Chapter 27
MYRA
"Look! There’s an inn up ahead," Rian said, pointing toward a quaint building in between the cypress trees. "We should take the chance to sleep in a bed while we can. Once we cross the border, the chances of being recognized will increase tenfold."
Myra looked at the captain. They had been riding since dawn, and dusk was coming in faster than any of them would have liked. After trudging through the swamps, a good night’s rest sounded too good to pass up.
"I suppose you have a point," Laurince said, albeit reluctantly. "Although, it’s not our fault you stick out like a brick in a pile of sticks. Maybe you should sleep outside in a tree, and we’ll get rooms for ourselves."
"Ha! If I have to sleep outside, you do too," Rian said, jumping off his horse.
Laurince followed, his boots slamming against the ground.
He mumbled something unintelligible and pulled Rian’s hood further down his head, covering his deep auburn hair.
Rian swatted at the captain’s hand, and Myra rolled her eyes.
The two men continued to bicker as they handed their horses to the stable hand.
She almost regretted accompanying them. The last time they had traveled together, none of them had been too eager to converse, their minds weighed by the horrors they had barely escaped in Ardentol.
It seemed that was no longer the case. Laurince and Rian bickered like an old married couple, neither agreeing with anything the other said unless it was about food or sleep.
And even those topics often resulted in a long-winded debate.
"Let’s just see if they have a room, all right?" Myra asked.
Rian looked over his shoulder at her, his green eyes hopeful. "Can we also see if they have something to eat?"
Laurince’s stomach growled. "That’s actually not a bad idea."
When they turned to Myra, waiting for an answer, she sighed. Sometimes, Myra couldn’t believe these two men held such prestigious titles.
"Very well."
They both gave her wide grins. Laurince yanked the door open.
Inside, the warmth of a burning hearth wrapped around Myra’s frigid limbs, dispersing the creeping night’s chill.
Notes of fresh bread, cinnamon, and thyme sprinkled the air and instantly had her mouth salivating.
A large chandelier hung from the wooden ceiling, casting a warm light upon the tables topped with flickering candles.
But it was neither the warmth nor the comforting scent of baked goods that made Myra’s entire body sag in relief.
For the first time in a long time, there wasn’t a single feeling of hostility, rage, or fear.
The emotions swirling in the tavern were light and playful.
The brightly colored threads brushed her cheeks like a gentle caress.
The only dredge of paranoia she sensed came from the two men beside her, and even their anxiety had dwindled by several degrees since entering.
It was as if a spell had been cast over the building that forced merriment upon its patrons.
Whatever it was, it had the three of them bee-lining to the innkeeper at the bar, their steps perkier than they had been only seconds before.
The innkeeper was a tall, thin woman. Her blonde hair was tied in a knot that sat on top of her head.
Small curls framed her face, the ends bleeding into a black tint as if she had dipped the bottom half of her hair in a bucket of ink.
When she faced them, the strands of multicolored crystals dangling from her ear clattered harmoniously.
Wiping her palms on the front of her beige apron, the woman smiled at Rian. "How can I help you, handsome?"
With a cocky smirk, Rian rolled up his sleeves and leaned on the bar, his gaze momentarily lowering to where a large selenite pendulum necklace rested on the woman’s collarbone. "That depends. Are you on the menu by chance?"
The woman laughed. Throwing the towel she held over her shoulder, she grabbed a loose string hanging lazily between her breasts and twisted the slim fabric around her index finger.
Laurince pressed a hand against Myra’s back. "Come on," he said, nodding toward the tables. "Let’s grab a table while he sorts out the rooms."
Myra nodded, not caring to see Rian carelessly flirt his way into a room.
Laurince patted Rian on the back and winked at the woman. "In case he forgets to ask, we’d like two rooms, please."
Before the innkeeper could respond, Laurince ushered Myra forward, letting her lead the way.
She wove between the tables, offering the other patrons polite smiles as she passed.
The inn must have been a popular location, for most of the tables were already occupied.
Women and men chatted and laughed as they drank from mugs while a lanky man played a mandolin in the corner.
The mandolin player suddenly changed songs, and cheers erupted across the tavern, the tune apparently a crowd favorite.
Several people got up from their seats, their feet smacking against the wood at a lively beat as they danced closer to the mandolinist.
Unable to help herself, Myra reached for the threads of the patrons, latching onto their joy as if it would be the last time she would come across it. Instantly, her smile grew wider and her steps lighter.
"Apologies, my lady," a man said when he bumped into Myra. "I didn’t see ya there."
"Perhaps you should look where you’re going," Laurince said gruffly behind Myra.
"It’s quite all right," Myra said, smiling meekly and silently apologizing for her companion’s rude behavior. The sooner they sat, the quicker they could eat and go to sleep, both of which were much needed if the captain’s attitude was any indication.
The stranger looked down at her and tipped his hat. He headed toward a table across the room where a small group was laughing.
Myra felt the light press of a hand on the small of her back. As Laurince leaned down, his breath kissed the side of her neck. She stiffened.
"Over there," he said over the music, his deep voice sending a ripple of goosebumps over her skin, "to the right."
In the corner, a table with four chairs sat against the back wall. Myra made her way toward it. Although, her steps were more rigid than before as her focus kept returning to the warmth on her back.
When they reached the table, Laurince pulled out a chair with his free hand, and the legs scratched the rickety floorboards.
He gestured to it, and Myra sat, her back suddenly cold once he removed his hand.
Laurince plopped down in the seat across from her.
Tossing his arm across the back of his chair, he scanned the crowd.
"You should be more careful," he said after a moment without looking at her.
"Pardon?" Myra asked. What did he expect? Someone to charge at them in the middle of the tavern? How barbaric did he think people were?
He turned toward her. "You nearly got knocked over. What if the man had pulled a knife on you? What would you have done? Smiled and thanked him?"
Myra’s mouth fell open. "A knife? We’re in a public place. You have to be joking."
His expression remained flat.
Apparently, not.
"I never joke about safety," he said.
"Oh? And what about our friend over there, hmm?" Myra asked, avoiding saying the king’s name in case someone nearby heard her. She may have been clumsy, but she wasn’t ignorant. "Shouldn’t you be focusing on his safety?"
"I am," Laurince stated, matter-of-factly.
Myra leaned back in her chair. "Really? How? You’re on the other side of the room."
"I can see him just fine from here," he said, flicking his hand dismissively. "And he’s armed. You’re not, despite my efforts to change that."
Shaking her head in disbelief, she looked over her shoulder.
Rian still stood at the bar, chatting with the innkeeper. The woman was now leaning her elbows on the bar, mimicking Rian’s position. Rian twirled one of her ink-dipped curls around his finger, and Myra could faintly make out a blush coloring the innkeeper’s cheeks.
"What if she pulls out a knife on him?" Myra asked.
"Honestly, if she does, good for her. That’ll mean she hasn’t fallen for his sad-boy eyes."
Myra snorted. "His what?"
"Oh, come on," Laurince said, rolling his eyes. "You’ve seen them."
"I don’t think I have."
Laurince sighed and leaned one arm against the table’s edge. Myra’s attention caught on his bicep for a second before he waved his hand in a circular motion in front of his face. "You know, he has that face—that look-how-sad-I-am-won’t-you-fix-me look. Everyone falls for it."
Affronted, Myra sat up straighter. "Not me."
Laurince arched a brow. "If you say so, Haze."
Warmth spread to her cheeks, and of course Laurince quickly noticed. He slapped his hand on the table. "See? I knew it!"
She could feel the red hue deepen, but she kept her lips sealed. Because if she denied it, he would have known that the blush wasn’t a result of Rian’s supposed "sad-boy eyes" but the nickname the captain used so freely with her. And she really did not want to admit that.
"Anyway, I think you’ve strayed from the point," Laurince said, leaning back in his chair so the front legs lifted off the ground.
"People will take advantage of your kindness.
You need to be careful." The chair legs smacked the floorboards.
With one last cursory glance her way, he faced the crowd again, his posture becoming rigid once more.
Myra tapped her fingers on the side of her chair as she observed him. "You know, he said you were more fun at taverns, yet so far all I’ve seen you do is get your feathers ruffled by a drunk stranger and pout."
"I am not pouting," he said, tucking his hands beneath his arms.
Cocking a brow, Myra hummed.
Laurince scoffed and unfolded his arms.
"I think you’re just jealous," she said with a smirk.
"Jealous?" Laurince asked, eyes widening. "What do I have to be jealous about?"
"He’s flirting with some stranger while you’re stuck over here babysitting me."
His lips parted, but he shook his head as if deciding against his original response. "Let the man flirt. After his engagement went up in flames, he deserves some kind of romance, even if it’s fleeting." He flicked his hand, but she could taste the bitterness on his tongue.
Myra pursed her lips.
"Unless," Laurince began, leaning forward with a knowing smirk, "you wish he was flirting with you instead?"
"Me?" If anything, Myra was jealous of how carefree Rian was, how simple and nonchalant the two were flirting with one another. Myra only wished she had an ounce of the innkeeper’s confidence. Of course, she admitted none of that and instead said, "I’m nothing but a handmaiden."
"You were a handmaiden," he corrected.
Myra shifted uncomfortably. She was still getting used to that. Beyond traveling with Laurince and Rian, she still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. It was hard to think about her future when a war was upon them.
As if sensing her tension, Laurince said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I’ve honestly found that I prefer handmaidens over the ladies in the court." He wrinkled his nose. "They’re a little too stuffy for my liking."
Myra’s stomach twisted at the captain’s words. But before she could stew in it for too long, Laurince added, "Plus, sorry to disappoint, but I only dance on tables when I’ve had one too many pints of ale."
A pitcher slammed onto the table. Myra and Laurince both jumped back as liquid sloshed over the rim and spilled onto the table.
"Would spiced mead do the trick?" Rian asked with a wide grin and a red smudge on his cheek.