Zorvut glanced back over at him with a softer expression, clearly sensing his upheaval. “Have you ever been this far from the castle before?” he asked. Wordlessly, Taegan shook his head—it seemed silly, but the question only made his heart squeeze painfully again. Zorvut pulled back on the reins so he stopped, and Taegan did the same so they stood side by side on the road. Gingerly, Zorvut reached out and clasped his hand.
“I’m sorry I made you worry,” he said. “I know you’re homesick. Hopefully we’ll be heading back before you know it.”
Taegan blinked—he had not recognized it until Zorvut said it, but hewashomesick. The realization felt embarrassing, and somehow sad. He glanced away, pressing a hand to his eyes that suddenly burned with tears.
“Taegan,” he heard Zorvut say softly, touching his shoulder.
“Sorry,” he blurted out, looking back up at his husband. He could still feel his eyes stinging, but he kept them dry through sheer force of will. He wouldn’t cry over something so trivial. “I just... I really think I’ll feel better after a bath.”
Zorvut paused, surprised, then let out a soft sigh with a knowing half-smile and released his shoulder.
“Let’s get a move on, then. Maybe we can reach the inn sooner tomorrow if we’re fast.”
With some effort, they made decent time and the little roadside inn came into view well before sunset the next day. It was a simple, two-story wood building with a stable on the opposite side of the trail, and the trees had been cleared out around them but became more dense in the distance. The sight of it made Taegan feel equal parts relieved and nervous—grateful to be off the road even for just one night, but anxious that they might be recognized or worse, now that they would be in the presence of others.
“Don’t be afraid,” Zorvut said in a quiet murmur as they approached the stables. Taegan nodded, but before he could respond a stable boy came jogging up to them, a human probably no older than fourteen. His eyes were wide as he approached, but Taegan could see his gaze was locked on Graksh’t, clearly in awe of his size.
“Sirs,” he said, pulling his attention away from the massive stallion to nod politely at each of them. “I can take your horses from here.”
“Certainly,” Taegan said, dismounting and handing the boy Ember’s reins. Zorvut glanced between the boy and Graksh’t, then said,
“I’ll help. He can be nervous around strangers.” The boy shrank back from the horse at that, but nodded and waved for Zorvut to follow him to the stable. The half-orc peered back at Taegan; the thought ofwaitrang through his head clear as day, and he bowed his head in agreement.
From what he could see, the inn seemed quiet, but not totally empty. There were a few other sets of hoof prints to and from the stable that seemed relatively fresh, and he could faintly hear music coming from the inn across the road. That was probably the best he could hope for, he told himself—better than a bustling, busy tavern where anyone could recognize them, but some place totally abandoned could have its own downsides. Better to just be two of a handful of faces rather than the only patrons for the day, guaranteed to stick in the innkeeper’s memory.
Zorvut rejoined him shortly, stretching his arms as he strode out from the stable. He met Taegan’s gaze and flashed him a quick smile, and they walked together to the doors of the inn. The entrance led to an open dining area with a long bar on the opposite wall with two humans, a man and a woman, working behind it. The woman called out to them cheerfully in greeting as they entered. In the far corner to their left, a dwarf perched on a stool, strumming a lute and singing. He looked to be older, with gray hair and a long, salt-and-pepper beard, but wore a coat that was an ostentatious shade of purple. Taegan tried not to stare—he had never seen a dwarf in the flesh before, as they were quite insular and rarely left their homeland of Robruolor far across the eastern seas. But the dwarf paid them no mind, continuing his song. Other than the musician, Taegan saw only one patron in the dining hall at the moment, a human man dressed in leathers and furs who glanced up at them as they entered, then back down at his table where he appeared to be fletching an arrow.
“Welcome, welcome,” the woman from behind the bar called out to them. “Rooms for the evening?”
“Just one room, please,” Taegan said as they approached, and the woman nodded, pulling up a ledger and a charcoal pencil.
“One room, two beds, then,” she said, glancing through the parchment. Taegan glanced over his shoulder at Zorvut, who shrugged nonchalantly. But the trickle of amusement that came through their bond made him suppress a grin.
“Separate beds,” he agreed, hoping his bemused tone was not as obvious to the woman as it seemed to him. “And if you have baths available...”
“Of course!” the woman agreed. “Let me just get your names, and I can have a bath drawn for you now if you’d like.”
Taegan blinked. How had they not decided on fake names yet? He could feel a spike of anxiety from Zorvut as well, so he forced himself to open his mouth before their sudden silence became suspicious.
“You can put it under the name Alain,” he blurted.
“Very well then, Alain,” the woman said, and Taegan regretted the choice immediately, the sound of his father’s name sending a dull ache through him like prodding a scar. “I’ll go have a bath prepared for you now. You’re in room eleven, which is upstairs at the end of the hall on the left. The bathrooms are down here on the first floor. I’ll come get you when the bath is ready. Anything you need in the meantime, you can just ask my husband here, Danyel. I’m Nessie, if you need me.”
“Thank you, Nessie,” Taegan said, giving a terse nod. She grinned back and left the bar, leaving behind her husband, who gave them a polite acknowledgment although his expression was much more bored. He could feel Zorvut watching him, but kept his gaze on the human barkeeper.
“Something to drink?” the man, Danyel, asked, noticing his stare.
“Wine for me, whatever is your best,” he replied, then gestured toward Zorvut. “And whatever he’d like as well.”
Zorvut paused, then came to Taegan’s side to sit next to him. “Just ale for me, please,” he replied, and the man nodded, bending down to retrieve the bottles. He felt Zorvut’s hand underneath the bar gently squeeze his knee, and he gave the hand a few soft pats before lifting both his elbows to rest on the bar top. After a moment, Zorvut’s hand pulled away as well.
Danyel presented them with their drinks, and Taegan gave him a few coins, waving away the change. He took a sip of the wine, and nearly spat it out immediately with how sour it was. If this was truly their finest option, he couldn’t even imagine their common drink. It had no depth of flavor and may as well have been vinegar; he forced himself to swallow, coughing and clearing his throat afterward, before primly pushing the goblet across the bar. Next to him, Zorvut was stifling a chuckle.
“Not what you’re used to?” he murmured, grinning down at him. Taegan huffed, glancing away.
“No, it’s not,” he said. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the other patrons seemed to pay them no mind, and the human simply shrugged and took the goblet away, replacing it with a cup of cool water. Taegan took a hesitant sip from that; it tasted like common well water, but it would do.
Zorvut downed his own ale effortlessly, then placed a hand on Taegan’s shoulder.
