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A cider would calm my nerves and keep me distracted for a minute while I cleared my head and regrouped on my mission. Cider, herbalist, home.
Easy enough.
Standing at the bar, I watched the man running the tavern fill three mugs before his gaze shifted my way.
I flashed him a smile, which I couldn't tell if it helped or not, and he gave me a curt nod.
Drumming my fingertips on the counter I waited until he finally stood before me, just raising one eyebrow. Waiting for something.
“A cider, please?” I asked.
His sigh sounded like a bleat of a goat and I tried to keep my eyes from going wide at the two small legs he stood on. Like a satyr.
Not like a satyr, he was a satyr.
One afternoon walking through the castle outskirts and I was already exposed to more creatures than I’d dreamed possible, even after Noah had confirmed most existed in Faerie.
He set it on the counter, and not knowing anything about the coins the queen had given me, I set three down on the counter. Before I could turn away, the bartender grabbed my wrist, tugging me so quickly toward the countertop, I didn’t have time to react.
“Take one of those back at least,” he said in a hushed tone. “And don’t let anyone else see what you carry with you. That's more money than sense. Especially here when times are tough. Understand?”
I nodded furiously. “Thank you.”
He didn’t acknowledge my almost silent show of gratitude, but I did exactly what he said, pocketing one of the coins as covertly as possible before grabbing my cider and walking toward a table that had just left back in the corner.
I settled in, prepared to enjoy not having anywhere to be, when I made eye contact with a man across the bar. He sat leaning against the back wall with a scar horizontal across his cheek that marred his otherwise smooth face.
He seemed cleaner than the rest of the people who were stirring up the bar. It was far from quiet. Laugher, shouting, and music all mixed together to form a constant noise.
The man looked back down to a book he had, a vacant expression on his face.
My body shook with slight chills and I couldn’t help but think the idea of being on my own in Rosefeather was much more enticing than actually sitting in the village. Alone.
I chugged half the drink in my glass, once more seeing from the corner of my eye that the stranger with a book was looking at me.
Maybe I was recognizable to some? If he was cleaner than the rest perhaps he frequented the castle. Though most events where Noah was, I was far enough in the background with the other staff that I wouldn’t stand out.
Seeing him watching me made me chug the rest of my purchase and get up almost as quickly as I’d come in. As much fun as exploring would be, I’d prefer to do so with company.
Not knowing protocol as far as clean up, I left my glass on the bar as I walked out into the sunlight from the darkened tavern.
I shook my shoulders, straightening and turning to the left to move farther into the town. I’d yet to see anything that looked remotely close to an herbalist yet. A few stone buildings on top of each other broke out into more spread out ones, opening up alleyways in between the various homes and storefronts. While not filthy like the city I was from back home, they weren’t inviting by any means, though I did notice some small gatherings of people.
My frustration grew as I wandered farther; there wasn’t much more of the main drag, and I wondered if that meant I’d have to venture down some of the alleys.
Looming ahead a bit past the center of town was another building I recognized.
The jail.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of it as it loomed closer and closer. Besides the lake, which I wanted to venture back to at some point, this was the place responsible for me being here. It was certainly the place responsible for sending me to the palace.
Although that also gave me Noah, and as much as my stomach clenched and twisted like I’d be sick at the sight of it, it was more so a memory of the feelings I’d had rather than hatred for the jail itself.
After all, I’d been alone. Afraid. Confused. Seeing creatures that shouldn’t exist. Having a woman act as though she knew me, only to ignore me the rest of my sentencing. I often wondered about her and why on earth she’d gotten excited. Perhaps a case of mistaken identity. My features were plain enough where that could happen, I supposed.
With my sights on the jail, I almost didn’t hear the footsteps behind me.
Didn’t hear the soft, low chuckle before it was too late.
