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Chapter 3
The Queen
We are finishing up the last of our opening tasks as the first patrons waltz through the door—a couple of regulars who have been here every night this week.
I plaster a cheery smile across my face while delivering mugs of cooled ale to the men. They attempt to sneak a feel as I walk by, believing they have a right to grab at me. But I’m quick on my feet and can dodge most of them.
The evening progresses with nothing out of the ordinary. Patrons come and go. Harvey and I deliver ale, wine, and snacks upon request. We wash mugs and sweep the floors as needed, trying to keep on top of tasks. The sour smell of drinks and sweat-soaked bodies grows thicker with each passing hour.
Harvey and I have developed a rhythm and routine over the past week. We flow together and anticipate what the other needs without exchanging words. We continue our dance as the sun fades from the sky and the starry night hangs above.
The tavern door slams open as I’m cleaning up a mug of spilled ale from the bar. I look up to see Creepy Gate Guard stumbling in.
Three other guards follow him, and I recognize them all from the training yard. They all walk unsteadily as they enter.
Unfortunately, Creepy catches my attention and flashes me a wicked smile. I groan and get back to cleaning the counter but catch him moving toward me out of the corner of my eye.
He plops down on the stool in front of me, and I tilt my head slightly to look at him. He smells strongly of sour ale and sweat. It makes my eyes burn. I turn around to wring out the cloth soaked with the spilled ale, and I feel his eyes trace over every inch of my body.
My skin hums with the need to show this man what I am capable of. Suppressing the rage building inside me, I turn around, wiping my hands on my apron. His tongue slides over his bottom lip as he stares at me.
I work hard to suppress a scowl and exchange it for the welcoming smile of a simple barmaid.
“What will it be? A mug of ale? Or some Fati wine? We have one of their summer bottles which tastes like sunshine. I don’t know how they do it, but it’s magical,” I say, stepping up to the counter and placing my hands wide atop it.
He continues to stare at my body before landing on my breasts.
“I’ll take a piece of you,” he says, slowly bringing his eyes to mine.
I clench my jaw so hard I think I may break a tooth.
“Sorry, I’m not on the menu. What else can I get you?” I bring my hands together in front of me on the counter, interlacing my fingers.
Creepy grabs both of my wrists so hard that I’m sure I will bruise. I am shocked by the audacity of this man to put his hands on a woman he doesn’t know. I could be a ruthless killer for all he knows. And I am, so he should probably make better life choices.
Through clenched teeth, I spit out, “Let go of me.”
The darkness writhes inside of me, wanting a piece of this man. I lock eyes with him, and a look I’m all too familiar with dances across his face. He thinks I’m just another weak woman. I’m just an object for him to play with. This man wants to hurt me, and the thought of doing so excites him.
Oh, how wrong he is.I’ve taken down bigger pieces of shit than this guy.
“The lady doesn’t want your hands on her, Jonathan. It would be wise to remove them immediately,” a rich, deep voice echoes through the small space.
The bustling tavern seems to halt in silence, all eyes focus on the situation at the bar. The newcomer moves behind Creepy, whose name is Jonathan apparently, and places a large hand on his shoulder.
Leaning down so his head is even with Jonathan’s ear, he grits out forcefully, “Let go of her. Now. That is an order, guard.”
