The captain looked between us, his men, and Eilenora. He sucked his teeth and then called out over his shoulder.
“Men, don’t get too comfy. We’re moving.”
Eilenora’s eyes widened in alarm. “What! Why?”
The captain shrugged. “Trailfinder said there’s better food across the way. We’re soldiers, we go where our bellies will be fuller for half the price.” He gave her a short dip of his head. “Ma’am.”
In a move I would never have anticipated, I watched them pack up their gear and walk out. The sight of her fury as we left would keep me warm for many a cold night to come.
I was practically skipping as we crossed the mushy streets.
Chapter 4
My good moodleft me when the innkeeper at the Hog’s Head told us we all needed to bunk in threes if we all wanted a room. It was up to us how we shared the beds.
That last comment was for my benefit. He wasn’t being snide. He was actually concerned. I was a woman in a group of men after all, and I was known here.
“It’s okay, Mapkim,” I assured him. “I’ll take a stall and bed with the horses.”
No one liked that idea. Someone mentioned more than once that I was “prone to leaving.” In the end, two of the soldiers decided they’d sleep in the barn, and my new companion, Baxley, and I were to bunk together.
“Why him?” I asked the captain sullenly as we followed Mapkim to the upper level, where the rooms were.
“He volunteered.”
I glared at Baxley over my shoulder, and he winked in reply.
Prick.
They assigned me the room farthest from the stairs, and when I looked inside, there was no way I could escape through that window without alerting Baxley. Still, the room was cramped, and although there were two beds, they were too smallfor anyone over six feet. I grinned as I sat down, leaned back against the wall, and let my feet dangle off the floor.
“Ooh, roomy.”
The captain mentioned something about meeting downstairs for supper, but my attention was on the large male currently looking at his sleeping quarters with no more humor in his gaze.
I’d pushed my hood back and was unwrapping the face covering from my neck. There was a basin and a jug in the corner of the room, and I was eager to wash off the grime and dirt.
“How will you wash?” I asked as he dropped his pack on the bed.
“With my hands.”
I gave him a flat look. “While you carry out your morning and evening ablutions, I’ll step outside.”
“No need. I’ll take care of them elsewhere.”
I waited for more information or the offer of the same courtesy — that he would step out of the room so I could be alone during mine — but he said nothing and just pulled off his cloak.
The number of weapons on his body was honestly frightening. He was solidly built, muscles rippled beneath his tunic, and I noticed dark tattoos on the backs of his hands as he removed his woolen gloves. He pushed back the sleeves of his shirt, revealing more tattoos that wound around his arms in a pattern I couldn’t understand.
“Never seen tattoos before?” he asked gruffly.
“Not many,” I told him truthfully. “There aren’t many times bare skin is displayed in this country.”
He smiled but didn’t carry the conversation on or tell me what they meant.
“Do they have a purpose?” I was too curious to stay silent.
“Yup.”
