In a quiet voice, I said, “It’s not too friendly-looking.”
Ward chuckled. “The cult of Zophiel inspired much fear in the past, but no one much listens to them with the Queen in place. They have terrible bake sales. They do, however, take in travelers to repair their baking reputation.”
I looked around for any sort of alternative to the gloom castle. “They take travelers in for culting? Casual sacrifice? I’m not sure we should trust them. Crimes against cake can’t be so easily erased. What about their competition over there?”
I pointed at the sprawling brick-red building next to it. Luxurious, silk couches in every color imaginable sat on open, wood decks jutting from uncovered, full-length windows. Cheery pink flowers hung from crawling vines along the roofline. The freshly painted sign before it read THE CLAMOURING CLAM. That looked much more welcoming, down to the trimmed hedges and warm, flickering lanterns.
“You want to stay in a brothel?” Ward asked as he pressed a hand to his chest in mock dismay. “Who would protect my virtue?”
I laughed at him and jumped down from Greg. Is that what that thing was? “Seems like a better deal than buying books no one ever reads, paying dues until we’re broke, and ending up in a cult. But it looks closed,” I said, disappointed.
Ward dismounted with more grace than I managed. The easy flex of his muscles made my mouth run dry. “The brothers will make a place for us. It will be fine.”
I was still voting for the brothel. It was possibly the best idea I’d had yet. That wonderful kiss confirmed I liked Ward—his gentle confidence and effortless praise didn’t hurt, either. I wanted to know if all the terrible sex I had in the past would hold true. If it was a deal breaker, I needed to know while I could still walk away from him.
He rang the gigantic bell outside the church's compound. There was no way I was joining any cult colony. The person who opened the small door in the building's side inspired little confidence with their shuffle and thick, black, hooded robe. Way too hot for this weather.
“Your tithe?” The person looked Ward up and down like a piece of meat and I bristled. Only I was allowed to do that—for daydream purposes.
“We were hoping for a hot meal. We can help prepare it,” Ward said. Well, he could. I would try not to stab myself with a knife.
“Additional tithe,” the robed person said in a bored tone, holding his hand out. I thought Ward said they did this out of the goodness of their failed baker hearts?
Send this to the seven hells. I was definitely trying the brothel—closed or not.
“Wait… are you a…” The conversation drifted off as I slipped away and stepped up to the large red door of The Clamouring Clam. Not giving myself enough time to talk myself out of it, I knocked. A bare-faced woman all but ripped the door open, clutching her colorful silk robe closed. Rings and clanking bracelets covered her hands, but I looked like I caught her getting ready.
“We’re not open for the evening.” She tried to close the door in my face.
“I’m looking for a room for the night, please. Every other place seems full.”
She opened the door again, sighing. “You’re dressed like a bumpkin, but even you can see this isn’t an inn.”
Her frown lines and tense shoulders didn't scream a woman who parted with anything for free, but the bangles on her arm were cheap costume jewelry. “It doesn’t look like a place that passes up easy money.”
The woman eyed me more carefully. Then she looked closer at our horses and gear, and finally at Ward next door. I couldn’t argue he looked like a King at any distance. “True. I’ll take a gold talon for each and you get what you get for a room.”
I had no idea how much that was since our village mainly traded goods, but I couldn’t imagine Ward balking at the price of anything. “And a meal.”
She pressed her mouth into a thin line. “I’m not throwing in any services, just food.”
I gritted my teeth. Ward better not look at any services after he just proposed marriage. The surge of jealousy was worse than in the wolf woods. His promises opened up something that felt suspiciously like hope. I didn’t want it crushed. My self-confidence was low, but not that low. “Just food,” I agreed.
I thrust out my hand in agreement—a move I had never attempted in my life. The woman took it with a firm grip and shook like the businesswoman she was.
“Just ask for Noora when you’re ready. You can waste her time instead of mine. I will tell the house brownie to clean out… up your room.”
That didn't sound like we were getting the honeymoon suite, but as I glanced over at Ward, still speaking to the hunched robed figure, it was still better than the alternative. I was so proud of myself for doing anything useful. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as I walked back to Ward. He slung his arm around me and I grabbed a stray leather strap hanging off him.
The Brother turned to me and eyed me up and down like he was about to ask me about my engrams level. He opened his mouth to reveal a Frightmare of pointed teeth. They made my snake fangs look cute. “I’ll take him off your hands for only twenty-five silver. He’ll make a hefty sacrifice.”
I looked around the empty road, right, then left. Was he talking about Greg?
“Thirty silver talons, then,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes. “Thirty silver talons for what?”
The Brother gestured to Ward, who immediately swelled even bigger, his eyes glowing. Was this asshat trying to buy my bear? Violence sparked in the air from nowhere, and scales stirred in the back of my mind.
