“Right, yeah, of course,” I say, nodding stiffly.
“Shall we?” He asks with a tilt of his head towards the town.
Excitement races through me, washing away the unease. “Yes,please.”
We’re quick to re-mount Puck and make our way down the hill. The second we cross into town, the quiet of our travels the last few days falls away, replaced by the hustle and bustle of a typical village. Just one that’s a bit more spread out because of the canals bisecting the place. At this time of day it’s easy to pick up on those rushing home to their families for the evening meal. Or gathering in taverns with friends and drinking away the stress of the day.
Now that we’re up close, I can see the yellowing lines at various points up the sides of the walls from where the floodwaters must have reached. I didn’t notice it from our point on the hill, but some of the buildings closest to the canal edges are built up on a foundation with legs almost as if they’re sitting on a hilariously oversized table. Bastian called them stilts when I pointed them out to him. It’s rather innovative for them to lift the buildings in that way so the rising water flows underneath.
The inn we’re staying in for the evening is one of those buildings built up on stilts. There’s a stone staircase built into the side of the stilts leading up to what I assume is the front entrance. The bright sign above the door is once again written in the Fae language so I can’t make it out.
“The Deepwater Inn,” Bastian says, taking note of my narrowed eyes.
I huff a laugh. “Fitting name.”
Pushing through the front door, The Deepwater Inn looks much the same as the other inns and taverns we’ve stumbled into over the last week. There’s a bar set up to one side while a mish mash of chairs and tables are scattered around the diningroom. Nothing matches one cohesive theme, and yet, somehow it works.
The dining room is relatively full, in fact it’s the fullest any of the taverns have been. There’s the clinking of dishes, bursts of boisterous laughter, raised voices as a table debates the outcome of a card game. I do my best not to stare at any of the patrons for too long. I keep my eyes lowered as I let them scan across the room. I know that I no longer appear human, but it still feels a bit like I’m crawling out of my skin standing in a room full of Fae.
It takes me too long to register the low, rumbling voice of Bastian as he speaks with the innkeeper for a room.
“Two rooms, please.”
Orroomsit seems.
I sidle up closer into his side and nudge him with my elbow. He jerks his head in my direction and raises an eyebrow in silent question.
“You do realize we’ve shared rooms and a bed before, right?” I raise my eyebrow, mirroring his own expression. “What’s the point in shelling out the extra coin for a second room when we’re both adults and can handle sharing a room for another night. Or is there something I’m missing here?”
His brows furrow as he thinks through my proposal. After a moment of staring at my face in what I assume is his way of sussing out the seriousness of my offer.
Eventually he gives a sharp nod and returns his attention to the innkeeper. “My mistake, one room should do.”
“We don’t have a room available with two beds,” the innkeeper replies. Bastian directs his attention to me with a challenge in his eyes. This is his last-ditch test to see if I actually meant what I said.
“That’s fine,” I respond without hesitation, and I swear I see something flash through Bastian’s eyes, there and gone in the blink of an eye.
After exchanging coins for the key, we find ourselves standing in the middle of a basic room, but it still has a warmth and coziness to it. There’s a plush rug in the center of the room and a bed that juts out from the center of the far wall.
“Are we going to send for food or should we go downstairs?” I ask as I drop the saddlebag in the far corner, my stomach loudly exclaiming its desire for sustenance.
“I actually have something better in mind,” Bastian answers with a smirk.
