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“All we want is a room for the night and dinner,” Taj says loudly, breaking the spell. He’s still waving the coins around. He looks like he’s fending off a pack of wolves with the silver. “We’ve traveled far and need provisions. We won’t stay long in your town. Are we good?”
Finally, a heavily-set woman steps forward, a suspicious look on her face. “Give them here.” She takes the coins from Taj’s hands—all the coins—and hefts them in her hand, a thoughtful line creasing her brow. “The eremins look real.”
“Of course they are real,” Taj says, his grin fraying around the edges.
“Hm.” She shoves the coins into a leather purse hanging from her belt. She’s dressed in a cotton dress, but it’s the expensive kind, the hem embroidered with blue flowers, her cloak trimmed with silk, her wooden headdress glinting with copper or silver inlays.
“Are we good?” Taj asks again, stepping in front of the rest of us, hands held out to the sides. “That coin should cover everything we are asking for.”
“It’s enough for a room and dinner, and for your horses to have some hay,” she says with a toss of her head toward the inn. “If you want anything more, you’ll need to pay up.”
“Fuck,” Taj breathes but he turns to us and nods. “Come on. Let’s at least get our money’s worth. We’ve earned it.”
Whether we’ve earned it or not, the inn-keeper doesn’t seem to care either way. She obviously doesn’t like us, doesn’t like a group that looks like berserkers, or like beggars at best, staying within her walls and scaring off her well-paying customers.
She leads us up a steep, rickety wooden staircase to the upper floor, and I exchange a look with Taj. He shrugs. Normally upper floor rooms are reserved for the richer customers, as the air flows better and less vermin reaches it.
Of course, soon enough I see her goal. It’s a small chamber, wedged between the staircase and the rest of the rooms. Not a storage room, at least not anymore, and the two narrow beds shoved against two walls can’t possibly fit the four of us, even if she assumes (and rightly so) that I wouldn’t mind sleeping in the same bed any or all of my men.
Not something any decent girl would be expected to do.
I open my mouth to protest, and she lifts a finger forbiddingly.
“This is it, take it or leave it. And stay away from my other customers,” she all but growls, in a fairly good imitation of Finnen. “Don’t come down unless it’s to leave. Do you understand me?”
“But, dinner,” I start.
“Dinner will be brought up to you.”
“We need clothes,” Taj says.
“Do I look like a seamstress?”
“Then send us one.”
She gives him a once over and relaxes a little, probably deciding he’s the least wild-looking of our bunch. “I can sell you some second-hand clothes I have lying around, if you have the coin.”
“We have to see their state first,” Taj says carefully, “and if they fit us.”
She steps closer to him, sniffs and wrinkles her nose. “You should save your coin for a bath.”
“If possible, we’ll have that, too.” Taj returns her stony glare with an easy smile. “If your ladyship could see to it.”
“Hm.” Her gaze moves from his face down to his chest, and lower. “What are you doing with this bunch of losers, a fine man like you? You’re obviously not a Wildman.”
“You don’t seem to have any respect for the Drakoryas.” Taj’s voice goes flat, his smile fading. “Dragonkin. The secret of the Empire. They’re the fiercest warriors in the Imperial army, the terror of our enemies, men who have nothing to gain from throwing themselves into battle except their loyalty to the empire. They often give up their lives for us, often used to save the lives of regular troops, with no compensation should they survive and no benefit apart from a small piece of land, perhaps, and a hut to live in. Men who spend their lives alone and living as beasts, forgotten by us all. But you think you can talk dirt about them? Use their name as an insult?”
“Whoa.” I’m staring at Taj, a flower of warmth blooming in my chest. I didn’t know he felt that way about Wildmen. I thought he considered them mindless beasts but hearing him defending them is... beautiful.
Kiaran produces a small sound and I turn toward him. His eyes are shining too bright and I don’t know what’s going through his head but I step up to him and take his hand.
“Apologies, my lord,” the inn-keeper says, subdued. “I didn’t know you were an army man.”
“I’m not.” Taj shakes his head and turns away. “Not anymore.”
“Once a soldier, always a soldier. I’ll send up your dinner and some clothing for you to take a look at, my lord. I have… my son is in the army. He’s…” Again she stops, uncertainty in every line of her face. “I’ll have more blankets sent up, too.”
And with a hurried curtsy, she walks out, leaving us for the first time alone, all four of us within four walls. Hopefully, the inn-keeper will keep her promise of food because I’m famished. Only thing left, I think, is to hope the men won’t kill each other tonight.
