Page 9 of Of Nightmares & Fire
“Because it’s just another job, Ky. Nothing about this is any different than any others. It’swherewe are that has you all bent out of shape. It’s where we’re headed andwhowe're going to be face-to-face with. Why don’t you just admit that you’re afraid that you won’t be able to do it?” He says with his lip curled, yet there is no anger coming from him. His eyes are pleading and brows dropped in concern, but no anger. No, that’s all mine.
I’m angry with myself, and I’m fucking pissed off that he’s right. The storm has served to only allow me to simmer with my hatred. No amount of preparation would be enough for me to walk into that court and look King Connard Casimir in the eye and pretend to want anything to do with his bitch daughter… and now, just when I thought I was ready, the storm has let the vile emotion pool in my gut and fester like a wound.
“Just another job or not, you need to pay attention to it. You need to already be in character, Mavros. You shouldn’t be day drinking, flirting, and fucking your way up to the palace steps.”
“And what about you, Kyros? That’s not water I smell on your breath. And as for flirting and fucking… that’s just me, brother; it won’t stop when we get to the palace. I’ll have that princess folded inhalf after the first night. Maybe we can share? Split roast her over daddy dearest, while he chokes on his own blood.” He smiles wickedly.
“You’re sick, you know that?” I respond as I let him go. Standing upright, I tug my tunic on.
“Look, if it makes you feel any better, as soon as the rain lets up, it’s back to business. I will get my shit together, and we will head to the palace with no more stops. No more fucking around.” He pats me on the chest, and I glare at him. “Until then, though, I plan to have a little fun in our downtime, so fuck off and stay out of my way.” He turns on his heel and swaggers back through the door I came.
I grind my teeth and close my eyes, taking several deep breaths to gather myself before I, too, head back into the tavern. With nowhere else to go, I step back into the chaos that it keeps while we wait out the remainder of the storm.
Chapter eight
Astraea
Thestormydaylightfiltersthrough the cracks in the shuttered window, casting the hallway in a shadowed blue-gray hue as I follow the woman, who apparently came tofetchme. The chill in the air still lingers from the night, where the sun remains hidden behind thick blankets of rain clouds. The bitter chill always sticks around during the desert rains in Eathian.
Though it’s morning, by the looks of the tavern, you would never know it. The wooden shutters are pulled tightly closed to keep out the now raging storm. As I descend the stairs, I’m hit with a wall of heat and a plethora of scents. The fire in the center hearth roars alongside the people who are already drinking and rowdy as ever. The air is rancid with the smell of sweat, sizzlingmeat, and stale ale. I guess there really isn’t much else to do while stuck waiting out a monsoon.
My attention is pulled immediately to the far corner of the tavern. A ring of bodies creates a shadow around a halo of light; all the tables and chairs have been moved to form the makeshift fighting circle. It’s similar to what I have seen the guards do in the courtyard at the palace—only in much tighter quarters. The men all along the edges are cheering, laughing, and throwing coins at the two shirtless figures in the center.
Both men are covered in dark swirls and swatches of ink. The patterns are so similar but uniquely their own. Their skin gleams in the low light like freshly oiled armor as they round on each other. I recognize them both as the men I have had thepleasureof encountering each twice now since running from the palace.
I didn’t realize I had stopped. Entranced by their fluid-like movements and the sweat rolling lines down their skin, until the woman who came to fetch me snaps her fingers in front of my nose.
“They are pretty, but pick your jaw up, would you? I’m getting secondhand embarrassment.” I blink out of the trance, and she shakes her head with a grimace as she leads me the rest of the way down the narrow stairs. Keeping an eye on me every few steps, her watchful stare causes my insides to swim, and I chew my lip nervously. She claps on the surface of the bar with three loud thumps and a high-pitched whistle, earning an annoyed eye roll from the barmaid. The same stout woman with red hair from last night.
“Keep your whistles for the dogs, or I’ll feed your tongue to them!” She calls out as she shakes her head, throwing a dish towel over her shoulder. She serves two tankards to a couple of men whose eyes linger on me and the woman at my side.
“The fuck are you two looking at?” My grumpy new friend barks out, and they quickly avert their gaze into their drinks. “All men are inept at reading a woman.” She shakes her head before snapping and pointing at the stool next to her. This snapping at me likeI’ma dog is going to get oldveryfast. Narrowing my eyes on her, then at the stool, I think about how I want to react. I’ve never been talked to in this manner. No one would dare risk the king hearing of such disrespect. To do so would be knotting your own noose for the gallows. Taking a calming breath, I sit as she so politely requested with my lips sealed.
“What’s your story?” The woman asks as she shifts on her stool while she has me pinned with her eyes. She fiddles with a small knife she pulled from the strap on her chest. The blade is a dark metal, not unlike any other knife, but as she swirls it, I notice the engravings on each side and how the flickering light from the torches catches the blade’s serrated edge menacingly. I shift in my seat. Swallowing, I look away from her and back to where the men are sparring.
“I don’t have a story.” I lie. Almost too easily. I curse internally at the quick response, but I don’t think she heard me anyway. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but then she leans in close to catch my eye, the tip of her knife pointed in my direction.
“Then you better get one.” She sheaths the blade back at her breast strap and pats it once for effect. “If you plan on traveling and surviving the kingdom, you need to know your story, and it’s best if everyone else knows the story you want told.” Something about the way she says it—it’s not necessarily a threat, but the caveat is implicated pretty clearly. The barmaid makes her way over to us as the woman makes an order for drinks. The hair on my arms stands on end as I feel a stare burrowing into me from across the room.
I try to feign looking around at all the obnoxious patrons, but I can’t look away when my gaze clashes with a man who now sits around the corner at the bar facing me. He swipes the dark tunic in his hand across his brow to wipe away the gathering sweat, and it’s only a brief reprieve from his heavy stare and the dark shadows that linger within it.
“What did you do to piss off Kyros?” My attention snaps to the blonde at my side.
“I—What?”
“He’s broody on the best of days, but whatever happened this morning has him wound up like a cobra, ready to strike.” Her chin juts out toward the other side of the bar, and heat creeps up my neck as my gaze hunts for the man again, but when I look back to the spot he occupied, he’s gone. The men who were casting bets on the fight are either sulking as they slap coins and notes into their grinning counterparts’ hands or laughing loudly, howling about who will win the next one.
“Maybe he doesn’t like the ale much here either.” She hitches her pierced eyebrow at my response and looks at me, waiting for me toelaborate, but I am saved from reliving that horror as the barmaid comes over, setting down two tin tumblers. The blonde woman slips a note across the bar, and the woman on the other side huffs with a nod before she turns to walk away.
“Wait!” I call out a little too loudly, immediately curling in on myself. The barmaid lifts a deep red brow at my call as she comes back to where we sit. “Sorry, I was just wondering if there was another room? One I don’t have to share?” I look around nervously, leaning forward a hair closer. “I could pay double.” I whisper, hoping no one else hears that bit of information.
“Even if you could paytriple,I couldn’t room you alone, lady. Do you not see this place? It’s crawling with souls as stuck as you are. I suggest you either learn to get along or find someone else willing to switch you rooms. Either way, you will have someone bunking with you.” I swallow her words down with the bile rising and nod before she dismisses me with a huff.
“Thank you,” I rush out to her before she walks away, then lift the rim to my lips and tip it back—thank the divine it’s not that awful ale.The whiskey burns more than any I have ever had. I guess castle guards have better choices than those this far out in Eathian. My eyes are screwed shut from another sip of the alcohol, as an arm rests across my shoulders and hot breath puffs out on my cheek. I stiffen at the public intimate touch.
“Careful, Princess. That there—will put you on your back if you’re not…” His eyes flick over to the blonde. “Thanks for helping out my new friend, Zinny.” He winks, and the blonde rolls her eyes.
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” She grumbles, throwing her head back. She drinks down the rest of what is in the tin before slamming it down on the counter. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive being cooped up with all of you. Traveling here was hard enough.” Her stool protests loudly as she stands, shaking her head. She storms off and disappears in the now much more crowded tavern, now that more people are waking and coming down for food and to escape the confines of their rooms.
