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“Sure.” Picking up one of the plates on the table, she glared at him. “If I get to shove this plate up your ass, first.”
The table of men laughed, but it was clear her threat didn’t dissuade the deer-horned man. “I like the feisty ones! C’mon, pretty thing—Walter can spare you for half an hour.”
“Oh? That’s how little time it’d take? How charming—” Gwen grimaced. And it was then that she noticed the smell of something burning. Looking down, she watched as smoke curled from the wooden plate she held—from under her fingers.
She was burning the plate.
Swearing under her breath, she quickly put it out with the rag at her belt, praying nobody had noticed. “Leave me alone.” Without another look at the table or anything around her, she hurried into the back, carrying the wooden plate under the rag.
Once she reached privacy, she unfolded the rag to look at what she had done. Sure enough, burned into the plate was a handprint. Her thumb on the top, and her fingers on the bottom. She had charred it black, but luckily hadn’t actually set it on fire. “Shit. Shit.” Maybe she could get rid of the plate before Walter noticed and figured out she was a?—
“I sent them away.” Walter walked into the back room, frowning at her. “Sorry you had to put up with that. He’s a louse.” He glanced down at the plate.
Gwen fought the urge to hide it behind her back like she was a child. It was too late. She felt tears sting her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, I was afraid you’d—you’d?—”
“What, learn you were a bit clumsy and burned a plate on a candle?” He smiled knowingly and took the plate from her before promptly tossing it into the bin of garbage. “It’s just a plate. Nothing to worry over. Once you’re done cleaning those tables, you can stop for the night. But be careful, will you? The last thing I need is this place burning down.” He walked from the kitchen, a faint smile still on his face.
He knew what she was. He knew. And…he was letting it slide. Wiping her eyes, she let out a wavering breath, trying to calm down after the rush of adrenaline. She liked the innkeeper, and she had really enjoyed her day. The last thing she wanted was for him to turn on her once he learned she was an elemental. Or a wizard. Or whatever she was now.
Heading back out to the floor, she did as he had instructed, focusing on cleaning the tables and mopping up the floor. Eod was lounging in front of the fireplace, watching her movements. Her protector, as always.
The rest of the night went without incident, and she bid Walter goodnight as she headed up to the room he had lent her for the night, Eod happily following her.
“Nice man. Food!” Eod “said” to her, blissfully unaware of their near brush with disaster. Or at least chaos.
“He’s a very nice man, you’re right.” She walked into the room and shut the door behind her, throwing the latch. Eod wasted no time in jumping onto the bed, turning around a few times, and flopping down with a heavy contented sigh.
Stripping off her dress until she was just in her shift, she climbed into bed under the heavy comforter, happily sinking into the soft mattress. It’d been a long time since she worked a day on her feet, and she had that ache that came after a trip to the gym.
Rolling onto her back, she thought over what she could do to thank Walter. Her fire power wasn’t going to do anything that wasn’t disastrous. And he had his fair share of metal knives. Then, it occurred to her. If she could summon iron and fire—why not try other elements?
She’d have to be careful not to blow the place up. She’d have to focus.
Holding her hand up, she closed her fingers into a fist and, shutting her eyes, imagined what it would feel like to hold a gold coin in her palm. She imagined the ridges of the carved face and back, the weight of it, the chill of the metal.
It took a few moments of focus.
But then it was there. No longer her imagination, but real. Opening her eyes, she held up the coin and watched the moonlight glint off its surface through the window. Laughing quietly, she turned it over. “Fire, iron, and gold. I wonder what else I can do?”
“Magic,” Eod reminded her, clearly trying to be helpful.
Placing the gold coin on the dresser, she snuggled into the pillow and fell asleep with a smile on her face. She didn’t know if a single gold piece covered the cost of the room—but she figured it couldn’t hurt.
For the first time in a long time, she was too tired to dream, and her night went undisturbed by visitors. And her aching body was grateful for it.
Even if she did miss the chance to see Mordred.
Mordred sat atop his iron horse. His army was once more on the move. It felt odd, the strange presence embedded in his chest—the crystal shard that now could end his life, should Zoe feel so inclined.
It was a risk. A terrible risk. But one he had no choice but to gamble upon.
At least he could take solace in the company of Gwendolyn in his dreams. At least he could hold her, and tell her how much he loved her, and beg every night for forgiveness for having sent her away. It was not the same as holding her in the real world and was indeed a pale shadow of what could have been. But in an empty home, a ghost was welcome company.
He would, quite simply, take what he could get. And be happy with it.
The regular plod of his horse and the sound of the army behind him set a familiar tempo to his thoughts. A scheme had been set with Zoe—an engineered confrontation between Mordred and the Gossamer Lady. It would leave him weakened, hopefully enough for Grinn to come from the shadows and show himself.
Unfortunately, the plot was predicated on a few variables that he could not control. The first was quite simply alerting Grinn to his vulnerable state. If the demon was not watching him carefully, there was no point to the misadventure. But if Mordred knew his opponent at all, he knew the demon was keeping a close eye on Mordred’s army and their movements.
