Page 65 of Silverbow
Enya pushed the door open, her head swiveling. She knew this hall. She had a room in this hall. She whirled around, counting the doors, realizing the gods damned man had taken the bloody room right next to hers.
Oryn
Oryn sat staring at the door that swung shut behind Enya bloody Ryerson. He ought to let her run off on her own. She clearly didn’t want his help. She had wanted to stab him. But at the mere thought of abandoning her to her fate, a sudden gale ripped through the open window as Mosphaera howled her objection.
seventeen
Enya
Asoft knock roused Enya before dawn. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she opened the door just a crack to peer into the inn’s hallway. Oryn’s broad form was silhouetted by the faint moonlight that streamed in from a window, glinting off his silver hair.
“You just open the door for anyone?” He growled.
Enya huffed. “I figured the gargoyle next door would take care of anyone else.”
He’d had dinner sent to her room the night before and trailed her too and from the bathing chamber as if danger lurked in the privy. For a moment, she thought he might try to follow her inside, but he folded his arms and leaned against the wall, glowering at anyone who walked by as he waited for her to emerge. If that was what he intended to do all the way to Drozia, it was best he’d taken her belt knife.
He pushed into her room, making her leap back or be run over, and shut the door behind him with a soft thud.
“Some people might consider it rude to burst in on a lady,” she hissed.
He slid a breakfast tray onto the table. “If I meet a lady, I’ll be sure to keep thatin mind. Eat.”
Enya gaped at him, unable to string a sentence together in her outrage. Acutely aware that she was bare beneath the long tails of her shirt, she grabbed the blanket from the narrow bed and wrapped it around herself like a cloak as pink flooded her cheeks. Oryn didn’t seem to notice.
“I presume your horse is the ill tempered mare that bites?”
Enya sniffed, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.Good girl.“Arawelo doesn’t put up with manhandling either.”
Oryn grunted and set a jar of dark powder beside the tray.
“What’s this?”
“Dye. Your hair might as well be a banner.”
She should have thought to do something about her hair, and that he had irked her.
“Easier if it was shorter.”
“Absolutely not!” She snapped. Her hands came up to cover the length of her braid as the demi-elf produced a set of shears from inside his cloak.
He sighed and jerked his chin toward the washbasin. “Dampen your hair and comb it through.”
“Fine.”
“The others are waiting.”
“Then get out,” she gritted.
With a shake of his silver head, he retreated through the doorway. She listened to his boots fade down the hall, surprised he wasn’t lording over her door. When she emerged in the stable yard with damp, dull brown hair piled atop her head, Arawelo stood saddled beside the massive black warhorse, her ears pinned back in warning. The stallion pointedly ignored her as she snapped her teeth in his direction.
The sight of Kez tugged at something in Enya’s chest.Home. He looks like home.The gray whickered a greeting.
She stroked his nose and silently secured her saddlebags under Oryn’s stare. She slung her bow and quiver behind her back. He eyed them as if he thought of confiscating those too, but he turned the stallion toward the street and started on. His companions wordlessly followed and Arawelo fell into step beside Kez.
“Sleep well, Miss Ansel?” Aiden asked jovially as they plodded toward the gates.
“Fine.”
