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“Your glare is still reliable at least,” I said sweetly. “Shall I fetch the luggage, Sir Draven?”
I was taken aback when he nodded. “If you don’t mind.”
“What are the rules?” I asked curiously. “The ones that woman mentioned.”
“Oh, no weapons, no brawling, no loud noises. That sort of thing.” He walked slowly down a red carpet lined hallway until he reached a door with a small white circular stone embedded in its center. “Here we are.”
The room was surprisingly spacious, with high ceilings–though not quite as high as the ones in the lobby–plush carpets, and extravagant gold and silver wallpaper. In the center of the room was a large four-poster bed made of dark mahogany covered with white linens and fluffy pillows.
The room was situated in a corner of the hotel. Three tall windows ran along one wall, while opposite the bed a large bay window overlooked the street below.
Subtle signs indicated this was not a typical inn for travelers. The lock on the door was heavy and reinforced. The windows were bolted shut. Even the bed frame had been bolted to the floor. I wondered at that. Perhaps I had mistaken the tone of the place and it was not actually criminal but rather... Something else. Was this where a woman had asked Draven to be gagged, I suddenly wondered, and then felt a red heat sweep across my cheeks.
I went back down the stairs slowly, trying not to think any other disturbing thoughts. In a village that seemed to be mostly populated by thieves and rogues, I wondered about the safety of our horses and our other possessions. But the inn did not seem to possess a stable, so the horses would have to stay where they were.
I eyed Draven’s crossbow and the leather weapons’ kit he always kept strapped to his horse. My own bow was stowed on the pack horse, out of sight. Ever since the incident with Whitehorn, I kept a small dagger on me at all times–either strapped to my thigh or tucked into a boot.
But Draven had claimed weapons were not allowed in the hotel. I decided I would risk the dagger, but not the crossbow or other items.
Carrying the bow and leather bag into the hotel lobby, Laverna glanced up.
“Weapons in the cabinet over there.” She pointed to her left. “The horses will be safe outside. No one troubles the Noble Knight. Not unless they want serious trouble from us in return.”
I nodded and stowed the weapons, then hoisted our luggage over my shoulders.
When I entered the room with our bags, Draven was already sprawled out on the only bed, still fully clothed.
I crossed over to him and let out a curse. It must have taken all he’d had left just to walk up the stairs. He’d pushed himself too hard and now was looking worse than ever.
His face was flushed, and when I put a hand to his cheek the heat emanating from it shocked me.
I dropped our bags by the wall, and walked over to a basin of clean water that had been left behind a painted reed screen to wash my hands and face.
Then I went back to Draven, unbuttoned the brown leather vest he wore over top of his tunic, pushed it aside, and began to tug his shirt up.
Lifting it over his stomach was no problem. It was when I reached the wound itself that the tunic began to stick. The wound must have been pussing and bleeding all day as we rode. Now it was glued to his skin. If I kept pulling, it would be painful. Not to mention I’d take some of his skin with it.
I went back to the basin and wet a clean cloth, then gently soaked the shirt until I was able to peel it off.
As I lifted it, I let out a hiss of revulsion. The smell was worse today. The wound looked even redder, if that were possible. The flesh around the wound reminded me of a melted candle.
How could a healer possibly fix this?
The best in Cerunnos, Draven had said. I gritted my teeth and marched to the door of the room.
Downstairs, Laverna was still at the front desk.
“When will the healer be back?” I asked directly, walking up to her.
She lifted her head from a piece of paper she had been reading from, and I realized she leaned much more towards beautiful than handsome. The red silk dress she wore hugged her curves in all the right places, plunging low at the neckline and revealing ample cleavage and glowing ivory skin.
I was suddenly conscious of my sweat-soaked clothes, my dusty boots, and my tangled hair. The runes on my arms might be a small claim to beauty with their silvery glimmer, but I had decided they would only draw unwanted attention and so had been careful to wear a long-sleeved tunic and a cloak overtop.
“Soon.” She gazed back at me, her eyes clever and curious. “Where are you traveling to? I haven’t seen Kairos Draven in these parts in a long time.”
“Yes, well, he’s been busy,” I said lamely, praying she wouldn’t ask more questions. “Is the healer nearby? Perhaps I could go and fetch them myself.”
“His wound is as bad as that, is it?” She leaned forward, her slender arms pressing against the counter, her expression more interested than empathetic. “I could smell the taint even from here.”
