Page 65 of Vengeance Becomes Her

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

They wasted no time hashing out their plan for how they’d find more information about the woman they were searching for. They’d heard a woman had fallen ill under suspicious circumstances that reminded Rhiannon of her own close call with death. They needed to find her so they can see what she might know about Silas and where he might have gone next. It wasn’t just that for Rhiannon, though. She wanted to see her, to talk to her. She’d lived, too, and Rhiannon was desperately curious to see if the same thing had happened to her.

To make the most of their time, they agreed to split up. Rhiannon would linger in the dining hall and eavesdrop on the other guests, while Tristain went to the local pub to try coaxing information out of some early drinkers.

The dining hall of the inn was full of voices, each layering over one another to create a jumbled mess of words. At least that was how it was at first. As Rhiannon sipped her coffee, her veins buzzing with the caffeine and her brain suddenly more alert, the voices started to become clearer, allowing her mind to home in on certain conversations. To her right, a group of women were caught up in discussion, their voices rising slightly to lay claim as the dominant member of the conversation. Rhiannon focused on them, blocking out the voices battling for her attention on her left.

The womanshe could see most clearly from her vantage point had high cheekbones, dark blond hair in a severe bun, and the straightest posture Rhiannon had ever seen. Her eyes were beady with harsh brows that seemed to remain furrowed in irritation. Rhiannon focused all her attention on listening to their conversation.

“Her mother has been in shambles since Samara decided to throw her future away. She’s at an utter loss for how to deal with the childever since that man left. She refuses to get out of bed most days, and when she does, she doesn’t make any effort to make herself presentable, strolling around in her bed clothes, hair undone and disheveled. It’s dishonorable.” The woman’s hands were tight fists on the table.

The woman next to her turned, her mouth a grimace as she extended her hand and closed it over the woman’s fist. “Surely, she isn’t doing this to spite them. She seems to be in pain. Has she been seen by the doctor? From what I’ve heard of the situation, she claims someone tried to kill her. That seems like it would be quite the traumatizing ordeal, don’t you think?”

The imposing woman jerked her hand out of the other’s. “The girl is clearly delusional. She obviously can’t handle being left behind. What did she think would happen though, I simply can’t understand. She flaunted her relationship all over town, my sister says. It seems they were quite intimate. She can’t have expected a man of high standing to marry a woman who allows herself to be swept up in an indecent romance so easily. You would have to be completely out of touch to think a man like him would stay with a girl like that.” The woman laughed without humor into her tea.

Her dark-haired companion’s hand flew to her chest, as if she could shield the girl’s heart from the hurtful words. “Mira, you can’t mean that. You haven’t been here. If you had witnessed the two of them together, you would have seen for yourself that they were equally enamored with one another. I was shocked to hear that he left town and that their engagement had been called off.” She wrung her delicate hands together, realizing she was on shaky ground with the other woman. “Especially given the accusations she made. You should have seen her. She looked so sickly, some of us were concerned that she wouldn’t make it to her next birthday for those first few weeks.”

Suddenly, Rhiannon’s hand was hot, too hot. She was snapped back into the moment by the burning in her fingers. She hadn’t realized that she was firmly gripping her mug of freshly poured coffee. At the shock of the searing pain in her hand, she snatched it back, the mug tipping in the process. She fumbled forward, trying to grab the handle, but she was too late to react. The steaming brown liquid raced down the table toward the woman with the sharp tongue. She let out a screech, jerking back but stuck in her place because the bench was crowded by the people surrounding her on both sides.

She shot a look at Rhiannon that made her flinch.

“You stupid girl. What is your problem?” The woman battered her deep blue dress with the cloth napkin that had been on her lap. She was breathing roughly, clearly enraged.

Rhiannon drummed up the little humility she had left in her, trying to suppress her desire to tell the woman off for her insult. Admittedly, it took her a minute. She fought with her muscles, forcing her lips into an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry. I hope you aren’t hurt. I burned my hand on the hot cup and tipped it over in the process. Please let me buy your meal as an apology.” She picked up her napkin, extending it to the woman whose face was now atwisted scowl.

“Young women these days simply have no wits about them. Running around like a bunch of bumbling idiots.”

Rhiannon’s smile dropped immediately, her fists balling at her sides. “You know what. I take that back. I hope you have a nice little burn to remember me by, you insufferable hag.” She snatched her arm back, withdrawing the napkin and threw it on the table, along with payment for the coffee and pastry she’d had earlier. “Oh, and by the way, it sounds like that girl—who’s actually a woman by the way—is going through something, so maybe you should try showing some compassion instead of acting like a soulless prude.”

She intended to make a dramatic exit, but her thighs were caught between the tight space of the bench and the table top. For once she cursed her large thighs as she sat back and slid herself out with as much grace as she could recover. As she stormed out, she turned to give the woman one last withering look. The clear disrespect caused her mouth to gape open in disbelief, which quickly turned Rhiannon’s mood around.

She exited the dining room with a mischievous smile pasted across her face. Pleased with herself both for standing up for herself and Samara and gathering information they could actually use.

She set off to find Tristain somewhere on the busy street. She was suddenly in a sea of people, the wind rustling her hair around her face, and the chill biting into her skin, a far cry from the warm comfort of the inn. The high she felt from her encounter subdued as she bundled herself up against the cold. Oakhaven was temperate nearly all year, she didn’t know how to handle this kind of cold, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

Her gaze swept over the business names that lined the street, looking for taverns or card rooms. It wasn’t just the weather that was different here, a lot of things were. For one, the vast majority of the people here had light hair and pale skin. She wasn’t used to being places where everyone looked so similar. People from all over came to Oakhaven since it was fairly close to the coast of Larindia. It was a bit disconcerting, but she assumed it was because people were much more likely to flock to warmer climates than places where it snowed and carried a bitter chill in the air. She didn’t know if it was the fact that this was the type of town people traveled through for trade that made Norhavalta buzz with an unsettled energy. The atmosphere felt like a shirt that was a size too tight. Like the people here were stuck in order to keep the town going. She could imagine that contributed to the reputation it had for being a town of drunks and rowdy travelers. Understandably, people would be bored and need to let some steam off. It made her miss the easy, sleepy air of home.

Above and beyond the population and weather, the buildings were different too. Where Oakhaven was heavy stone, dark tones, and wide sprawling homes, Norhavalta was made up of taller, narrower structures that featured neutral tones. It was interesting to her to see how other people lived.

While she could admire it, it wasn’t the distraction she needed right now. She was growing impatient that she hadn’t come across any taverns but then she caught the musty scent of dust and warm beer. The raucous laughter that spilled out of the open door drew her attention.

She summoned all the patience she could muster and forced her way through the worn door. She was instantly submerged into near-darkness and dampened air. She begrudgingly began to look around, noting the slackened faces and messy clothing of the men who occupied the space. Much like the patrons, the place itself was disheveled—stools overturned, built-up grime on the surfaces, and a front door that was slightly off its hinges. Surely Tristain hadn’t lingered here. These men didn’t seem like the type to keep up on town gossip, and if they did, they probably didn’t remember it now seeing as most of them were barely able to hold their eyes open.

She felt someone approaching her from behind and turned quickly, drawing her dagger from her side. It glistened in her hand as she brought the tip up to the man’s chin. His hand was outreached, just a few inches from her shoulder. The man had shaggy blond hair and rank breath that made herwant to vomit.

“Back the fuck up before I plunge this into your throat.” She heard a stool screech as someone stood a few feet away. “Don’t come any closer, unless you want to watch your friend here bleed out.” She flicked her eyes over her shoulder to get a peek at whether they were approaching or not. They’d frozen in place as she’d hoped. “There might be more of you than there are of me, but I’ll kill as many of you as I have to. And as much as that sounds like fun, I do have somewhere to be.” A few men mumbled in agreement, the man she held at knifepoint swallowed hard but didn’t dare try to disarm her. “You’re going to let me leave and you can go back to your drinking, and we’ll all go about our day.”

A gruff voice spoke to her right, making her flinch. “Get out and don’t come back or you won’t be so lucky.” The man in front of her sighed with relief. She had to resist the urge to prick him, but she restrained herself to avoid further issues, she didn’t need to make enemies when they were going to be sticking around for a while.

When Rhiannon was back out in the cool air, the shock of noise and normalcy brought her into the now and she realized how bad that could have been. Still, she didn’t feel inclined to dampen her temper, she was done allowing men to do with her as they pleased. She wouldn’t sit back and be hurt again. She straightened her shoulders, sheathed her blade, and continued onto the next tavern hopeful she’d find Tristain sooner rather than later so they could track Samara down. She steeled herself for another potential encounter as she walked into the next tavern. Fortunately, this one was much more well-kept and seemed to have a gentlemanly clientele.

The air smelled of expensive liquor, musk, and tobacco. The yellow lighting and smoke created a hazy atmosphere as she made her way past table after table of men playing cards. Beautiful women were sitting in their laps or whispering over their shoulders, their fingers lingering on their chests, curling around their neck, or sliding down their thigh.

She heard that warm laughter she’d know anywhere, her head snapping in the direction of Tristain. He cheered as a man to his left slapped his shoulder in congratulations. He looked comfortable here, and so did the woman with the curled onyx hair and generous bosom who leaned over his shoulder, her lips hovering close to his ear as she ran her fingers across his chest.

He stared down at his cards intently, the right side of his lips curled in a wry smile. He must have had a good hand. He was easy confidence, as always. As he considered his next move, that ever-unruly piece of hair fell to his eyebrow. The woman reached up with her long fingers to shift it off his face—Rhiannon’s entire body stiffened with burning hot jealousy—but before she made contact, the movement caught Tristain’s attention. His eyes lingered on the woman’s face for a moment, but his body language was rigid, his shoulders angled away from her reach. He pushed the stray hair away on his own, rolling his shoulders to force her to stand back. As she backed away, his eyes flicked to Rhiannon’s. Something like embarrassment crossed his features, but then a small smile spread. He looked guilty, but he didn’t need to. They weren’t together,she had no say.

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