Page 18 of The Sorcerer's Thief
“If that’s your only complaint, it’s easily resolved.” He twirls the three fingers of his right hand, and the air shimmers faintly golden. “No one will hear.”
“Wait. Did you magic us a bubble so you could talk dirty to me in public?”
The smile is back, only this time, it appears genuine, and it’s on hisrealface. He raises his shoulders in a barely there shrug. “I’ve done more for less. Shall I continue?”
I’m too stunned to answer.
“You should have seen yourself earlier, mouth covered in sweet purple plum juice. All I could think was would they leave a purple stain around my cock if you were to kneel for me? I bet they would.”
Well,thattells me a bit about how he’d be in bed, doesn’t it? “You’re just trying to stop me from asking about that fae headed to Willowood.”
His seductive smirk sinks like a stone in water, leaving the familiar scowl in its place. “He’s going where?”
“You heard me.” I cross my arms. “What’s it to you?”
His mouth forms a tight line. He wrinkles the bridge of his nose as he takes a breath, and his expression is suddenly neutral.
“If you’re trying to hide your reaction, you failed. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Give me the coin, and I will.”
I’m over the futile back-and-forth. And I’m tired, with very little time to catch a nap before I abandon him here.
“I’ve paid for supper and the drinks already”—I rise from my chair and push it under the table—“since you provided lunch.” My coin satchel is pregnant from my time in Lemossin. Enough to repay a favor. I abhor a debt, any debt, but especially one to slimy sorcerers.
“I thought you were a thief.”
“I don’t steal from humans or commoners.”
“A thief with morals.” He arches his brows. “Questionable morals, but morals nonetheless.”
“At least Ihavemorals.”
“You’re implying I don’t?”
“Do you?”
A shark smile slashes wide across Julian’s face as he sinks back in his seat and opens his palms. “Perhaps one day you’ll find out.”
We need to be done talking. “I’m not buying your room.”
“I have my own money.”
Of course he does. The man looks rich as dark chocolate on caramel. He wouldn’t know what it’s like to go hungry. To watchyour family grow sick and die. To finally find a treasure, only for a stranger to demand it be handed over.
Julian gazes past me. The old door hinges creak, and he relaxes. His posture loosens, perhaps experiencing the effects of the ale. Perhaps not. “Is the guildsman gone, then?”
“He is.”
“Goody for you.” I leave him without a backward glance, more than ready to be alone in a room for a few hours of solace. And hopefully sleep.
The barkeep directs me through a narrow hall and up an even narrower flight of stairs. The walls are so tight I feel too big. Like my shoulders are too wide and my lungs too full for my chest. But as quickly as it started, it’s over, and the room she leaves me in isn’t nearly so boxed in.
I make use of the chamber pot, wash my face and hands, and call that good enough. The bed awaits. I collapse onto the itchy wool cover without taking off a stitch of clothing or my boots. Being fully dressed will make it easier to leave in a couple of hours.
I definitely do not think of what Julian said to me in our magical silence bubble.
Lying to myself is a habit I ought to break.
