“I didn’t think I took that long,” I murmured, pulling the door closed behind me.
His lips twitched as his eyes opened. “In my line of work, you take your rest where you can.”
I knew that feeling well. He locked the door, checked that it was locked, and pocketed the key before walking ahead of me. In silence, I followed him down the hall, down the narrow staircase, and into the wider serving area. He took a seat in the far corner, away from the window, with his back against the wall, giving him an unobstructed view of the room.
“That’s usually my seat,” I murmured as I sat down on the chair beside him, turning my body so I too could see everything.
“Never understood those who sat with their back to the door,” Baxley spoke quietly.
“Fools.” I agreed. “Or ones who don’t need to look over their shoulder.”
His blue eyes met mine steadily, his nod of agreement all he needed to say.
Mapkim came over with two jugs of ale. He told us the captain had bought our first one. Baxley didn’t argue, and neither did I.
Ale was ale.
I took a sip — cool, slightly flat, and thicker than water, but still refreshing.
Baxley swallowed a mouthful. “Captain may have bought the first, but he bought the cheapest,” he said with a grunt.
I looked at my jug. “It’s not good?”
His lips twisted. “It’s cheap.”
When he didn’t elaborate, I didn’t pursue it. It tasted fine to me.
I already knew my companion wasn’t much of a talker, and honestly, neither was I. We sat in silence as we watched the inn fill up. Men finished their day’s work, and traders needed to rest after a long day at the market. Soon, the soldiers who would be traveling with us came down from the rooms above, including Captain Marson.
The captain walked straight over to us. Or me. I got the impression that he was familiar with the man beside me.
With no words, he took the seat across from us. His back was to the room. I glanced at Baxley and saw his top lip curl, but he didn’t comment. Somehow, that made it funnier.
“Is your room good?” Captain Marson asked carefully.
“It’s warmer than outside, so yes,” I answered truthfully. I finished my mug. “Thanks for the drink.”
He waved it off, leaning back as the mean-eyed soldier from yesterday approached, two mugs in his hand.
He didn’t sit with his back to the room.
For a moment, it looked like he might ask me to move. I held his stare, noticing he didn’t so much as glance at Baxley. Instead, he walked around the captain and took the seat opposite.
“Your name is Amarya?” the captain asked after he’d taken a drink.
“You know my name,” I reminded him carefully, not liking this new dynamic. I preferred it when it was just me and the mercenary.
“I’m Loel Marson.” He extended his hand.
“Yesterday, I was shoved into the ground for not calling you captain, and today you want me to call you Loel?”
The captain flushed. “We have a long journey ahead, Amarya. I think we should start fresh.”
“If it’s a fresh start you want, I’ll happily leave.”
He smiled. He wasn’t handsome — quite plain in fact — but he seemed earnest. I didn’t trust earnestness, especially when it wore golden armor and went by the moniker of captain.
“This is Sergeant Gralen.”
