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“What do you say we find a pub and fill our bellies before we leave? Nell asked, her eyes looking beyond us to the streets at the bottom of the hill.
“No. We’re leaving now,” Miles answered firmly.
“I wouldn’t mind a hot meal,” I chimed in, looking at Miles expectantly. “Before the world goes to shit. I’d like one more meal that doesn’t come from a rucksack.”
I could tell he was reverting to his usual irritated state, but I didn’t care. “We leave the second we’re done.”
? ? ?
All traces of friendly Miles were gone, replaced firmly by Lieutenant Miles. I tried not to stare at the way he awkwardly lifted his mask to shove a spoonful of rabbit stew into his mouth. Whit and Nell were either unbothered or ignoring it completely.
I was on edge, a pit in my stomach opening for a reason I couldn’t discern. For a moment, I wished we’d left when we’d planned to. The darkness of the forest may have been unnerving, but the amount of people here was even more so.
We ate silently in a corner of the pub beneath the only inn in Aera, the rough and burly patrons barely pausing to look at us. Raucous laughter shook the walls as mugs of beer clanked together, the sound of fists on tables an irritating metronome to the tension that had returned to my shoulders.
“Ten silver she ain’t the real Daughter of Katia,” a man bellowed from a table near us, his words slurring as beer sloshed over the rim of his mug. I sat a bit straighter and felt Nell and Whit do the same, Miles’ masked stare on me as we listened.
“Ten silver sheisthe Daughter of Katia,” someone answered even louder.
“Oy,” the innkeeper yelled as she polished a glass behind the bar, a ratty apron hanging over a well-fed body. “No arguin’ ’neath this roof! The Daughter o’ Katia’s returned and I won’t hear nothin’ sayin’ otherwise. ’Tis an unholy act to deny it.”
My stomach began to churn. “Nothin’ unholy!” the first man howled with a laugh and a belch, shakily standing on drunken legs. He was massive — broad shoulders and an unruly auburn beard that reached halfway down his chest, his face pock-marked and oily. “She’s the holiest person alive. Ain’t nothin’ unholy ’bout it.” He took another sip of his beer, a smile revealing angled yellow teeth. “But I’d do some unholy things to ’er.”
Miles’ knuckles went white as half the bar roared with cheers and laughter. Nell shifted uncomfortably. I did my best to keep my face straight as I took stock of the patrons. A good amount wore grim expressions, unamused by the burly man’s words.
“You don’t e’en know what she looks like, mate,” someone yelled out from across the room.
The man tipped his mug to his mouth, swallowing down the rest of his drink, the foamy liquid spilling out the sides and dripping through his beard. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and slammed the mug down on the table, a wicked smile across his face. “Don’t matter what she looks like. If they’re claimin’ she’s a Saint’s daughter, that means she’s got a Saint’s cunt!”
Miles shot to his feet, Whit behind him in an instant, their chairs clattering to the floor as the man spun to face them. Miles’ sword was pulled so quickly from its sheath I was surprised that sparks hadn’t flown.
Silence blanketed the pub. The man’s eyes roved up and down Miles’ figure, landing on the point of his sword. They were about the same height, but the man had to be twice Miles’ weight. The Lieutenant was all lean muscle and agile limbs. This man was a fucking tree trunk.
The man took slow, drunken steps toward the Lieutenant until the point of the sword dug into his unadorned leather-clad chest. My breath hitched as I surveyed the room for exits, for any escape route. I felt tension radiating from Nell beside me, the heat doing nothing to help my anxiety.
Years of de-escalating all the fights that Larka had started… That was one thing. Drunken giants were another.
“Look at this, boys,” the man growled. “We got ourselves a masked Cabillian soldier right ’ere. One of Kauvras’sheep, wi’ the mask to prove it.” The man pointed to the horns that curved around Miles’ face as his mouth turned up in a nauseating snarl. A few of the other pub patrons grumbled with low laughter.
“Back the fuck off,” Miles seethed, the authority in his voice ringing through the room.
“Gettin’ pretty up ’n’ arms ’bout the Daughter of Katia,” he slurred. “Is she one of these fine ladies ’ere? ’Ave we been blessed with ’er holy presence?”
With the sword still pointed against his chest, the man turned his attention toward me. I froze under his stare, the sword at my hip begging to be pulled but my dismal skill level demanding I didn’t. A low buzz of fury took shape in my chest, the heat beginning to build.
This was about to be very, very bad.
“Bit plain of a pair for either to be a Saints’ daughter,” he remarked, a half smile revealing his yellow teeth.
And then Miles did something I never would have guessed he’d do — he turned to me. With the tip of his sword still against the large man’s chest, he turned to me.
My eyes narrowed on him momentarily as I realized he was waiting forme, for my command. I thought the pub had been still before, but an even deeper stillness creeped across the room as the patrons watched the exchange.
It hit me cold and hard — I could tell Miles to kill this man and he would, without question. I could tell him to back off and he would, without question. I’d experienced a flood of power in the Taithan throne room when I realized the truth of my bloodline, but I’d never in my life had power likethis.
My eyes left the Lieutenant and landed on the bearded man. I could see confusion cross his pock-marked face as he realized that Miles was waiting on my command. I saw his mind begin to turn in on itself as it flipped through the reasons a masked Cabillian soldier would be taking orders from a woman.
The man clenched his jaw and snorted out a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes, his shoulders straightening. “You gonna have ’im, kill me, sweetheart?” He sucked his teeth, his eyes roving over my body, lingering too long. “Go ahead, give the order.”
