Page 136 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

“Look! Look!” they cried, their jovial faces filled with awe.

“Careful,” one mother said, holding her toddler’s chubby arm.

“It’s alright,” Sumac said. “They’re really just big puppies.” She whistled, and one of the giant wolves lay down in the middle of the street so the children could pet him. His fluffy tail wagged relentlessly as the little ones patted his soft fur and kissed his wet nose.

Once the children had their fill of the beasts, Sumac let the wolves run free for the night in the nearby woods. Despite being domesticated, the canines still loved moonlit hunts.

“Let’s get a pint and relax,” Sumac said, dismissing the other riders to do as they pleased for the evening.

“I’m starving,” Tharan said, trying to hide his growing concern for Aelia. Perhaps a full belly would help.

The Hoppy Toadstool was a lively, cozy place with plush armchairs, roaring fires, and a string band. The walls were lined with intricate wallpaper depicting forest creatures.

The trio sat at the old oak bar, where a halfling with curly brown hair and hazel eyes greeted them warmly.

“Lord Greenblade,” he said with a smile that lit his entire face. “To what do we owe the honor of such a distinguished guest? Surely, you’d rather stay in the Brewer’s Palace.”

Tharan’s cheeks reddened, and he waved the barkeep off.

“No, no, I am a man of the people. The Hoppy Toadstool is just fine for me.”

“If you say so, sir.” He shrugged his little shoulders. “What’ll it be?”

“I’d quite like a hot cider with rum if you have it,” Tharan replied.

“Course, my Lord, anything for you. And for your companions?”

“Two blonde ales, please,” Hopper spoke for both himself and Sumac.

The barkeep nodded, pouring the pints before getting the hot cider for Tharan.

“It’s on the house, my Lord. The brewmaster would never forgive me if I charged you.”

Tharan went to object but knew it was pointless. Instead, he smiled and raised his mug to the halfling. “Thank you.”

“What a day,” Hopper said, sipping his ale.

“It’s been over a month since we left the Woodland Realm. It’ll be Ostara before we know it.” Tharan took a long drink of his cider, letting the hot beverage warm his cold bones.

“Can’t come soon enough. I’m tired of winter,” Sumac added.

“To making it out alive.” Tharan held up his mug, and the three cheered. He wanted to put on a good face for his friends. They didn’t need to be burdened with his growing suspicions that Aelia was in danger. They’d nearly escaped death earlier. It wasn’t right to add to their load. As king, it was his job to lighten it.

They drank and ate until late into the night, but despite their celebration, Tharan still couldn’t shake the feeling of trepidation lingering over him. Maybe he was just tired. When the candles burned low, and most of the other patrons had gone home for the night, the three friends went to their rooms.

Tharan sank into the squeaky bed. He didn’t care that it was made for someone half his size. He was grateful for a soft place to land for the night. His head felt light from the spiced cider,and he wished Aelia was beside him. He twisted the whisper stone in his ear and waited for her voice at the other end.

Nothing.

He tried it again.

Still nothing.

A chill crept down his spine, and he swallowed the bile rising in his throat.Something happened to Aelia.

They had to act fast if they were going to save her. He should have left the moment she didn’t answer the whisper stone. He should have trusted his gut. Now she was in danger, and he was ten steps behind.

He flung the blankets off his bed and crept down the hall to Hopper’s room.

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