Page 52 of A War of Embers

Instead Rowan does nothing.

Even now, as he stands across the courtyard with his hands stuffed in his pockets, a frown marring his face, he merely watches my movements carefully as Zeke and I enter the area. No one stops to talk to us or hinder our path. Just beyond the courtyard I spy the fires from the torches in the tree line. Only a quick walk to them, a half-days trek back to the estate.

Turning to Zeke, I grab his forearm to stop him from continuing. When he raises his brows, I lift my chin in the direction of the forest. “I’d rather go back.”

“You need to talk to him.”

Talk? As if Rowan will ever listen to my pleas. “I have no interest in talking to him or anyone else.”

“Keres–”

Pivoting, I start walking towards the forest. It’s clear Zeke won’t hear me either. As Rowan’s right hand man, there’s little point in trying to argue the point with him. Suddenly Zeke jumps in front of me, but I react on instinct, raising my sword and planting my feet in a defensive position. My voice comes out not my own. The Slayer of Cinnabar, down to my bones, reverberates my chest as my detached tenor states, “Move or I will make you, dragon.”

Zeke’s eyes track my own. Whatever he sees in them causes his feet to fall back a step. Clearly he wants to argue with me about my choice, but only the scarf puffs out where his angry breathing can be seen.

“Let her go,” Rowan’s voice announces from close behind me. “She won’t flee.”

I don’t turn around to look at him. If I look at him, there’s a good chance I’ll be raising my sword and actually swinging it down, aiming to cut off his head. Moving forward, I toss my shoulder aggressively into Zeke, half praying he’ll choose to fight, but I continue on without hindrance. I have half the mind to go back to the estate and wallow in my sorrows and I have half the mind to dive back into the Blood Sea and climb back into Cinnabar myself. Barreling up the hill, the sharp climate change is barely noticeable, but my insides freeze over and my mind operates on autopilot.

Is Lady Gwenyth trying to activate me or am I merely going back to the version of myself I’ve known for so long who feels and heeds nothing?

The smell of alcohol nearly drowns out the salty air from outside. This posh place is a far cry from Halley’s in the heart of Cinnabar. Where dark and dingy wood with homeless men in corners was considered the norm, this place seems like only the elite should inhabit.

The man at the door didn’t stop me from entering, though he did eye my sword warily. The feral snarl I shot him, daring him to deny me access while the tattoo climbed up to rest on the side of my cheek for all to see practically made his poor eyes bulge out of their sockets.

Instead of heading back to the estate, I decided a hard reset was in order. I needed something familiar, like a bar, where I could watch people, drink a pint, and shut off the stream of emotions flooding me. Alcohol is a great way to become numb. Hallsman would agree adamantly about it, so nothing else needs to be said.

The interior of this place makes everyone appear as though they don’t belong. Chandeliers with crystals on the ceiling, bright white walls, and a glass bar top so you can see the selections below and behind the counter.

People are dressed in everyday clothes. No one seems to be rich or upscale regardless of the palatial appearance of the bar. If I’m not mistaken, a few customers are even playing beer pong off a golden table towards the back.

The pint I ordered is placed in front of me at the edge of the bar. I stare at it, in a crystal tumbler, wanting to chuck the entire thing against the back wall. Hallsman would be offended by so many things if he saw the inside of this place.

The mirror across the back of the back seems pretty standard. And it’s cleanliness allows for me to glance around the area without craning my neck.

Several people have glanced at me, down to my sword, and swiftly away. A few people continue to stare in awe. I’m sure they don’t get a lot of people toting weapons around, let alone a female doing so. Still, no one approaches, which is fine by me. I don’t wish to speak to anyone.

Coming back through the forest, Meredith and Deena tried to grab my attention several times. Whatever look they saw me wearing halted their attempts however.

Did I look as crazed as I felt on the inside? Or was I able to conceal my emotions the way I had before climbing the cliff into Aïdes?

No one stopped me in the forest. Even coming back into the city, no one guarded the gates refusing me entry into the public. I never even saw Alyvia.

I needed a semblance of normal which eventually led me here.

Sipping from the pint, I study the players in the back of the room at the golden table. They’re drunk, but not so drunk they’re missing shots. Several land close before finally the small ball lands in one of the crystal glasses and a cheer rings throughout the bar. I raise my glass along with other patrons in a congratulatory manner, despite the players not paying any attention to their surroundings.

Movement from the mirror catches my eye. Near the entrance, a few people are trying to shuffle inside. Several of them are from the estate, but not any I know or had any interactions with. None of them look my way or pay any attention. Their shift must be over and they’ve gathered together for a fun night out.

The sun is set to rise in a few hours and my internal battery is beginning to dwindle but I refuse to get up and go back to the estate. I don’t want to answer anyone’s questions or listen to someone rant about my actions. It will come, I know it will, but putting it off seems like a necessary evil for my thoughts to simmer down before charging head first into the enemy’s home.

Is Rowan my enemy? He’s certainly not my savior.

I drain the rest of my tumbler with the dark thought and press coins onto the bar top with enough force the glass splinters under my fingers. The barkeep freezes at the commotion, remaining silent and wide eyed in their fear of me.

Shoving away, I grip my sword and move back through the crowd into the night air. The bouncer eyes me before slamming the door shut behind me. For some reason it makes me smile.

Little ole me scared a man who looks the size of a dragon and the width of a house into shutting out the riff raff. Can’t say I entirely blame him for choosing to close the door in my face as a silent you’re not welcome here.

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