Page 116 of Winter Gods & Serpents

Ugh. I turned to him, the thing that annoyed me the most was being catcalled. “Your face must turn a few stomachs, turned mine, shame for that repulsiveness.”

Kilian snorted his drink and erupted in a loud cough.

The man’s smile soured down and stood in anger, but Kilian dropped his goblet down loudly on the table turning to him in a threatening glare even I startled from.

“Leave that one,” another man said calming the air, and leaning forward. “I know how to please a woman.”

“Please,” I enunciated, irked at the thought. “Leave me alone.”

Kilian spat his drink and coughed once again.

I turned annoyed at him. “Darling, it’s supposed to go down your throat not up your nose.”

He raised his eyes to me, silently flickering with something I could not understand. “So I have heard,” he said darkly, wiping his face.

The barmaid laid the food down on our table, a smile of excitement swept my face, and I rubbed my palms together preparing for the feast.

“Nairi ma,” I offered my thanks in Kemeri.

A smile rose in her face. “You are welcome, pumpkin. It is nice to hear an Isjordian recognize what these lands are.”

“It is nice to know these lands have not forgotten what they are, winter can frost that into you.”

“We try,” she said in a smile, rubbing her apron. “But our young forget, and if they don’t, they are made to.”

I recognized that pain—too well. Her home too was filled with invaders and foreigners who soiled and spat over tradition of her own, like the whole lot did to Myrdur.

“This pretty face your lover?” she asked Kilian, while refilling our drinks.

“That pretty face wants me dead,” he admitted.

She laughed patting his back. “There is always quarrel in love. Nothing that can’t be worked around in the bedroom.”

“I am afraid it would create more issue there,” I said to her and she frowned glancing at both of us.

Kilian had narrowed his eyes on me, observant as if expecting the worst to come out of my mouth.

“How so pumpkin?”

“He can’t really get it up for me.”

His eyes drew shut in annoyance as he calmly called my name a second time today, “Snowlin.”

“I am sorry,” the barmaid offered, looking at him in pity. “You poor soul, gods bless both your hearts.”

I barely held my laugh. “So am I.” Mockingly I pouted turning to him.

“You can laugh now,” he said after the barmaid left.

My lips drew in a smile, then to a grin and gradually I began shaking in laughter.

“Dahaara,” he murmured, shaking his head.

“What does that mean, you called me that the other day too.”

“Should have learnt Darsan,” he said, giving me a teasing look. “Maybe it would have helped me get it up for you in the bedroom.”

I snorted, spitting my drink forward. My nose burned at the liquid I had inhaled.