Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice that Hadrian had stopped again, not until I walked straight into his back.
“I’m so—” I started to say, choking on a piece of bread that had lodged in my throat. But he only seemed amused when he turned to steady me.
“Am I that bad company that you feel the need to attack me when my back is turned?” he replied, arms raised in defeat.
“I wasn’t watching where I was going…”
Hadrian only laughed, patting my shoulder and gesturing to the dark wood building that was before us.
“Clearly. No harm done. We are here now, let us get inside before you cause some real damage.”
With that, he turned, pushed the door to the building open and disappeared into its smoky interior.
***
THE ANTLER & Wagon, as it was not so perfectly named, was unlike any tavern I’d visited before, and not one I thought a prince would ever be seen in. It was small, cramped and dark. Smoke filled the room from the elves sitting around small tables puffing on pipes that smelled of burned moss and oils. I noticed that the whites of their eyes were tainted red and smoke slipped from their relaxed mouths. Their faces were a painting of pleasure and exhaustion, a look that suggested they no longer sat in the room, but off in a faraway land. I’d seen the smoke before, and knew from the lingering smell what was in their pipes. Weelm. The drug had a relaxing effect on the taker. It dulled the senses until they were non-existent. Those who sat in the corner of the tavern would not hear, see or smell anything, not whilst they continued to puff away on their pipes.
Hadrian pointed at a small ale stained table at the opposite end of the tavern, motioning for me to go and wait there. He didn’t follow; instead he headed straight towards the stocky barmaid who’d not stopped watching us since the moment we entered.
I waded through the sea of thick smog that hung in the air, trying not to gag on the strong scent that displeased me. There were no windows; the only source of fresh air was from the closed door we had walked through. Weak flames hung in the corners of the room, filling the room with patches of light. Enough to illuminate the alabaster smoke and dirtied floor I walked over.
I sat down on a rickety stool, trying to focus on not coughing as the smoke invaded my lungs. Hadrian soon returned with the two tankards, slamming them on the table in front of me, froth spilling over the rims.
“Stinking Pig, one of the best ales in Thessolina.”
I looked in disgust at the thick brew before me, a new smell weaving in with the Weelm smoke. It didn’t look appetizing, but the name did explain the smell.
“Is there not any water I can have instead? I am not a big drinker of ale.” I lied for the second time. I loved ale, beer and cider, but I thought it best to have a clear mind.
His eyes widened, his hand rose to rest on his chest as he heaved in a shocked breath. “Water! You cannot possibly have water when I present you with one of the best drinks that has ever been brewed in our lands.” The sarcasm that poured from him was becoming unbearable.
I studied the ale again, deciding it best just to drink without thinking too much about it. The metal handle was cold in my hand, but I ignored it and tipped the ale into my mouth.
As the warm brew slipped past my lips, a burst of fruit and sugar coated my tongue, a taste I wasn’t expecting. It was delicious, refreshing and the perfect temperature. I looked over the tankard to Hadrian whose face beamed with pleasure. “I told you it is nice!” He chuckled.
I nodded and downed the entire drink, tipping the tankard upside down to allow every drop to enter my mouth. “I suppose I will have to get you another.”
Some dribbled from my mouth as I responded, “Please.”
Hadrian plucked the empty tankard from my hand and moved back towards the waiting barmaid who stood cleaning the side with a dirtied rag. Much help that seemed to be.
The ale soothed everything, dulling my need for fresh air and coating the worry that had made home in the pit of my stomach.
Hadrian returned with another tankard in hand, placing it down in front of me before sitting at the table.
“Take your time with this one, it shall be your last.” His golden eyes were trained to me. “Did they not have anything like this back home?”
“No, nothing like this. We had a local cider, but it seems dull in comparison.”
“And where is it you call home?” he asked.
“Horith.” I didn’t want to give too much information away. “It’s a small farming town somewhere south-west of here.”
“I have heard of it before, although have never visited. If I am correct, I believe Horith had made a name for itself from the production of the incredible potatoes grown there?”
It was true, Horith’s weather created the perfect growing conditions for the crop; the constant wet climate helped them thrive. It was the village’s claim to fame amongst neighbouring towns, so it came to no surprise that Hadrian had heard about it.
“Yes, we are the town famous by the potato.”
Hadrian laughed. “It could be worse.”
“I guess so.” I took another sip and looked around the room. Keeping my eyes on everything and anything but Hadrian.
“I think it best that we get a certain conversation over with,” he began, placing his tankard on the table and crossing both arms across his broad chest. “About what occurred this morning, and what left Commander Alina so flustered—which I must thank you for—it is a hobby of mine to see her face flush red.”
I took yet another swig. A large gulp in hopes that I would choke and not be able to answer. “Would you believe me if I said it was nerves?”
“Possibly, although that is not something my father is going to like to hear. I do not think he would appreciate such a wet excuse. And I do suggest that being honest with me will be the best decision you make.”
“I am being honest,” I lied, again.
Hadrian cocked his head to the side and raised both brows. “It must be a habit of yours to get yourself into trouble. You know what is funny? I spoke to the guards this morning who each informed me, by oath, that they did not run any initiation rites last night. So, you must understand why I am confused as to why you were outside if no one put you out there.”
A nervous laugh bubbled past my lips. I had found myself in a deeper hole then I had been in before.
“So, I ask again. Why is it you did not shift when asked to?”
“I’m not a shifter, that is why.” I looked down at a stain on the table.
“As in, you cannot shift because you didn’t want to, or you are not able to?”
“I’m unable to,” I said.
“That is impossible, Forbian does not affect those who are shifters and you were one of those left standing at the end of the night, correct?” The Prince ran a hand across his chin, scratching his head with his other hand.