Sorcha and I exchanged quick, panicked looks. But my skin did not come ablaze, and Tanner, peering through the netting of a window to the path outside, had not noticed the sudden roar of the hearth behind him. I inhaled, breath searing my lungs just a touch but coaxing my anxious magic down all the same. The voices outside had lowered to an irate hiss, weaving back and forth over one another like bees in a hive.
Tanner turned from the window and hobbled back to hisseat. While I was not-quite asleep, his pint had somehow been replaced with a fresh one, full to the brim and fogged with condensation.
“There’s a pair of young’uns out there, a man and a woman,” he said, jabbing a calloused thumb at the window. “Few bags between them.”
Sorcha grabbed my arm and squealed.
“They’re here for a room!”
A room.
Gods knew we could do with renting a room. I perked at the thought, the adrenaline that had lit my Flame changing course to clear the cobwebs from my aching head as I spun on the spot to take a quick catalogue. Sorcha’s idle tidying had done wonders for the tired old tavern; it was clean and warm, lanterns scattering glided light into the high wooden rafters and bright handwoven rugs softening the cold flagstone. The hearth was now crackling merrily thanks to the burst of magic from my waking panic.
Little though it mattered, I twisted to catch a glimpse of myself in the stained and age-warped mirror behind the rows of bottles – and grimaced.
Stained and age-warpedwas a fair assessment, with dark circles beneath dark eyes piling on a few extra decades. Nothing that could be helped on this side of a good night’s sleep and a dress that wasn’t misted with stale alcohol, but I reached beneath the bar for my pot of lipstain all the same. It was the one Sorcha had mixed for me and proudly dubbedRavage Me Raspberry. She caught my eye with a grin, watching me slick on a quick coat and tuck loose golden wisps beneath my kerchief.
“Beautiful as ever,” she said sweetly.
I shot her a wink, then turned to the door and waited.
And waited. A moment passed. Another.
I frowned.
“What in the world are they doing out there?”
Tanner scoffed into his pint. “Bickering, from the sounds of it.”
The door finally swung open, and Sorcha and I tensed in unison. The man framed on the threshold was tall and broad, the handle of a lute jutting over one wide shoulder, strapped to his back beneath a thick but slightly threadbare cloak. Two large leather packs hung off his elbow, his thick bicep straining under their weight. With his free hand, he reached up to hold the door open, so that the woman behind him had little choice but to duck under his arm and squeeze past his broad, hulking body. She paused midway to glare up at him, and he smirked as though he’d been waiting for it.
“Icanmanage to open a bloody door, you know.”
“Just like youcanmanage to carry your own pack?
She scowled, but her expression stuttered as he leaned over and brought their lips close enough to share breath.
“Admit it, little lark. You might not need me to look after you, but you sure as hell like it when I do.”
Oh my.
Tanner, Sorcha and I swapped glances, the old man’s bushy brows disappearing into his bushier hair, and my cousin’s wide blue eyes rounding to comical proportions. I had to bite down on my lip to keep the awkward laughter from spilling out – not that the pair in the doorway would have noticed.
Neither of them moved; just stood there, little gusts of snow swirling around their legs, locked in the most intense eye contact I had ever witnessed. It was almost obscene. For a moment I swore I could see sparks showering off the two of them like embers, and their breath came so heavily I could see the rise and fall of their too-close chests from across the room. The three of us exchanged another glance, Sorcha pressing a hand to one cheek to cool a slight blush.
I leaned over the bar to catch their attention with a slightly brisk; “Hello.”
Nothing but more blistering eye contact.
“Will’ya close the bloody door,” Tanner called, impish and with all the subtlety of an axe. “You’re letting all the heat out!”
“Tanner!” Sorcha hissed.
I grabbed the nearest tea towel and flicked it at him, but the woman in the doorway had finally jolted away from her companion’s sultry stare and was blinking around like she’d just noticed us. Sorcha offered an encouraging wave, and she stumbled further into the tavern with a vague, dazed nod in our direction. The man did not take his eyes from her as he shut the door. He watched her move toward us, still smirking at her back, his eyes drifting down like he could somehow see the sway of her hips through her thick winter cloak.
“Welcome toThe Mage and Rose,” I said, smiling my warmest smile as she drew even with us. “I’m Rosaleen. How can I help?”
“I was - erm -”
