She shook her head as if to clear it, and her hair went tumbling over her shoulders in shining waves of gold just a shade darker than my own. She was barely older than Sorcha, and just as lovely. Her cheeks were smooth and plump, flushed pink with either the cold or the attentions of the man at her back. Her cloak was simple yet beautifully made, with fine spun wool and soft fur lining, held together by a delicate, swirling clasp of silver. Everything about her spoke of a life well lived, of comfort and wealth, grace and poise. We didn’t often see highborn ladies seeking shelter here. Our usual overnight clientele, when we were lucky enough to have them, were adventurers – or roamers, as I once was. The kind of people who travelled the kingdom, some greater purpose driving them through Stormsby on their way to the bustle and promise of Kingsborough.
Or Tanner and his ilk, when they’d had one scoop too many and couldn’t be trusted to ride home.
I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing here; whereshe was off to with her rugged and admittedly rough-edged travel partner.
“A room,” she said finally. Her voice, now that she’d found it, was strong and lyrical. “I would like a room, please.”
Thank the gods.
Her towering companion chose that moment to come up behind her, having dropped the bags by a table in the corner, though he’d unstrapped the lute and now cradled it carefully in one arm like a sleeping child.
The young woman stiffened noticeably at his approach, but didn’t turn. And though he offered me a brief, charming smile, when he spoke his gaze drew almost magnetically back to her face. He watched her reaction in profile with a smirk playing around his lips.
“Wewould like a room,” he said.
She scoffed, refusing to look at him.
“Weeachwould like a room of ourown.”
Two rooms.I saw Sorcha perk up from the corner of my eye, and my Flame shimmered with delight; I could almost feel the familiar warmth it cast against my heart. The first fee would cover that final instalment to repair the leak in the kitchen. Would it be irresponsible to spend the second on a winter cloak? No — a nice pair of gloves. I’d been meaning to replace the threadbare ones Sorcha had torn on a peg while hanging the washing. I did worry she’d catch her death out there, handling wet laundry without a decent pair of gloves.
I smiled at the two travellers and tried not to look too excited by their obvious distaste for one another as I gestured at Sorcha to pass me the ledger we kept beneath the bar. She heaved it onto the countertop, and when Tanner’s ale sloshed precariously he tutted at us and swiped the pint out of the way before taking a deep, possessive gulp.
“What’s the name?”
Before the young woman could answer, the man cut her offwith a jaunty little strum of his lute.
“Merry,” he said, grinning broadly.
“It’sMargaret,” she hissed back, still staring resolutely ahead. She softened to a ladylike lilt and told me; “Margaret Whitstone.”
“Ah, butMerrysuits your sunny disposition sowell.”
When she ignored him, I took her cue and began to flick through the ledger, but it seemed he wasn’t quite done.
“Be sure to find Her Highness a nice suite, now won’t you?” The man was saying – apparently determined to make her snap. My gaze flicked between them and I offered a polite, dismissive smile, but of course he remained locked on Miss Whitsone, with mischief dancing in his eyes. Mischief – and something softer. At my side, Sorcha nudged a tentative elbow into my ribs, and I nudged her back.
Yes, I told her silently.I can see.
“And she’ll need a silver spoonful of honey delivered to her door before bed,” the man grinned. “Silver,mind, not steel. Wouldn’t want to risk those prized lungs, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
She finally whirled on him, and Dagda damn me, I heard it. As much as I wished I hadn’t, I heard how her breath seized when she spun to face him and saw the way he was watching her. He was caught off guard, too slow to hide the soft look in his eye.
For all the gods sake.
These two would not be sleeping apart tonight.
The question now was how long it would take for them to realise it so I could get Tanner out of here and finally go to bed.
Miss Whitstone recovered herself and pulled her shoulders back, a sneer souring her lovely voice.
“My companion needs a room too.Mr Thomas Fox,” she said, calling over her shoulder to me. I could just make out the deep red of her cheek when she turned her head, but herwords were admirably steady. “Perhaps you have something in the stables? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind rolling around in the mud with the rest of the pigs.”
Sorcha sniggered, then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. I bit down on my rising laughter so hard I swore tasted blood.
But Mr Fox was unphased as he took a swaggering step forward, backing Miss Whitstone into the bar.
“Didn’t seem to mind rolling around in the mud with me last night.”
