“No, I’m not.” I took another bite, chewing deliberately. “Because the only way that a spy would be leading a group of Lirien soldiers this far into Viori territory would be on the king’s orders. So why take Esme to Ibarra, of all places, instead of to Ederyn? And if he was that close to capturing your father, why take Esme at all? Why not just take him?”
Seren bristled. “Are you saying I’m lying?”
“I’m saying someone is lying to you.”
She paled. “Who?” She hadn’t touched her food.
“I don’t know.” I almost felt guilty for saying anything, but she had the right to know. No doubt the fact that Esme had been taken while with her weighed on her heavily. “You should eat.”
Seren rubbed her forehead, her well-crafted poise unraveling. Grief commanded her face, her eyes mournful. “How the fuck am I supposed to just eat after that?” She scowled at me, then snatched her stein. Ale trickled from the corner of her mouth as she drained it.
I frowned as she set the empty stein down, then started in on her food.
“You didn’t want to know the truth?”
“I do want to know the truth, you swiver. But you haven’t put me any closer to it.”
I didn’t answer, unsure of what to say to her. Fury continued to mount in her posture.
She ate a few more bites, then slammed her fork down on the scarred tabletop. “My father knows as much about Lirien as you do. He’d be smart enough to figure out everything you just said.”
Had her father been the one to lie, then?
“I think we’re being listened to,” I murmured, keeping my eyes on the barmaid as she made another round through the tavern. She wasn’t like the others—she was too poised, too aware of her surroundings. She wasn’t just serving drinks. She watched us, waiting for something.
Seren stiffened. “Who?”
“The barmaid.” I leaned closer to Seren. “If she’s a spy, we’ve already said too much.” I sipped my ale.
“Godsdammit.” Seren took several more bites, then pushed her bowl away. “Let’s just go.” Seren threw some money on the table, glancing once toward the barmaid. Her movements were quick, controlled, but I could see the tension in the tight set of her jaw. She didn’t trust this place, and frankly, neither did I.
I followed her across the street to the inn. “We should leave first thing in the morning. No sense in staying longer than we have to.”
“Where the hell else are we supposed to go? There’s nowhere safe for us right now.” Seren strode up the stairwell just to the left of the entrance, as though she knew exactly where she was heading. The idea of the barmaid spying on us did little to warm me to the idea of staying here overnight. If she had been spying, all she’d needed to do was look out the window to see where we’d gone.
Seren unlocked a room at the end of the hall, her shoulders rigid as if she expected an attack at any moment. She didn’t speak as we stepped inside.
The enchanted candles cast a soft, golden glow across the small room, but the warmth didn’t reach her expression. She was retreating again, shutting herself off after that brief, vulnerable moment in the tavern. I didn’t blame her—I wasn’t exactly good at this sort of thing either.
A narrow bed, barely large enough for one person, stood against the long wall of the room.
That should be interesting. The bedroll had been cozy enough. This would be torture.
But what the space lacked in size, it more than made up for with a bathtub.
While I eyed the furnishings, Seren slid her pack from her shoulders, then unfastened her sword holsters and bandoliers. She set them down on a chair, her face flushed.
Her hands trembled as she unlaced her leather vest, as though all she wanted was to rip off the restrictive material, but her shirt was still missing below it.
I crossed my arms, leaning against the door. “What’s wrong?” I asked, though I already knew.
Seren’s head snapped up, eyes blazing. “What’s wrong?” she repeated, her voice tight, trembling. “You can’t be serious. Look at my life, Rykr!” Her breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But she didn’t. She braced herself, holding it all inside like a dam ready to burst.
She unbraided her hair swiftly, shaking it loose over her shoulders.
I struggled to concentrate on her words after she’d untied her hair like that. Her dark, gold-streaked tresses cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, reaching the middle of her back. In her normal braid, she looked fierce and untouchable, but this softened her, made her more human, more fragile.
Seeing her like this reminded me of why she’d risked everything to save me. She carried burdens too heavy for her slight frame. She wasn’t weak but her strength came from a place I was still learning to understand.
