Page 103 of Scourged

“‘The boy?’” Sebastian repeated, turning to Ciana with a shit-eating grin. “Is that what I am now?”

“Beva,” Ciana squeaked, swallowing past her embarrassment. “This is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Beva, the owner of The Silver Moon.” She refused to look at him but could feel his grin widen.

“Pleasure to meet you, Beva,” Sebastian said warmly, extending his hand to the barkeep. Beva gripped it, shaking firmly, the way only a businesswoman who’d spent her whole life catering to soldiers would know how.

“Seems much busier than last time, Beva! Did we miss an invite to something?” Ciana asked, desperate to change the subject.

Beva grinned. “Shift change, dearie. Just have to learn when the guards rotate their watches, that’s all.”

Ciana relaxed slightly into her stool. “I wasn’t sure you would remember me.”

“Oh, I never forget a face, girl. Especially one belonging to Her Majesty’s court.” She tossed Ciana a wink. “Let me get you two those ales.” She left them, pausing along the way as she was flagged down by a few other patrons.

It took Ciana a few moments before she felt the warmth of Sebastian’s gaze. She tilted her head to find him studying her intently.

“She knows who you are.” His words were light, but the question in them was clear.

Ciana glanced at her hands resting on the bar. “A few weeks ago, when …” She took a deep breath. “When Delaynie and I went with Kiira and Rylla into the city to look for signs of Mariah, we got frustrated with how the residents were refusing to talk to us. Kiira and Rylla suggested they go off on their own, and Del and I … well, we decided we needed a drink.”

Ciana braced herself for Sebastian’s familiar anger that always sparked when her brazen trip to the city was mentioned.This time, however, he was silent, watching her with a slight furrow to his brow.

“And is that when you told her who you were?”

Ciana snorted, relief rushing through her like a broken dam. “Gods, no. She just … guessed. Said she saw my palace horse, and since not many were allowed to freely come and go from the palace, she put the two together. And,” Ciana said with a smile, “she said she knew Mariah’sparents.”

“That I did, my dear,” chimed that familiar feminine voice. Beva set two full pints of amber ale on the bar top, gray eyes sparkling. “I have known Wex and Lisabel for many years, ever since they were barely older than teenagers. I’m glad to hear our young queen has returned safe.”

Ciana stiffened. Mariah’s disappearance and return were no secret—it couldn’t be—but Sebastian was more protective of that information than any of them.

But, to her surprise, Sebastian only tipped his head graciously. “We are glad as well, Beva. I’ll be sure to give Mariah your kind words,” he said.

Beva nodded, glancing one more time at Ciana, before walking away to see to the other patrons.

Chest squeezing at Sebastian’s calmness, Ciana leaned forward and took a deep, long drink from her ale. It was crisp and cold, the rich flavors of malt and barley and honey exploding across her tongue. She groaned slightly before licking her lips and setting down the mug, now close to half-empty.

Sebastian was acting like how he’d beenbefore. Before Mariah was taken. Before he blamed himself. And for just a moment, Ciana forced her worries from her mind.

When she turned to Sebastian, he was smiling, but there was the touch of a shadow across his handsome features.

She furrowed her brow. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” He sipped his ale, then stared down at the mug. “Gods, that’s good.”

Ciana chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

He set down his glass. “Actually,” he began, running a finger down the side of the glass. She tracked his movement, swallowing heavily. He turned to face her.

“I wanted to apologize to you. For real, this time.”

She flushed again and looked away. “You already apologized.”

“Not in the way I wanted to. I—I had no right to say the things I said or to keep you locked up in the palace. I never should have dismissed you like that. I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Ciana refused to look at him. Instead, she slid her fingers along the cold rim of her glass, the beads of moisture coating her hands. “You just … you have no idea howtrappedI felt. I was scared and vulnerable, and instead of letting me help and do something, you locked me up behind those pretty doors. Just like …” She sniffed, quickly wiping a hand across her cheek and glaring at her glass. “Just liketheyused to do.”

Even though the tavern was boisterously loud, the silence between them stretched thick and heavy. Ciana’s emotions—all that pain and trauma and terror she’d grown up knowing as her companion—exploded wildly through her chest, and she grasped desperately for control to keep the tears from spilling down her face. She took another sip from her ale, and just as she placed it back on the bar, a large hand wrapped around her own.

“Ciana.”

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