With magic pounding in his veins, Ethenn charged. He knocked back the Hammerfist’s defense, dodged a sly punch, then threw his fist into his opponent’s jaw.
The Hammerfist spun, jaw slack, and fell face-first to the floor.
Ethenn looked straight at the barkeep. “About that room?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It turned out that the barkeep was also the tavern owner. His small home abutted the back of the building, where he lived with his wife, a sweet lady with graying black hair and crooked teeth, their two teen sons, and their three cats, Vergal, Stergal, and Clide. Clide took a particular fancy to Ilain the moment she walked into the house. The brown tabby even slipped into the bedroom before they could shut the door. It was to be expected. Cats loved Ilain.
“Sit,” Ilain ordered Ethenn, pointing to the old bed.
While he did as instructed, Ilain took quick stock of the room. Cramped, with a bed, wardrobe, vanity, and dresser—all of simple wooden make—there was hardly enough space to move around. Lorn and Nance, the tavern owner and his wife, would sleep in their sons’ room while the boys sprawled in the parlor, thanks to Ethenn’s deal. Nance was understanding and even approving once she heard the conditions. Ethenn paid more than handsomely for a straw-stuffed mattress and threadbare blankets.
Once she’d completed her inspection, Ilain sat next to Ethenn, and Clide the cat jumped onto the blue and yellow quilt at her side. Jaw tight, Ethenn kept his gaze averted even as shetook his face in her hands to examine his injuries. He’d donned one of his spare shirts, leaving it hanging loose over his trousers.
“Well,” she said tersely, “beyond the split lip, bloodied nose, extensive bruising, bloodshot left eye, and mental psychosis, nothing much seems to be the matter with you.”
Ethenn flinched as she prodded his bruised temple. “What’s a psychosis?” he asked.
A short chuckle slipped out of her. “I always forget you grew up in a small town.” She reset her hands over his injuries and then closed her eyes, preparing to summon Day. It was harder at night to find that deep connection inside of her. Most Elemental Mages wouldn’t be able to do it at all. But by Allore’s design, she’d been born stronger than any Mage since before Ephren split their countries. And she had Auden as a brother.
“It’s gentle,”Auden had taught her.“So many people think Fire and Day are similar because they’re both bright. But Fire is intense, fierce, and powerful—like you. Day is a quiet warmth, like Mum’s fresh bread or the sun on a misty morning. It calms and soothes. It gives you life.”
Reaching into her core, Ilain found the gentle part of herself. It was small, fragile, and rarely seen. She’d locked it away when she was only ten, taken from her mum and da for the Order of the Flame’s tower in Doorstunds Reach. The Fire Mages didn’t prize gentility. Being a soft woman was a fault in those halls. So she’d become strong, unyielding, and proud. And it had earned her the second-highest rank in the Order.
Ethenn gasped as the Day magic flared, easing the internal pressure surrounding his brain. When she opened her eyes, the rest of his wounds were gone, too, but his expression radiated agitation.
“I may be a town boy,” he said tightly, “but that doesn’t mean I’m uneducated.”
Ilain raised her brow. “Did I say you were?”
He turned away, but she caught his jaw in her hand and forced him to face her. “You got to say your piece before,” she said in a fierce, hushed tone. “Now, I get to say mine.”
She could feel the tension of his clenched teeth in her grip, but he gave a permissible nod.
“First,” Ilain released him and let Clide climb onto her lap, “a psychosis is a mental condition that drives people to behave in unnatural ways.”
Ethenn huffed in self-derision. “So it’s magic,” he concluded.
She smirked without humor. “Not in the slightest.”
Weaving her fingers into Clide’s soft brown fur, Ilain held Ethenn’s stare. “What did Thom tell you this morning?”
Ethenn’s jaw flexed. “To bed you.”
Ilain blew out an annoyed breath. “Well, I certainly didn’t ask for that.”
“What did you ask for?”
“A kiss,” she said quietly. “That’s all. And now, you’ve provided that, so I suppose I can accept it as enough.”
A long silence passed between them as Ilain studied his impassive expression. She was angry with him. Not because he’d stupidly let himself get beaten up for a bed or because he’d kissed her so abruptly as he sought to stir his magic for the fight. Because he was baffling.
For Ilain’s whole life, she’d dreamed of finding a Warrior like him. One who could match her in heart, power, and will. Ethenn might be young, and he might be less educated, but he was clever. He was stubborn. He was strong. And he was far more passionate than the people around him realized.
She’d seen it the first day they met. She saw it in the intensity of his deep brown stare, a stirring heating the depths of his soul. He was like a fire in a hearth: contained yet waiting to be unleashed. And she’d known then that she would have to be verycareful with her heart around this handsome young man, lest she lose herself to a man without magic.
Ilain couldn’t be with a non-magical man. She’d prepared too long and worked too hard to become the Highlady Chancellor of Doorstunds Reach. It was her responsibility. The Alliance was counting on her and her power to help guide their nation into what it should be. She had to marry a Warrior. That was that.
