Page 39 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

“Fuck,” he said aloud, breathing in sharply. He realized he had ruined his plan to stay unnoticed. There were ways to subdue his enemy without causing such a stir, and he entirely failed at that.

“Don’t mind them,” she said. “They’re the village idiots.” She leaned forward, placing her hand near her mouth to whisper. “They think elves are rubbish in a can of waste and piss.”

The woman pulled off her apron and placed it on the counter. “Come on, let’s clean you up.” She snapped her fingers and gestured to the bar.

Aiden’s brows pinched together as the man who held the pistol placed it back in his holster and came around the bar as if he, too, worked there.

Aiden kept his feet planted on the floor, refusing to move.

The redhead’s lips tightened as she glared at him. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Come on, now, they’ll be fine. Grab that stronger drink and follow me.”

Aiden glanced at the men once more. All three immediately looked away, most likely realizing that fighting a six-foot-seven Elven warrior had been dimwitted and careless. The man with the broken wrist hovered in the corner, using his other hand to hold it together.

Aiden followed the woman to a hallway at the back of the bar. She bent down, gripping a latch at the floor.

“I’m Tegan,” she said, her lips turning up into a genuine smile, causing her dimples to appear.

Her vibrant beauty caught his breath. “Uh, Aiden,” he breathed. “I’m just passing through, I—”

He tilted his head to the side, watching Tegan lift a floorboard covering an underground room.

“I don’t want to cause an inconvenience,” he said.

She threw her hand up. “I don’t own the bar, Aiden. I work here to pay my rent. When I see a beautiful man like yourself looking for help, I give it. Now follow me.”

They entered a small space below the tavern. The room carried the scent of perfume, masking the acrid smell of what Aiden believed to be mold. His eyes danced around the small space. There was nothing but a tiny bed, a pile of clothes in a bin at the corner by the washroom, and a tub.

“Well,” she said, lighting two lanterns by the bed, “This is it.” Loose spiral curls had escaped her braid and fell over her eyes as she bent down to pick up a white towel from the ground, then tossed it to him. “You smell like horse manure, Aiden. You’ll clean up here.” The merest hint of a smile brightened her already charming features.

Aiden opened his mouth to protest but found himself silent. Instead, he nodded. If he was going to have the strength needed to get to Newick, he needed both to bathe and rest his head—the journey up the mountain, though only taking a few hours, felt like an entire day.

She stopped at the stairs before climbing back up. “You’re not going to kill me?” she asked, arching a brow. “You have kind eyes. Has anyone told you that?”

Aiden couldn’t help but smile at her strange behavior. He hadn’t met someone like her before. It is refreshing, he thought.

However, his attempt to smile faltered. “No, Tegan, I’m not going to kill you.”

She let out a whistling sound. “Whew. That’s good to hear. There’s been a monster tearing through our village all week. I’ve survived so far, and I would hate to be taken out by a sword in my own room.”

Aiden stilled. Suppose the creature had started in Newick and was already moving through every city and village in Myloria. Even heading down the trail of Whitestone Mountain, killing anyone that had magic. In that case, that thing was coming for everyone, not just the Newick witches.

“How many from your village?” he asked, waiting in eerie silence as she counted on her fingers.

“Six so far,” she said. “It was only here for a day, but it murdered all the folks who carried magical gifts. It likes to disappear back into the forest rather quickly after it’s eaten.”

Aiden’s memories of earlier that morning haunted his thoughts once more. The memory he hoped to drown out with bourbon came crawling back, making his stomach tighten and bile rise to his throat. He saw Valkanon’s face again, a desperate plea in his eyes for Aiden to save himself.

She regarded his expression and held out a towel. “Anyways, let’s get you cleaned up. You really do smell like horse shit.” After Tegan winked, she moved past him, stopping at the doorway. “The water is warm, but it won’t last. Probably best make it a quick one. There’s soap next to the tub.”

As she turned to walk up the steps, Aiden called back, “What city are we in?” he said, holding back his pain with a stern stare and jaw set.

“Oh, um, you’re in Heyerberg,” she said.

Heyerberg—Elijah’s birthplace. I’m in the country of Myloria but still too far from my destination. But he couldn’t tell the stranger where he was going, he reminded himself. Trust no one.

“Aiden, I suggest once you clean up and get some food and rest, you be on your way.”

Tegan left him down in the room and he looked around. She was right. The more people knew about him, the harder it would be to make it to Kieran without being stopped and questioned. If Kieran knew he was coming, he would lose that element of surprise and get himself killed.

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