He let out a thin huff. “Maybe not.”
“Well,” Thom began cautiously, “perhaps you should start by kissing her. She seems to want that.”
Ethenn tipped his head back, glaring up at the sky as he sucked in a long breath. His face was growing so red that he looked as though he was about to burst. “Could you not give me advice anymore?”
Thom smiled ruefully. “Just one last thing,” he said, then lifted his brow. “Do you really not know how to cuddle?”
“This conversation is over,” the young man replied tersely.
“All right.” Thom lifted his hands in surrender. “Just—if you need any pointers—”
“Shove your pointers.”
“I’d rather not.”
After several seconds of tense silence, Ethenn sighed. “I appreciate your attempt to help,” he said, each word pronounced in an achingly flat tone as though he were forcing them out.
Thom failed to hold in his laughter. “Maybe next time I’ll actually be successful.”
Ethenn sent him a coldly amused look. “There’s not going to be a next time. At least, not with this subject.”
“Because you’re going to take care of the issue tonight?” Thom asked suggestively.
“Because if Ilain comes to you again, you’re going to tell her to talk to me herself.”
“Right.” Thom smirked. “Andyou’re gonna take care of it tonight.”
A faint grin tugged at Ethenn’s lips, and he nudged his horse forward. “Right.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The day’s travel brought them to a village whose name Ethenn didn’t catch. Due to its small population, there was no need for an inn, so while the Warriors and Mages trained separately, Thom led the others (including Ilain once more) to the tavern, seeking rooms for rent. When their training was completed, Ethenn and the rest of the troop entered the village too.
After days of exhaustive work and sweating through his clothes, Ethenn wanted nothing more than an opportunity to languish in a hot tub. It was a new experience for him: bathing in hot water. In Trollenston, he often spent weeks at a time in the forest hunting, and when he returned to his family’s small cottage on the outskirts of town, his only option for bathing was water from the trough. Despite the fairly modern innovation of many houses in town being outfitted with pipes to draw the water inside, their old home had yet to see the innovation.
His sister, Terrina, often complained about the “incivility” of such primitive arrangements. But Ethenn hadn’t minded. They were happy; they were together. That was all that mattered...until it was gone.
It wasn’t until Ethenn’s commission with the Ephrian Army and his short stay in the Loclight barracks that he experienceda hot bath for himself. Ever since then, he understood Terrina’s desire for a proper bath.
Arriving in the backwater village, Ethenn began to debate his chances for a bath of any sort. Tucked within the mountains, the settlement solely survived on its mining exports. The likelihood of them having a proper bath setup (even without hot water) was slim.
Riding through the ramshackle buildings, it was easy to find the tavern. A rusty sign hung above the door, and a single oil lamp was mounted at its side, glowing yellow in the late evening. Voices thrummed from within its walls and out onto the dirt streets. There was an open stable to the side where they saw the rest of the troop’s horses tied for the night. Ethenn’s gut reaction was to distrust that the villagers wouldn’t steal their mounts, but he followed Deckard’s lead, tying his horse next to the rest. He knew he was more paranoid than the others. It came with the territory of having spent time with the rejects and refuse of Trollenston. Yet, as devout Allorians, the average Ephrian was too concerned with incurring the wrath of Allore to be dishonest. Still, he unstrapped both his saddlebags and Ilain’s, bringing them into the tavern just to be safe.
The tavern was old and in great need of repair, though not dilapidated by any standard. An aged woman with gray hair piled atop her head played a zither by the hearth, her fingers deftly sweeping across the strings. It was “Draaw’s Jig,” a lively tune he’d often heard in Trollenston’s taverns. Men and women filled the room, enjoying drinks and meals and singing along to the song.
And in the corner was a roped-off area that looked all too familiar to Ethenn. Instantly, he averted his gaze.
“Cheery place,” Brea noted.
Near the middle of the tavern, they found their companions. Rafferty was eyeing a nearby party playing cards, his foottapping merrily to the music, while Ilain picked at a clumpy-looking stew, and Vayden hummed with the patrons. Thom rose as they neared, immediately informing them that there weren’t enough rooms for all of them in the tavern.
“How many rooms are there?” Deckard asked above the din.
Thom shrugged apologetically. “Two. They said they don’t get travelers out this way often, so they’ve no need for so many spares. We can split six and four. Men and women?”
Somehow, the idea both appealed to and annoyed Ethenn. The chance to sleep away from Ilain would be a welcome reprieve, as it would also be a great disappointment.
Deckard wasn’t pleased either. “How many beds in a room?” he asked, running a hand along his jaw.
