my chest, so heavy I feel like I can’t breathe. The feeling that nobody believes in me to save this kingdom. The fact that I don’t even believe in myself.
What am I supposed to do against all of this? I’ve only just begun to grasp my magic, but I still don’t even know how to funnel or portal or—“Can you teach me how to shift?”
Asmo cocks his head. “You don’t know how?”
I kick him under the table. “Save it. Don’t you think I would have already if I could? I don’t even know if I can,” I admit.
He takes another swig of his drink, then sets it on the table gently. “I didn’t mean it like that. I would bet my life that you can.”
“What makes you so sure?” Why do you believe in me so much when I don’t believe in myself?
“Have you forgotten that you’re the first of Wrena’s line?”
“What good is that when I’ve spent the last almost twenty-six years of my life barely skimming the surface of my magic?”
He shrugs. “Fair point. When we get back, I’ll teach you to shift. While we’re at it, is there anything else you’d like me to teach you?” he asks with a mischievous grin.
I bump my shoulder into his. It barely moves him, but his beer sloshes in his glass. His answering chuckle rumbles through his chest, sending warm embers into my own.