Themas caught her arms to steady her, bracing her against his muscular frame. “You smell … like him,” he murmured in a small, disconcerted voice.
His touch was intimate, unwelcomed—and uncomfortable. The cold iron studs of his brigandine came too close to her skin, numbing it lightly.
Semras shrugged out of his embrace. “He did not touch me, Themas. Let it go.”
“How—”
Her glare shut him up. “I won’t have you doubt my words. Take them, and be grateful I spoke to you at all.”
Chastised, he bowed without a word, then followed her to the inn’s common room.
They arrived just in time to catch the end of breakfast. A few sword-bearers were finishing their meal, hurrying to join the others outside, while Pepa cleared empty tables of their plates.
The inquisitor was still sitting at a table. By his side, Sir Ulrech stood looming over a map laid in front of them. Half-filled platters of food had been pushed away to free some space for it.
Before Semras could choose where to sit, Velten beckoned her to his side with a flippant hand wave. She groaned but still approached.
Sir Ulrech was arguing with the inquisitor in a low tone, his hands spread on each side of the map. The two men looked quite similar, she observed. Ulrech’s shoulders were bulkier, and hiseyes were a dark brown rather than the striking pale blue of the inquisitor’s, but from afar, they could have been mistaken for one another. Their profile had a similar slope to it; unsurprising, considering their family names both originated from Ostvald, Vandalesia’s northern neighbour.
“… and speed is what I require, var Hesser. We have wasted enough time as it is. I want—” The inquisitor paused. His eyes glided toward Semras. “I …” His brows furrowed with confusion.
Ulrech used the opportunity to press his case. “I understand, my lord, but I am certain there is something deeply wrong in these parts of the Vedwoods.” He frowned, and Semras realized belatedly that this was his pensive face. “The horses spooked out of control when we crossed it on our way here. If some Bleak magic is at work, it would be wise to postpone dealing with it until we know more. Taking the mountain path will only delay us by two or three days.”
Inquisitor Velten gestured toward Semras. “We will have a witch with us this time. Let her earn her bread if you are so concerned! I will risk crossing the Vedwoods if it means she will still have a corpse to examine once we are back. There is only so much cold storage can do to delay putrefaction.”
“Delightful,” Semras said, crossing her arms over her dark purple dress. “I believe I am no longer hungry.”
“Youwilleat,” the inquisitor snapped back at her. “Now.”
And thus died all the goodwill he had fostered the night before. What a prickly man.
“The men will be nervous,” Sir Ulrech said.
Inquisitor Velten scoffed. “They already are.”
“Very well. I can see you have made up your mind already. I have warned you, my lord, and that is all I can do.” The knight gave the inquisitor a bow. “I will be on the lookout for trouble. Foranykind of trouble,” he added, glaring at Semras. He rolled the map and left, clutching it in his dark leather gauntlet.
Drumming his fingers on the table, Velten nodded to the free space next to him on the bench. “I said ‘now,’ witch.”
Semras exchanged a look with Themas. Her anger toward him receded, replaced by a deep empathy for what he had to deal with all day.
With a sigh, she sat in her designated place. As much as she disliked being ordered around, she knew better than to ride on an empty stomach.
“Make yourself useful for once and serve her,” Inquisitor Velten barked at the young knight. “I will not tolerate any more delays.”
Eyes downcast, Themas executed his order in silence.
“You’re not a morning person, are you?” Semras asked the inquisitor. “What has gotten into you?”
“I should be the one asking.”
A strange tension gleamed in his eyes. After a curt glance around the room, Velten buried his face in her neck, right beneath her ear. Jolting back, Semras yelped at the sudden invasion.
His arm slipped around her waist and yanked her closer. “You smell like me,” Velten whispered in her ear. “What are you playing at?”
A fierce blush spread across Semras’ face. Across the room, Pepa winked at her.
The witch could have hexed her out of mortification. Instead, she squirmed against the inquisitor’s arm. “I swear it wasn’t my idea. It was the maid, and I—”
