Page 5 of Of Nightmares & Fire
“I think you are serious enough for the both of us.” He winks, and I shake my head with a scoff and push off the wall. “Where’s Zinya? Are you ready to head to the castle yet?” He pats my chest as he walks past me, and I catch his wrist, stopping him in his path.
“I’m serious, Mavros. You can’t treat this like a joke. The king will see through your comedy. He is not one to entertain jesters. Look up, brother; those poles are not just for looks. The hooks are meant for men to hang like flags around this city. He kills and hangs his trophies for all to see.” I seethe, looking up at the extension on the clay building, prepped and ready to hang a man. A punishment and a warning.
“You know… Since I am to be the serious one, maybe you can do us all a favor and get laid. Maybe you wouldn’t be so—” Mavros stops, looking me up and down, and I level him with a glare.
“I don’t need to get laid. I need to get the job done.” I growl, looking out at the market. Many of the carts are moving now. Eyes keep shooting up at the sky, and sure enough, the clouds I noticed earlier are churning. The tell-tale sign that a storm is coming. Just what we don’t have time for.
“What’s the difference?” Mavros asks, and I look at him baffled.
“What?” I curl my lipin annoyance.
“You said you needed to get the job done. What’s the difference between that and getting laid?” He laughs, and I take a calming breath. I swear we twins couldn’t be more different.
“I think since I was born first, you lacked oxygen for too long. Your brain suffered before you even took your first breath.” Zinya walks up just as Mavros’ jaw falls slack, but she heard what I said. Her head falls back in a gut-deep laugh at Mav’s expense. I can’t help but smile a little too. “Come on. Looks like our littlequick stophas cost us. We need shelter from the coming monsoon. We won’t make it to the palace before the storm.” My eyes lift just as the first of the thunder rolls, and I push my way through both of them and head to the first tavern I see.
Mavros starts drinking as soon as we step up to the bar. I guess if he needs to get something out, now is the time to do it. We will be stuck here for at least a couple of days while this storm rolls over.
“Sorry, big guy, we can’t give single rooms; you either bunk up or sleep at the bar for all I care. There are too many people that are going to need a place to lay their heads in this. Those willing to pay.” The red-headed bar maiden is brash and confident; I’ll give her that. Most men wouldn’t even talk to me like that, yet she just says it matter-of-factly, with just a look of annoyance. It makes me like her right away, so I give her a smirk and step in close. She lifts her chin to show me that she has no fear. The man she is trying to bunk with me, though… he has plenty. He stammers about making some kind of excuse about how he actually would rather spend his coin on ale and would just sleep in a booth if he needed it.
“Well, look at that. My room just became a single.”
“You’ll pay triple.” She growls, and I give her my best Mavros wink. Judging by the angry glower she pins me with, it was lacking his undeniable charm, so I shrug. Tripling the cost for a night of peace is fine by me. I pay the haggler and order a whiskey before finding a table in the corner, far from my brother and the rowdy crowd he entertains. We did bring soldiers with us, but most of them steer clear of The Hawk—Harbinger of Death. My reputation as the silent killer doesn’t scream drinking buddy.
The rain is really pelting the clay roof now, and as the storm gets louder, so do the tavern’s patrons. The only man who might take his job as seriously as me is Viltarin, and even he is smiling while holding a pitcher of ale. I’m about to get a refill of whiskey and take it to my room when the door to the tavern opens, letting the sounds of the storm pull my attention to the smaller hooded figure that walked in. I recognize her immediately. The same woman from the market. The same woman my brother was shot down by, and the same one who is oddly alluring to me…
I sink back into the booth a little longer as I watch her. Her cloak is soaking wet, leaving a path of water trailing behind her as she makes her way to the bar. The way she looks around and keeps her hood up tells me that she has something to hide and causes me to be that much more interested in what she is doing.
When I see her slide a coin across the bar, I notice the barmaid give her the same bullshit about having to bunk up. I can’t help but want to get closer. The intrigue of what is pulling me to her is too strong to ignore. I am about to stand beside her and say hello when she looks around. I watch people for a living. Gaininformation and kill. I’m an assassin and a spy, and everything about this woman screams mystery, and it’s one I can’t help but be drawn toward solving.
I can only see her lips and chin from where I stand, the firelight around the tavern casting shadows across her face with the way her hood is drawn. She pulls her pink bottom lip between her teeth, and I catch myself mocking the motion. Distracted by this, I don’t realize that she was moving before it’s too late. She slams face first into my chest as I walk up behind her.
“Shit,” the curse coming from her catches me by surprise again, and I can’t help the smile that tugs my lips up at the corners.
“Very becoming language for a lady,princess.” She takes a hesitant step back, her mouth pulled into a frown. My hand twitches; the sudden urge to reach for her, tell her I’m not going to harm her, screams at me, but all I do is stand here. I stare like she is a god’s divine mythical creature.
“Miss?” The barmaid,damn this woman, interrupts my personal turmoil, and the cloaked woman looks up at me. Never has a woman of few words ever caused me to become this perplexed. Even my magick stills within my veins. Almost as if it were telling me to pay attention. Think about your next action.
“Did you want me to show you to your room?” The wench cuts through my thoughts again.
“Yes,” the strange woman coughs, sidestepping around me. Her shoulder brushes just above my elbow as she does. “Please excuse me.” She apologizes, but I say nothing as she rushes up the stairs like someone is chasing her. When she reaches the top, her headturns back to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes, even through the shadowed tavern, shine the brightest blue. They glow like the flowers of scorpion grass that grows back in Diemos, in the shaded areas of the thick forests. When the sun hits them just right, they have an ethereal sort of beauty. I’ve never met anyone with eyes like hers. As soon as I think about it, I also have to remind myself—those flowers are deadly. This woman could be too. I don’t know anything about her. She could be a siren for all I know, with the way I feel drawn to her.
Mavros comes clapping me on the back, and I cough as he knocks the air from my lungs and pulls my attention from her. When I chance a look back, she's gone.
“What’s the matter with you? Did you get into the spicy grass again? Looking a little jumpy.” He laughs, and I punch him in the stomach, returning the favor of losing my air a moment ago. He laughs harder, curled in on himself.
“Don’t fuck with me, asshole.” I growl as I head to the bar. Needing that second whiskey more now than ever.
“Noted.” He wheezes, Zinya laughing with him now, but I can’t think of anything, even as I look into the liquid gold in my cup. All I see is the blue flower in the scorpion grass with a random ray of sunshine finding its petals and lighting it up like magick from within.
Chapter five
Astraea
Mydressandcloakcling to me uncomfortably as I stand facing the empty room. I pull in a long breath and let it out with a heavy sigh, and as I peel off the cloak, I shiver. The drop in temperature as the night settles over the desert and the rain has worked a chill into my bones. Hanging my cloak on the hook behind the door, I head to the basin that is set up in the corner of the room. I ease out of the heavy, waterlogged material and my undergarments and wrap myself in the threadbare towel provided by the inn.
Great, I get to sleep naked tonight.
I lay my clothes over the back of the chaise, thankful that the tavern at least keeps fires going in their rooms in preparation for guests. Hopefully, my clothes are dry by morning. The lumpy bedslumps when I sink into it, and my brows pinch when I pull the scratchy linens up to my chin and begin thinking—what do I do now?
