Page 88 of Silverbow
He sighed and finally felt her fleeting gaze flick toward him. He offered the pipe silently. She acknowledged it with an arched brow and went back to gazing at nothing. Oryn drummed his fingers on the table, taking in her profile. She didn’t look as haggard as when they’d first found her, but her grief was etched once again below her eyes. Below the shadows, constellations of freckles dusted her high cheekbones like the stars she stared at when she should be sleeping. In the silence, the strange hum that filled his ears seemed to grow louder. It was going to drive him mad.
“I did not realize Ryerson House bred mules.” The words that tumbled from his lips seemed to surprise them both. He had been planning to win this contest of wills. The faintest curve of her lips hinted she was amused by his loss. “Why won’t you let me heal you?”
She hesitated so long he thought she wasn’t going to answer. “It hardly hurts.”
Oryn puzzled over that. He knew it was a lie. She could hardly climb the stairs without wincing, but nothing in her features named her a liar. It made him shift uncomfortably. He set his pipe on the table and stood.
“Where are you going?” She asked only half-heartedly.
“To borrow a page out of Aiden’s book. Don’t climb out of the window. Please.”
She didn’t acknowledge his request.
When Oryn hurried down the stairs and crossed the common room, Bade lifted a questioning brow his way. Renna, beaming out from behind the bar, was keeping his ale full where he sat. He was relieved Rosella did not stand at her elbow, and Oryn put on his best smile. “What do you have for wine, Renna?”
The sour smelling brew she dribbled from a cask made him shake his head. She flitted around the corner to a store room and returned with a dusty bottle in hand. “Master Gillig bought this off a trader from Moshelle, my lord. Will this do?”
Oryn pulled the cork and gave it a sniff, ignoring the subtle amusement etched into Bade’s features. “That’ll do, Renna. Is the private dining room in use?”
“No, my lord, go ahead.”
Oryn knew from their time in Ested that the Bloated Goat had little to pass the time except for its barmaids, but there had been a handful of odds and ends tucked away on the shelves. He pushed open the door and browsed through worn copies of uninteresting books left behind. There was a deck of cards, but he knew few games of cards, and doubted she did either. They were gambler’s games, and Oryn had never considered himself a gambling man. He picked up a cloth pouch. Stones rattled within. He rooted through the dusty shelves to find the painted board. Stones would occupy enough time, if she knew how to play. And if she didn’t, it could occupy even more, as long as she didn’t stab him for trying to teach her the rules. With a sigh, he tucked the board under his arm and climbed the stairs.
He was relieved to find her sitting where he’d left her, seemingly still set on ignoring him. He scooped up his pipe and held it between his teeth as he poured two cups of the Goat’s best wine. Her brows climbed when he set the stones board between them.
“Do you know it?” It was a common game amongst the nobility and the well-educated, but making any presumptions about pastimes in such an unconventional house seemed a risk.
In answer, Enya silently plucked a black stone and set it on the board for her opening. Oryn realized it was a strong opening as she built out a formation that mercilessly decimated his own. He found himself stewing over the board as he might in a game against Leon or Colm. She was good. He watched her over his wine cup, pondering the mystery of the most wanted woman in Estryia.
When they descended back to the common room for dinner, a pink flush had crept into her cheeks, but she still hadn’t spoken. Oryn had only once, to surrender a match, but she watched him ruthlessly sweep her stones from theboard long after it was apparent she would lose, refusing to admit defeat. She was really good and now she was drunk.
Aiden ensured her cup remained full throughout the meal, and when she was bleary eyed and swaying in her seat, he gave Oryn a wink and moved off to dice with some merchant’s guards at a corner table. Bade drifted back to the bar, and the barmaids shuffled some chairs from the center of the room when a dreadful lute player started strumming.
Enya eyed the barmaid who had settled into Aiden’s lap. “Do none of you have wives?” She asked suddenly.
“I did,” Colm said, and Oryn stiffened at the flicker of memory that crossed the man’s face. “If the gods are kind, we will find each other in the next life.”
She turned her unfocussed eyes on Oryn. “And you?”
“The rest of us remain untethered.”
“Is a wife just a tether then?” She challenged.
“What would you call your suitors?”
She gave Oryn a flat look and turned back to where a few of the barmaids were being spun about by farmers and guardsmen. Oryn watched too, but not the dancers. With Bade and Aiden occupied, he scanned the common room for signs of trouble. Colm did the same, though an easy smile flitted across his face and he exchanged friendly words with the girls who came by the table. They would get no more from him. The poor man still pined for Maille after all this time.
Enya suddenly pushed her chair back and rose, swaying on her feet.
“Where are you going?” Oryn asked.
She narrowed her eyes and pointed to the middle of the floor. “Over there,my lord. Must I ask your permission to cross the room?”
“Ansel-”
She turned, not waiting for his argument. He didn’t object to her dancing, gods knew he wouldn’t object to anything that brought her out of her grief, even temporarily, but every word she spoke was in the clipped accent of the west. It would be noticed in a place like Ested. Before she’d even reached the makeshift dance floor, a farmer bounded to his feet and bowed over her hand. He cast a quizzical look at Oryn, but the girl gave him a dazzling smile and he set her spinning across the floor.
“You should have thought about this before you fed her half a bottle of wine,” Colm grinned, clapping along to the tune.
