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The corner of his lips curl into a smile. “Definitely.”
I let out a huff of air as a red-haired serving girl delivers two more cups in front of us and two bowls of the amazing-smelling stew with a torn piece of flour-dusted crusty white bread. My stomach growls, but I refrain from digging in first.
“You were awful yesterday, and I don’t know if I can forgive you.” It’s the truth that I feel deep inside me. I know I care for Sunder. Just watching the way his face falls as he stares at the wood grain table makes my heart ache.
“You’re right. I understand if you can’t forgive me. But I promise I’ll keep trying to make it up to you every day for the rest of my life. And if we can somehow fix this broken soul, I’ll try in every life after. Mira… I..I-I’m sorry.”
The last bit comes out as a half whisper, barely audible over the busy tap room. But for a moment it sounded like he was going to say something else. Raucous laughter and a drinking song erupts around us in a language I’ve never heard before. I take a big gulp of the tasty mead, letting the sincerity of his words marinate in the alcohol.
A fog between us lifts as we eat in silence, each scarfing down the hot soup.
“This is so much better than that rawhide you’ve been feeding me,” I say suddenly, with a grin.
Sunder barks out a laugh.
“I’ve been waiting for you to complain about it.”
His words trail off as he stares at something behind me. I follow his gaze to two men entering the common room in tattered clothes and dirt-smeared faces. Before I turn back to Sunder, he’s already on his feet, walking to them with an excited gait.
As I watch with curiosity, Sunder approaches the two newcomers. One of them, a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders and muscular arms. The other is shorter, older, and has a thick beard. He looks like a farmer.
The three men talk animatedly. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Sunder’s body language shows excitement and familiarity. He claps the older man on the back and the group rolls with laughter.
I can’t help but smile at them. Seeing Sunder like this… it-
Sunder gestures towards me as the men look me over. Immediately heat rises to my cheeks, feeling like I’ve been caught spying.
I quickly drop my eyes, as if the stew suddenly became very interesting. A moment later, Sunder comes back to me, but he doesn’t sit. His smile is full of joy. It’s so odd, yet infectious, seeing that expression on his face. I can’t help but smile back at him.
“Friends I haven’t seen in centuries,” he explains, like it’s the most normal thing to have friendships that span eternity.
“Go,” I smile. “Have fun. I’m going to bed soon, anyway.”
He gives a quick nod and says, “I’ll just be over here if you need me.”
It’s so strange watching Sunder ‘Stone Heart’ laugh and joke with these men. After a few more minutes, I finish my dinner alone, listening to the sounds of those around me. I try to see if I can hear Sunder and his group, but the men at the table next to me are being too loud. A drunk knocks over his mug, splashing it across my new white dress.
I gasp and stand to quickly clean it off. The drunk man stands, pausing as if inspecting me.
“What’s a human doing here alone, huh?” he slurs his speech slightly as he steps up to me as if in challenge.
I freeze, not knowing how to respond. I glance at Sunder’s table, but I don’t see him or his friends anymore. Did he leave me?
“You’re pretty,” he continues, eyes narrowing as he leers at my chest.
He grabs my arm roughly, slamming me against his body. Quickly, his other hand slides down my backside, as I try to push him off of me. He squeezes my ass hard, and I rear back and slap his face out of reflex.
The drunk man’s eyes glow with red rage now, and he shoves me to the ground. I fall onto my side, landing hard on my hip and shoulder. He rears his foot back as if he’ll kick me. Instinctively, I curl into a ball with a gasp.
“Leave her!” a deep voice roars over the hum of the tavern. The room stills at the command in his voice. Like he’s used to giving orders and just knowing others will obey.
Sunder.
The drunk turns towards movement in the crowd, still holding his foot poised to kick. He spins again, his eyes wide with surprise. Sunder is already upon him. He slams his fist into the man’s stomach, doubling him over. Then he kicks him in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards.
Vaguely in the back of my mind, a distant voice chirps, “This. Is. Spartaaaa!”
I scramble to my feet and run to the stairway leading to the bedrooms. He’s standing over the fallen man, who is curled up on the floor, moaning softly. As Sunder kicks him hard in the ribs, the man cries out and rolls over onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling, tears streaming down his cheeks.
