Page 42 of Of Curses and Beauty

“I’ve booked you a room for this evening at the inn in town,” she said.

“I don’t need your pity–”

“Then consider it reparations for the hurt I’ve caused you.”

They stopped and he faced her, taken aback by how young and vulnerable she appeared in the moonlight. Aside from her brief stint as a man, Daric had only seen her in this form, the one he’d come to know as the maiden since the curse had been broken. It was possible the other incarnation had come from the being that possessed her. There would be no tears shed by him if he never saw that old crone again though.

He rolled his eyes but nodded in begrudging acquiescence. “Fine. Lead on.”

The so-called inn turned out to be little more than an alehouse with a spare room on the second floor, but Daric was grateful for the warm place to rest. His eyelids had grown heavy, his heart even heavier as they trekked across the barren fields. Though he wanted nothing more than to fall into bed, the scent of roasted meat and sour ale sent his stomach rumbling immediately upon entering the inn. Eudora gave him a knowing look as though she’d somehow heard his hunger over the roaring of the busy tavern.

“Let me buy you dinner.” He opened his mouth to refuse, but she cut him off before he had the chance. “It is the least I can do. Please do not starve for pride’s sake.”

“At least join me, then. I don’t think I’m in the right headspace to dine alone right now.” He wasn’t ashamed to admit he needed a friend. Though it was strange for Eudora to fill that role, he had no one else.

She must have seen something in his expression, or maybe she felt the absence of companionship just as sharply, but they found a table along the wall and signaled the barkeep over to take their order.

Daric finally regained feeling in his fingers as two sweating tankards of ale were placed before them. His feet were another issue entirely in his soaking wet boots and he wished they’d gotten a seat closer to the fire. Glancing around for another table, his eyes widened at the crowd he’d somehow ignored till then. He’d known the tavern was loud, but his mind had disconnected from what was happening around him, solely focused on the acquisition of food and warmth.

Every other table in the inn was occupied. People even lingered between tables, waiting for a seat to open up.

All at once, the room became too small and too warm. Bodies pressed in on them from three sides, trapping him in place against the wall and cutting off his air. Beneath the table, his leg bounced in an effort to dispel the nervous energy swelling inside him. Sweat beaded at his temples as his heart rate rose and he became increasingly aware of the way the collar of his shirt rubbed his neck.

Daric closed his eyes and tipped his head against the cool stone wall, fighting to take deep breaths to counter the rising panic.

Too many people.

Too many people.

Too many—

Cool, steady hands brushed his, and delicate tendrils of ice swept over him, calming rather than chilling.

“Big breath in, Daric.”

Eudora’s voice drowned out the clamor around him. He inhaled deeply, the scent of pine and ozone replacing the stale odor of the inn as she worked her magic.

“And exhale.”

Air escaped him in a near-silentwhoosh. She repeated the directions several times in her hypnotic voice before he felt the tension in his body begin to ease. He kept his eyes closed, refusing to let his vision sabotage his slight progress. Despite Eudora’s efforts, his anxiety still lingered, though it had waned significantly with her intervention. He reached blindly for one of her hands, clasping it and giving a gentle squeeze that he hoped conveyed his thanks.

She continued murmuring encouragement and sending cooling magic towards him until his focus was seized by a loud, boisterous laugh from his left.

Before he could think better of it, he opened his eyes and located the source in the crowd. He had no difficulty picking out the offender as his voice continued to carry over the din.

The man stood at a table near the center of the room, one leg propped up on the chair of a companion that he jovially slapped on the back. He seemed well-built, lean, but muscular and taller than most in the room, Daric excluded. Dark hair was slicked back from a face that may as well have been chiseled from stone for all its lack of imperfections. Though his clothing spoke of wealth, his mannerisms suggested he was richer in coin than morality. Even as Daric watched, the man ostentatiously pinched the backside of a passing woman, while bragging of his upcoming nuptials.

It made Daric sick that someone like that would enter into the sanctity of marriage so frivolously.

Eudora gasped when she finally found the object of Daric’s focus. The sound drew Daric’s gaze from the spectacle for only a moment, but it was long enough to see the recognition flicker over her face. Though she tamped it down quickly, Daric latched onto the knowledge that somehow she knew this man.

He considered where they were, in Alaine’s hometown, and pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

“Thatis Alaine’s future husband?” he growled.

Eudora’s grip on his hand tightened as his teeth ground together. It took everything in him to keep from jumping out of his seat and confronting the man. If he’d had the security of employment and a place to stay, Daric would be more willing to risk the conflict. As it was, judging by the reactions from the people around him, Alaine’s betrothed appeared to be well-regarded among the townsfolk—the men, at least. Daric would need to stay in their favor for as long as he planned to remain.

“Lord Henrik Baxter,” muttered Eudora with disdain. “His father owns nearly half the town, but the son acts like he owns it all, the people included. And yes, heisAlaine’s future husband. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m not sure she could do worse. I suppose she only needs him for the one thing he’s good for.”

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