Page 102 of Bound By Darkness

“But you’re close enough to run errands for her without compensation?”

Thick lulls of music caressed my ears as the tavern band began anew. A chorus of violins and cellos echoed against the wooden walls, chiming against the conversation.

Naexi stumbled, her fingers gripping onto my loose shirt. Her breath reeked of citrusy yeast enough to churn the stew I’d eaten earlier. “You know nothing.”

Her fingers uncurled from the fabric as she readjusted her top. Her mouth parted, the ale telling secrets I knew she would regret in the morning. “Iyanna recruited me to keep Kaydn in place.” She laughed to herself.

“You know he’s a royal High Fae prince pretending to be a commoner, right? Hells, he even calls himself an assassin when hegavehimself that title. He never earned it and honestly”—her eyes flicked to mine—“he’s terrible at it. Sure, he’s valuable with a sword in his hands, but without Iyanna’s help, that caster would still be in prison without her orchestrating the entire thing,” she muttered. “Even worse his mother was a mere Noble Fae not born into one of the Four Houses. She was blessed with extraordinary beauty, that’s it.”

The violin squeaked as the inexperienced musician broke a string, sending a crescendo of harrowing notes echoing in the tavern.

“Then she sends me with you, a mere slave from Galar.” Her head lulled to the side. “The gods must be against me,” she cried.

A few patrons glanced at Naexi, their eyes narrowing at her spoken words. Words she expressed loudly over the dying music.

The musician turned bright red as a patron tossed ale onto the stage, coating him in yellow liquid. The musician tossed his violin to the stage before a fury of fists punched the man who had thrown his beverage onto him. Others soon joined in on the fray.

Laughing, I tossed an arm around her, lifting her from the wooden bench. “Like you know any High Fae princes,” I said above the crowd.

A few onlookers observed Naexi, their snickers and sneers a sigh of relief. They had to equate her words to drunken vomit as they turned their heads to the fight—a blessing in disguise.

“Come on. Let’s go to the inn,” I said, pulling her gently against me as we headed for the tavern door.

Naexi shoved her shoulder into my soft flesh, a groan escaping my lips. Even intoxicated, her hits landed. “I have a date.”

“You have a date with the bathroom,” I answered, keeping her head low as we exited into the crisp air.

Crinkling my nose, I hauled Naexi against me. The lights of the tavern illuminated our backs as we stepped further and further away from the chaos.

The inn rested a few stones away, but her constant shoving made it seem hundreds of stones away. Stepping over a pile of mud, I imagined her face coated in the substance.

Another flail of her arm struck my stomach as I huffed,holding her tighter against me as we kept a hasty pace. “Stop fighting. You nearly exposed everything.”

“No rebels were there.” Her face turned a shade green as I walked faster, the inn in sight. The streets were mostly empty, allowing for easy passage from one place to another.

Soon, rain would be upon the town. Thick clouds of gray covered the sky’s expanse, drowning the starlight’s flickers. It constantly rained in Gendry due to the wet and humid climate.

My nose wrinkled, and the smell of wet musk and yeast intensified as Naexi emptied the contents of her stomach onto the ground.

And onto my boots.

Nausea curled around my nose as I flung a hand over it to prevent the stench from penetrating further. Naexi retched again, the sound jarring in my ears. She wiped away the excess liquid from her lips with her hand. “The bathroom sounds good now.”

Naexi sprawled on the faded comforter, her forearm covering her eyes. Her skin’s slight green tint had faded to a dull yellow at least.

The room reeked of citrus, remnants remaining in the bathroom. The rest of the room was plain, with two twin beds resting against the wall and a bathroom attached with a singular toilet and sink. It was a suitable room fit for two traveling rebels or assassins. I wasn’t sure what to call us… call me either.

“Stop groaning,” I muttered as I rolled under the thin material they considered a comforter. The pillow ached against my head, the material as hard as the stone flooring ofmy prison cell. It provided little comfort to my already growing headache.

“You’re too loud,” she mumbled.

I pressed my face deeper into the pillow, but the sounds of her groaning flooded my ears. Along with sporadic thuds behind the wall, increasing in tempo?—

“Should have been me.”

I huffed, tossing the quilt back from my legs. “You would have vomited all over her if I’d let you go. Not to mention announcing to the whole tavern you’re working with a prince.”

Naexi grew silent. Her blonde hair stuck to her sickly face, beads of sweat dripping from her temples.

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