My hood is on, and I’m keeping my head down, in case someone recognizes me. I didn’t see any posters with my face on them as we walked in, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some in the nearby town.
We are standing at the bar at the back where a balding, rotund man had been wiping down cups and barking orders at the woman until Gabriel had leaned over the counter, clearing his throat to get his attention.
I had been tired when we arrived, but now I’m wide awake.
“There’s a specialty market in town for the week, and our rooms are full, save one.” The innkeeper continues speaking, but his words sound muffled and far away.
This can’t be normal, right? What kind of inn only has one room available? Isn’t supplying weary travelers such as us with a place to rest our heads a cornerstone of their business plan?
Gabriel rolls up his sleeves, resting his forearms on the counter as he leans forward and says something else to the innkeeper. He flexes his fingers, the muscles in his forearm rippling, and...
What is wrong with me? This isn’t the moment to admire the Hunter, no matter how good he looks.
“Fine.” Thank the suns, Gabriel’s low timbre snaps me out of my forearm-induced haze before I can do something incredibly embarrassing, like touch his muscles to see if they’re as hard as they look. “We’ll take it.”
Then his words register.
“Wait, really?” My eyes fling to the innkeeper, and I barely remember to keep my head down so he can’t see my incriminating Mark. “You’re truly out of rooms?”
The innkeeper rubs his temples.
“Esyn save me from these customers,” he mutters. I don’t think I was supposed to hear that, because when he continues, his voice is much louder. “No, miss. As I told your companion, you can either share a room or go sleep in the stables. Those are your only options. Fucking decide and let me get back to work.”
My mouth opens, and I’m about to offer to take my chances with the horses, when Gabriel’s hand clamps around my wrist. His touch is warm, and tingles race through me from the point of contact. I close my mouth, words promptly forgotten.
“Thank you, sir.” The Hunter slides a few coins across the bar in exchange for a small brass key. “The room will be... fine.”
No, it won’t be. Sharing a horse with Gabriel has been one thing—it’s been necessary—but this feels different. Closer, somehow. I don’t say that, though, because my mouth seems to have stopped working. The objection gets stuck in my throat.
Behind us, one of the remaining patrons starts performing a rather interesting drunken rendition ofThe Suns’ Blessings.The hymn, meant to honor Mareeth and Nilam, is being sung off-key at the top of the patron’s lungs.
The innkeeper shakes his head, cursing as he throws his towel on the counter and stomps towards the impromptu singer. “Enough, Ylias.”
Gabriel’s hold around my wrist doesn’t let up as he scoops up our bag with his free hand and tugs me towards the rickety stairs.
The rowdy man belts:
“Mareeth will light your path,
Nilam will guide your way.
Stray not from the right,
Move not from their light.
Bright, bright, bright are the golden suns!”
The last line is a drunken yell, and I’m fairly certain those aren’t the right words, but there is something to be said about the performer’s enthusiasm.
The lower level disappears while the innkeeper shouts at the singer. I’m chuckling to myself as Gabriel leads me to a door halfway down the hall.
“This is us.” He stops in front of a door marked with a four.
Us.
Such a peculiar word. Two letters, yet it carries so much weight. Especially when the Hunter uses it to include me.
The drunk starts singing again, this tune much bawdier in nature. When he compares a woman’s bosom to a pair of melons, another chuckle slips from my mouth, and I sag against the doorframe.
