People were coming and going, stable hands taking horses from those arriving. Once again, no one paid us any attention.
I slid off the horse, my knees twinging as I hit the ground. Lorian handed the horse off to one of the grooms with a few murmured words, and the others did the same. Within a few minutes, we were walking into the inn.
The warmth of the inn hit me, finally warming bones I swore were still half frozen from that god-awful river, and my eyelids immediately grew heavy.
Someone let out a screaming laugh. I jumped, gazing around blearily, and Lorian placed his hand on my lower back. I suspected he was attempting to calm me the same way he would calm his horse directly after he’d startled.
I didn’t know whether to be offended or amused.
To our left, a fire roared. Its sparks escaping the hearth, the orange-blue light from the flames flickering on the faces of those dining at the scarred wooden tables. The tables in the center of the common room had been wedged so close together, it was as if everyone was dining as one big family.
Considering I was in hiding, I would much prefer a dimmer room and separate tables.
In the corner, the barkeep was boiling a cauldron of stew. The steam from the huge pot made its way over to me, carrying with it the scent of fresh-baked bread and some kind of gamey meat. My stomach howled.
Lorian took my arm and directed me to a table near the back of the common room, where he sat positioned with his back against the wall. I was too tired to protest the manhandling, and I slipped into the chair next to him, keeping my cloak over my head.
I tuned out the conversation as the men murmured to one another. My eyes must have slid closed, because a nudge from Lorian’s elbow had them shooting open. Rythos smirked at me. “Sleepy?”
Someone plonked a bowl of stew and a cup of ale in front of me. I handed the ale to Rythos. I’d never gotten a taste for it. Now, wine, on the other hand…
I drank the last of my water, the warmth of the room and salt in the stew stoking my thirst. Tucking the skin back into my cloak, I got to my feet. Lorian’s hand immediately caught my arm in that enchanting way he did, which never failed to make me feel like his prisoner.
“Where are you going?”
“To get water. Release me,” I ground out, suddenly frustrated. I was almost desperate with thirst, and the sooner I finished my stew, the sooner I could crawl into bed.
Lorian let my arm go, and I crossed the inn, aiming for the barkeep. He nodded when I asked for water and pointed me toward a pitcher and several cups. I took a cup, relatively sure the men would much prefer their ale.
Still, I probably should have offered.
I turned, slamming into a giant chest.
“Well, lookee here.” The man grinned at me maniacally. The lower half of his face was almost completely covered in a dark-gray beard which he’d let grow down to his chest. His hand shot out, pushing the hood of my cloak off my face. With my cup in one hand and my reflexes dull from weariness, I was too slow to stop him.
“We have a wee beauty in our midst. Where did you come from, lady?”
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. Without my hood over my head, I felt naked. Would he recognize me?
I forced my voice to stay steady. “Nowhere you’ll know. Let me pass.”
“Now that’s not nice. That cloak is made of a fine material. Your dress could use a cleaning though. I’d be more than happy for you to drop it onto the floor of my room to be laundered—”
“Move,” a low voice ordered.
I glanced past the bearded man to where Lorian stood, his irritation clear. Our eyes met, and my face burned. The next time I wanted to walk ten paces away from him, he would likely refuse, like the tyrant he was.
The unfairness of it all made my hands shake with fury. Some of the water sloshed over the side of my cup, and Beard dropped his gaze.
“Now see what you’ve done? You’ve frightened the little bird.”
Lorian followed his gaze. Then his eyes met mine again. He knew I wasn’t frightened.
“Move, or I’ll move you.” The words were flat, but I’d seen Lorian take that exact stance right before he trained with his men.
Beard spun on Lorian, his movements unsteady. I stepped back, but his elbow knocked the water out of my hand. I watched as my cup fell to the floor.
Perfect.
“Now, don’t you be causing a scene.” Beard swept his arm around him to the people watching in a way that made it evident he relished the thought of a scene. “I was just saying hello to your traveling companion.”
Lorian watched him silently. His expression was blank, but those green eyes were filled with an icy rage.
When he didn’t reply, Beard reached out both hands to push him.
Lorian was standing in front of him.
And then he wasn’t.
He moved so fast, my breath caught in my throat. Stepping to the side, he lashed out with methodical precision, avoiding the man’s punch and slapping him across the face.
The crack of the slap carried through the inn, and all I could hear was the sound of witnesses sucking in a breath.
I sighed. Slapping the bearded giant was a calculated move. Lorian wanted to humiliate him.
Beard bellowed a garbled threat, swinging again, but Lorian was no longer there, his expression bored. I blinked. I’d never seen anyone move like that. It was as if he had the power to stop time.
He slapped Beard again.
“Lorian,” I growled. This was just drawing more attention. If he didn’t stop, someone would call the authorities. Lorian glanced at me, and his green eyes flashed. But some of the languid fury drained from his expression.
Beard stumbled. Lorian took a step back and crossed his arms. Beard’s hand came up to his nose—now crooked and bleeding.
Lorian had broken his nose with that second slap.
“Leave,” he said. His voice was so quiet, I had to strain to hear it, and I was just a few feet away.
Beard spat on the floor. “Whore,” he hissed at me.
I curled my lip at him but managed to keep my mouth shut.
Lorian took a single step toward Beard, and he stumbled back, turned and fled. I slammed my hand into Lorian’s chest. “Enough.”
His gaze dropped to my hand, and when his eyes met mine, they were still feral. I glanced at the people watching us, and Lorian slowly turned, raking his gaze over the room. Everyone suddenly found other things to look at.
My eyes burned.
“You’re hurt?” Lorian’s voice was rough.
I shook my head, and to my intense embarrassment, a tear threatened to spill over. I sniffed.
“What is this?” His eyes narrowed. “Do you want me to hurt him some more?”
“No, I don’t want you to hurt him some more,” I hissed, my eyes drying. “I’m upset because the water spilled, and I wanted that water!”
He cast a disinterested look at the water on the floor. Then he glanced back at my face. “After everything you’ve been through since you left your village, this is what makes you teary?”
“I’m exhausted, you brute.”
With a sigh, he stalked over to one of the barmaids, who immediately handed him a fresh cup and an entire pitcher of water.