Page 29 of On a Barbarian World

The woman shot Aurina a mutinous look. “My apologies.”

Aurina barely refrained from rolling her eyes at one of the most insincere apologies she’d ever received. Instead, she nodded.

The woman’s gaze widened. “Does she not speak?”

Aurina released a breath. “I speak just fine. I just don’t have much to say to you. You’re a stranger, and you’re being rude to me for your own reasons, which really have nothing to do with me. And I think they might be having the opposite effect to what you’d intended.” She nodded her head toward Kavon’s set face.

The woman glanced at Kavon and blanched. She turned and melded back into the hall.

More servers bustled over, clearing empty plates and setting new ones down. Aurina didn’t miss how the female servers brushed past Kavon to ensure he got perfect views of their cleavage as they leaned over. This time, she couldn’t help it—she rolled her eyes.

Finally, he ordered them all to leave, and they flitted away.

“Does everyone obey your orders?”

“Yes.”

She leaned in. “I won’t.”

“I’m coming to understand that.” He pushed a bowl filled with some creamy white substance toward her. “Try this now.”

“I’m pretty full.”

“You’ll like it.”

She took a spoonful and groaned again. “Oh, that is good.” She savored the creamy, spicy flavor. She looked up, and again people were staring at them with wide-eyes. “Why is everyone looking at us like we just danced on the table naked?”

He shot her a small smile. “It is nothing.” He waved a hand at a man with a large jug hovering nearby. The man hurried forward and filled their glasses. “Ale?”

“I’m more an Interstellar martini girl, myself.” She shrugged and took the ceramic mug. “But, when on a barbarian world…” She took a large sip.

The ale packed a punch. It was somehow fruity and spicy at once, and warmed her belly. Whoa, she’d have to be careful not to have too much. But, damn, it was nice to just relax a little. It had been a hell of a few days.

Kavon kept pushing small delicacies her way. After a few more sips of ale, tiredness started to drag on her. She smothered a yawn.

He stood, his giant chair scraping on the stone floor. “You are tired.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’ll rest now.”

She let out a breath. “Ask, barbarian.”

He leaned down, that rugged face of his close. “When it comes to your care and safety, I will not ask. I will do what is best for you.”

His big body was so close and it was adding to the warmth already generated by the ale. “And you think you know what is best for me?”

“I am a warlord.”

“That’s not an answer,” she said on an annoyed hiss. “I know what’s best for me.”

“Come.” He held out a hand.

She hesitated, but she’d agreed not to make any scenes in public. She slapped her hand into his.

He tugged her out of the hall, and she saw a few warriors elbowing each other as they left. She didn’t really care what they thought.

She wouldn’t be here long enough to care.