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Jace knew she didn’t like to be touched, he just didn’t know the why of it. Oh, he’d asked, but she played it off as just something that made her uncomfortable.
Finally, he stopped asking and respected her boundaries ever since. To say she was cursed would cause more issues than was worth it.
“I can’t...” Her words stuck in her throat as tears came to her eyes and embarrassment overwhelmed her.
“Let’s just go back upstairs. It’s not a big deal if we don’t show up. We can play that new board game that—”
His words were cut off as something licked the side of Bryn’s face before nuzzling up against her. She found herself embracing the huge savior in fur.
“Finny,” she whispered into his fur, and took deep breaths. He smelled like he’d been romping in the horse troughs, the sun from earlier doing nothing to make him smell any better, but it was soothing her all the same.
Looking up at Jace, she clutched Finian’s fur. She wouldn’t ruin her cousin’s night. He might actually ask Sage to dance, and she would not be the reason her friends were denied that.
“I am good, Jace, but thank you,” she whispered as she stood, faltering a bit, but both man and hound were there to help.
Chin up and shoulders back, Bryn walked out onto the sandy road, looking for her few allies among the population. Sadly, Ava Stevens was hovering near Declan. Bryn knew she shouldn’t care, but it hurt to see them in the same place for the first time since that night she’d walked in on Declan and Ava kissing in his office at the Cauldron, his trading post.
Turning away, she looked for anyone else as Jace squeezed her elbow to keep her moving.
“Go find Sage,” she whispered to him as her eyes found the woman in question walking along the road, saying hello to the women she’d cared for during labor.
“Not until I have you settled somewhere.”
His tone allowed no argument.
Niamh wasn’t out yet, the inn she ran was dark, and Bryn sent out a plea to her imaginary deity that Niamh would be here tonight. She was the only person the town shunned as much as they did Bryn.
It never bothered Niamh, though, as most people feared her abundance of confidence and backhanded compliments enough that the torment by the townspeople lessened when in proximity to her, making Niamh a safe place. Bryn would naturally still be friends with the woman, but it was a definite perk of the friendship. Plus, the inn had been a reprieve from her home life on many occasions.
Everyone in town knew there was no need for an inn when they never had anyone visit. It was a brothel, plain and simple, and as sinful as it was considered to be, no one had ever managed to shut it down.
In fact, Niamh called the place the Sanctuary to spite the church when speaking of her business.
How they hadn’t kicked in her door and burned down the building already, Bryn did not know.
In fact, when Bryn had asked why they didn’t find a way to close the inn’s door for good, knowing what it was and it being such a religious town, she had earned one of Niamh’s sardonic smiles.
“Because there are people at the top who gasp at the sight of my business yet utilize it themselves from their shadowy corners of the night.”
So, while the old redbrick-and-wood building stood with the name “Saints’ Inn,” everyone knew it was a saloon and brothel and called it by the name Niamh had picked. That was aside from her aunt and the most devout of Ifreann.
The glasses etched with the name “The Sanctuary” were a solitary reminder that even though the church tried to conform the business, they were not as powerful as they pretended to be when it came to Niamh.
If they were meeting with Niamh, they would be meeting at the Sanctuary, not Saints’ Inn.
Caden, one of Jace’s school friends and the bartender at the Sanctuary, was moving through the crowd with nonalcoholic drinks.
The man would have been a rogue back in the day. His dark hair, soulful eyes, blinding white smile, and good nature made him popular with the ladies in town.
Bryn watched as he served outside the bar he normally tended, bantering with the people milling about and letting his infectious laugh catch through the crowd he spoke with. The people of the town were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
She adored the barkeep, him being one of the few she could say hello to and not earn a scathing look, but she wasn’t a close enough friend to stick to him for the evening like she would Niamh.
“You made it.” Justin walked up to them, shaking Jace’s hand and giving a nod to Bryn. Much like Jace, he was aware of her aversion to touch, just not the why of it.
There were few people she would risk a vision for, to know their death, as horrible as she thought that was to think. She couldn’t lose Jace, so he was one of the few allowed to touch her arms or face on rare occasions when she was worried about him being called out for something risky.
If a vision came, she wanted to have a chance to prevent anything from happening to him. Still, he was careful around her since she normally shied away from touch, and she usually had to force him to shake her hand to get a sense of his fate.
