I pushed open the inn door, and heat rolled over me like a blessing. The smell of oats and milk followed it, thick and comforting. I took the corner seat farthest from the hearth, the one most people avoided because it stayed cold longer. I preferred it that way. It gave me time to warm slowly. It alsogave me a clear view of the market square through the front windows and of the south gate beyond.
“You’ll be wanting two bowls?”
I lifted my head and met Sayla’s steely gaze. “Aye.”
Her harrumph was immediate and heartfelt. I smiled faintly as she turned away.
Two bowls meantfullbowls. Extra milk. She complained loudly every time, but she always did it. We never discussed her verbal resistance, or my silent expectation that I’d get it.
Balance mattered.
The bowls landed heavily on the table a moment later. I slid a copper penny across in payment and was already reaching for my spoon when a steaming mug of cocoa thudded down beside them.
I looked up, surprised.
Sayla was staring out the window, past me. “He shortchange you?”
“Aye.”
She nodded once. “Sly old crook.”
For a moment, our eyes met. “You give him anything other than a safe trail?”
I lifted the battered spoon and shrugged. “Would’ve had full payment if I had.”
“Don’t be too sure,” she muttered. Her hand rested on my shoulder — just long enough to ground me — before she pulled away. “The cocoa’s on the house.”
The shift between us was subtle, but I felt it. I glanced down at the mug, then back at her retreating form. “Why?”
She turned, that glare sharp as ever. “You not want it?”
I pulled the mug closer. “I want it.”
“Then shut up and drink it.”
That was that.
I ate slowly, letting the heat seep back into my bones while I watched the gate for newcomers. Merchants. Guards. Anyone unfamiliar. Anyone who lingered too long. Sayla moved through the inn with practiced irritation, casting sharp looks at any man whose gaze lingered on me.
She pretended it was an annoyance.
I pretended not to notice.
Balance.
Outside, the cold pressed in against the windows. Inside, the equilibrium held. I finished my meal, and outside, the snow began to fall more heavily.
Movement at the gate caught my attention. The snow and ice of my country had dulled the golden gleam of their armor, but there was no mistaking that the soldiers of Darysia, the lands of summer, had just come through the gates.
I wasn’t the only one to notice either. A hush fell over the inn, and even Sayla stopped her to-ing and fro-ing on the floorboards.
The ten soldiers moved farther into the small-town guard. I didn’t need to see the look on the face of the Watchman. He’d either be pissing his pants or screaming for his superior officer.
It was the latter. He turned and yelled so loudly that I could hear his faint call for help from where I sat.
“You in trouble?” Sayla asked me at my shoulder, making me jump as I hadn’t heard her cross the floor.
“Not this time,” I murmured, but I drained my cocoa. I slipped a silver into her hand, my eyes widening in surprise when she pressed it back into my palm.
