Ignoring Nalyx’s comments, she led him across the square, where most people were by now either too tired or too drunk to pay them much mind. “Which way?” she asked, when they reached the edge of the soldiers’ compound.
“That way,” Nalyx said, pointing. “Room number eighty-five. On the right bit of the… the bit of the… thingy…”
Thankfully, Gantalla didn’t have to make too many guesses. The rooms were all neatly labelled, and she simply followed the row until they reached number eighty-five.
“Here we go,” she said, opening the door. Inside, the room was surprisingly spacious, with a wide bed, a large closet and colourful tapestries on the walls. Her own room back in the palace had been larger, but not by much. She led Nalyx to the bed, barely managing to pull back the blankets before he collapsed, letting out a heartfelt groan. “Fuck, that’s the best feeling in the world,” he said, burying his face in a pillow.
“Do you want to get undressed?” she asked. But Nalyx didn’t move. A moment later, he let out a gentle snore.
Gantalla simply stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to be amused or offended. Then she chuckled. Clad in armour and with a sword in hand, he was probably the stuff of nightmares, but right now, he just looked cute. Helpless, in a way, with his hands wrapped in padding and his mouth hanging open. Her eyes were drawn to the stubble on his chin again, a detail that Gantalla found intriguing. Of all the peoples of Chalandros, only the salases and the mages grew facial hair. Both groups of people were powerful, the salases as warriors, and the mages wielding magic that could make or break entire kingdoms. She ran her fingertips over his rough jaw, fascinated by the way it felt against her skin. Human skin was soft, she’d realised – far softer than a hadathmet’s leathery hide.
Stop staring at him, she scolded herself. She had no reason to be overly interested in the way a human man looked. He was just a means to an end, nothing more. But even so, she took the time to remove his boots for him, then covered him with the blankets.
She looked around, wondering where she could spend the night. She’d seen plenty of women wandering off with other warriors throughout the evening, and from the comments Fin had made earlier, it seemed it was not only acceptable, but expected that she’d end up spending the night in one of their rooms. And if she hadn’t actually got around to taking any of her clothes off? Well, that was no one’s business but her own.
There was a thick rug on the floor. Three months ago, she’d have been horrified at the idea of sleeping on the floor. Now, though, it looked comfortable enough, given the nights she’d spent sleeping on hard ground. But even so, she took the time to steal a spare pillow off the bed, then took one of the blankets as well. She set up her makeshift bed, checking one last time that Nalyx seemed to be comfortable.
All things considered, she hadn’t done badly for the night. She’d had a decent meal, she’d avoided the worst of the wandering hands, and now she had a safe place to get some rest. If only she could be certain of tomorrow being as successful…
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gantalla woke surprisingly early in the morning, given how long the day before had been. But with a decent meal and a cup of whisky on board, she’d slept like a log, feeling well rested in the morning.
Nalyx was still asleep, and her first thought was to duck away unnoticed. He’d barely remember going to bed, in all likelihood, and he wasn’t likely to bemoan the loss of a woman he’d only met the night before.
But there were two immediate problems with her plan to slip away, and the first presented itself when she stripped back the blanket and stood up. She was still dressed in her clothes from the night before, and while the skirt was fine, the blouse was going to cause problems. Most of the townsfolk last night had been dressed in far more modest clothes than her provocative outfit, and if she was to head for another city, her current attire was likely to attract some unwanted attention. Not to mention being frightfully cold during long nights on the road.
The second problem, of course, was where to find that elusive pair of new boots, but one thing at a time.
She headed for the bathhouse, wondering where her cloak and shirt had got to. But as luck would have it, she found them easily enough, clean and neatly folded in a pile near a dozen other sets of clothes. Presumably, some of the women had washed them yesterday and set them out to be returned to their owners.
She dressed again in her trousers and shirt, folding the skirt carefully. But she returned the blouse to the racks of clothes hanging in the storage area, sure that she wouldn’t be needing it again.
As she was coming out of the bathhouse, she ran into Fin. “Good morning,” she said, plastering a smile to her face. She was determined not to get delayed again, as she had done yesterday, but there was no harm in being polite.
“Where the heck did you run off to last night?” Fin asked, smiling, but sounding mildly affronted. “Hallix said you just disappeared.”
“Well, actually, I…” She hesitated. Saying that Hallix had been an insufferable oaf was not going to go over well with people who all but worshiped the ground the warriors walked on. “I ended up spending the night with someone else.”
Disapproval gave way to wary optimism. “Oh? Who?”
“Nalyx,” Gantalla said. And then a real smile blossomed on Fin’s face.
“Ooh, good choice. Nice body on that one. Well, personally, I’d have stuck with Hallix, but each to their own. What are you up to this morning?”
“Finding myself a pair of boots.” She’d swapped her ornate slippers for her mud-stained court shoes, but neither were suitable for a long walk. “And then I’m not sure. Wait until Nalyx wakes up, for a start. He went to town on the whisky last night, so it could take a while.”
Fin laughed. “Well, come and find me if you’re at a loose end. I’ll show you around the city some more. And then the festival will kick off again this evening.”
Gantalla smiled, ignoring the fact that everyone seemed to think she’d be hanging around. But with Fin watching her, she couldn’t make her escape just yet, so she headed back in the direction of Nalyx’s room.
Back inside, she looked around. Nalyx was still snoring, so she straightened the room, setting the pillow and blanket back on the bed. Now, where to get a pair of boots? She eyed the pair she’d stripped off Nalyx last night, sitting neatly beside the door. Ignoring the flare of guilt she felt, she held up one boot against her own foot. They were study and well made, ideal for walking – or for fighting hoards of demons – but his pair were miles too big for her own feet. But with two hundred warriors in town and all of their boots undoubtedly getting plenty of wear, there had to be a supply of extras somewhere.
Then her gaze fell on a pile of clothes and bits of metal near the door. She picked up a few pieces and realised this must be Nalyx’s armour. It was filthy, splattered with dirt and blood, and as she examined his breastplate, she realised that the leather straps had been cut.
Hm. There was most definitely a supply of extra straps around, along with other supplies for cleaning and repairing the warriors’ armour. And perhaps a new pair of boots could be found in the same place?
With a plan forming in her mind, she let herself out the door, taking the damaged breastplate with her. Out in the courtyard, she spotted a couple of the warriors, chatting to some of the serving women. Trying to project confidence, she strode in their direction. Repairing Nalyx’s armour should be a perfectly worthwhile activity, in the eyes of the other warriors. Nothing unusual about it at all.
