Chapter 24
I was completely dazed as I walked down the staircase to the tavern of the inn, trying to figure out what in the gods’ good names had happened and what had gotten into Jama.
I was pissed and hurt, and she could rot somewhere for all I cared.
When I arrived downstairs at the tavern, I didn’t want to think about this nightmare of a fucking situation anymore and searched for some distraction.
It didn’t take long before I spotted a group of four men playing a card game.
Without hesitation, I took an empty chair and sat down.
My comrades were nowhere to be seen, which was for the better, because Fig had ordered us to stay out of the public eye, but I’d deal with his anger later.
If he thought I’d allow him to boss me around today of all days, he could go and rot right next to Jama.
“Bring me a bottle of your strongest spirit.” Ignoring how the barmaid batted her eyelashes at me, I just barked my order.
I was in enough trouble with females as it was without adding mediocre flirtations to the mix.
Instead, I threw some coins in her direction, ignored her offended scoff, and placed the rest of my money on the table in front of me.
The dealer, who was a brute so enormous, he dwarfed even me by more than a head—that I felt small next to someone had rarely occurred to me before—grunted in approval and introduced himself as Rufos. He smelled as if he hadn’t bothered washing in months, but I couldn’t care less.
The man seated next to him owned a face that bore the brutal marks of a meat grinder accident, with a multitude of scars that trailed down his neck and vanished beneath his tunic.
I glanced at his hands, and they were scarred as well.
Still, his clothes were surprisingly clean and were definitely too fine for a seedy place like this.
“That’s Cutter.” The giant called Rufos grinned and emptied his glass before grabbing a full one already standing in front of him.
“No one knows his real name. He can’t speak.
We gave him his nickname because he constantly uses knives or razor blades on himself.
He even cut out his own tongue. His whore looks almost the same, and we all believe it’s some kind of kink they’re having. ”
Cutter glared at Rufos and, while banging his fist on the table, played around with a switchblade he gripped in his other hand.
“Yes, yes, I know, Cutter. Marlie is your wife, but you know I call her a whore. She has to be one to deal with a big oaf like you.”
I was no stranger to kinks, and I could relate to knives potentially spicing up a good fuck, but this was too extreme, even for my taste.
But I kept my mouth shut because as long as it was consensual and they had their fun, it wasn’t my place to shame them—that’s where I drew my line. Kink shaming—and rape.
“I’m Lor.” I turned to the person speaking and realized this Lor was a woman by birth, only that they possessed very masculine features and very short, dark blonde hair.
It was their voice giving them away. They were maybe in their thirties and wore no choker.
Instead, they were dressed in men’s clothes, and even if I were generous, I wouldn’t call them clean.
I canted my head as I tried to discern how much of their appearance was a disguise choice and how much was their authentic self.
“Don’t get any ideas, pretty boy. Lor doesn’t play for your team. She’s into women.” The last man at the table flashed an almost toothless grin in my direction as I studied Lor—maybe a little too long.
I glared at him and shook my head at his insinuation. A flippant retort got lost on my tongue as my attention was momentarily diverted by the barmaid, who brought me my drink.
Making a show of uncorking the bottle of colorless mystery schnapps while holding the gaze of Toothless, I ignored the glass in front of me and instead took a good mouthful of the—surprisingly strong—stuff, and I was pretty satisfied with myself and my choice of drink.
It would do its purpose—I would be damned if I thought about Jama tonight. So, I took another gulp.
“As if you have any idea which team I play for,” I grumbled to answer the man who still hadn’t introduced himself.
“Easy. You’re obviously having a shit day. Considering you’re wearing one of those fancy arm cuffs, I strongly presume it’s because of lady trouble. Also because I saw you with that tiny pretty blonde earlier when you arrived. Damn, your wife’s a looker, but shit, she seemed pissed.”
I just grunted and drank another swig, unwilling to address anything involving my fake wife. “Fuck all of that. Fuck her.” Shit, if I was correct, my voice was already slightly slurring, proving once again that I had zero alcohol tolerance.
“By Noelk’s balls, yes, fuck them bitches!” Rufos grinned. “And by the way, the impolite bastard with the most beautiful smile you can find in Kalcas is Alby. Since you carry coins and I like you, feel free to join our game. Well, if you tell us your name that is.”
“Timenth.” Luckily, I was still sober enough to use my fake name.
And just like that, I was included in the game.
Only five rounds of Gods and Godlings later, and I was more than just a little drunk.
The strong schnapps went down smoothly, so the longer I drank, the less inclined I was to stop, and I had to admit that the alcohol was starting to affect me.
Not only was the constant humming in my blood silenced, which was the telltale sign of my magic dampening, but my success in the card game also waned.
I didn’t care about either, even though sober me would have been mortified that I’d confused Kalag, the god of the pantheon—and the one all soldiers worshiped—with Pawon, the minor godling of bovine health.
Normally, I avoided both limiting my power and embarrassing myself at all costs, but as I mentioned before, I didn’t fucking care.
The more I drank, the more I became the laughingstock for my company, another thing I didn’t care about.
I was drunk and angry and had lost almost all my money and briefly wondered what everyone who knew me would think if they could see me like this.
Well that, and I asked myself where in Kalcas I could make a donation to Pawon at this time of night.
It seemed like a good idea and the right thing to do.
When I voiced this question, the whole table roared with laughter, but no one could answer my inquiry.
What a useless bunch. They could fuck off too.
Just like Jama. Beautiful Nayana, who held the power to unravel me so easily.
With narrowed eyes, I made up my mind to announce something extremely important to my fellow card gamers. “She threw me out, but I swear to Pawon, I won’t accept that!”
Alby nudged Cutter. “Told you he’s in trouble with a woman.”
My eyes zeroed in on them, and I spotted a coin change hands while Lor and Rufos hooted and hollered.
I still didn’t care, instead I emptied the rest of my bottle in one go and got up. “This is my cue!” It didn’t even make sense in my own head, but my new gaming friends laughed nonetheless. I swayed as the world spun around me, and it took an eternity to reach the stairs.
I’d lost all of my elegance to the schnapps, and as I climbed the stairs, I nearly tripped at the top when the last step simply wasn’t there, even though I could see it with my own eyes.
Having conquered the ascend, at last, I reached our door and ripped it open.
“You’ll talk to me, Jama. Do you hear me?
” I slurred and shut the door behind me.
“Get up and talk to me, coward!” I stilled as the room stayed eerily silent. Nayana was nowhere to be seen.
An overwhelming sense of dread broke through my alcohol-induced befuddlement and consumed me as a troubling suspicion crept into my mind, leading me to meticulously search every possible hiding place, from under the bed to inside the wardrobe and the dark corners of the room.
Even in my intoxicated state, it didn’t take me long to grasp that Nayana had indeed vanished.
Some people claimed they’d sober up instantly in a situation of urgency.
I called that bullshit, or at least I was none of them.
My thoughts were sluggish as I tried to grasp what could have happened.
There was no sign of a struggle. Maybe she was with one of the others?
Was she in Thain’s room? The thought alone had my temper flare up hot and high as a red film slid across my vision, and I was about to storm into my nemesis’ room.
If she was with him, I’d finally kill him.
Maybe even if she wasn’t. I didn’t need to be sober or have magic at my disposal to obliterate Thain easily—that much was certain.
Fucking Courtling. I hoped they’d all die gruesome deaths one day.
I was almost out the door when I registered the open window.
I frowned and realized I couldn’t spot Nayana’s bag.
Mine was still propped against the wall, but it had definitely been fuller earlier—it looked as if someone had raided it.
“Fuck,” I cursed, and deep inside, reality sank in.
She had done what I’d feared from the beginning and ran away.
And why? I didn’t even know, for fuck’s sake.
“Fuck!” I repeated, snarling. Nayana was gone, and stupid me was drunk and powerless.
My intoxicated state didn’t help to suppress the rising panic crawling up my spine. I couldn’t think straight. Despite my harsh words from earlier, I had to find her. Was this my fault because I’d told her I wouldn’t care if she got caught? Damn, I had to get my head together.
Slower than usual, I made a plan. Nayana didn’t know it, but I possessed a way to find her even without magic, and it was the only consolidation I got. I just hoped she hadn’t been attacked or had already been taken.