It had been so long since Fern had felt the flush and tingle his attention produced in her that she almost didn’t recognize it.
Hewashandsome, even if he had to be ten years her junior.
“Brandy makes me a talker,” she said, self-consciously smoothing out her whiskers. “So don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Consider me warned.” He grinned and rose to summon the innkeeper.
Brandydidmake her a talker, but she retained enough presence of mind after their encounter with Chak not to mention Zyll or the bounty. The tale of Taltus and the Four Fingers in Bycross was more than enough to sustain a good story, anyway, although it took some delicate omissions to subtract the thieving goblin from it.
Quillin was an attentive listener and an engaging conversationalist. Still, over the course of the evening, she didn’t discover a great deal about him other than allusions to the breadth of his travel and knowledge of the Territory.
That didn’t seem to matter much, though.
When she parted from his company, it was with cheeks, whiskers, and tail buzzing pleasantly with brandy-glow, and an invitation to meet the next day that she’d dithered over.
She closed the door gently behind her and locked it, then turned to find Zyll sitting up on the bed with her head cocked and Nigel across her knees, staring curiously at her. Astryx lay unmoving in exactly the same position, her chest rising and falling with sleep. The fire had burned low, illuminating them both in a rusty, pulsing glow.
“What?” whispered Fern, unnerved by the keenness of the goblin’s gaze.
“You are, mmm, how do you say, kindled in the cheeks?” Zyll didn’t bother to whisper, but Astryx didn’t stir.
Fern frowned. “You can’t see my cheeks. I’m covered in fur.” Her cheeks, of course, instantly flushed.
“She and her sweetheart were practically canoodling,” piped a voice from her satchel.
“Oh, shut up,” hissed Fern, fishing him out. “Tomorrow, I’m finding a sheath to muzzle you with.” She approached Zyll and offered the knife. “Stick him in a pocket or something.”
The goblin ignored Breadlee, patted Nigel, and said, “I am likingthisshankling.”
Fern sighed, stuffing Breadlee back into her bag with a protesting squawk from him. “Whatever. Put Nigel on the floor and budge over. There’s no way I’m missing out on a soft bed, and there’s not enough room for the two of usandan old man.”
20
It was hardly the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in and in addition to her baby-bird snores, Zyll was a bit of a kicker, with sharp little toenails. None of it mattered. Fern had the most restful sleep she’d achieved since leaving Murk for Thune all those weeks ago.
When she woke to thin silver light filtering through the curtains, Astryx was folding her damp clothes before shoving them back into her haversack. Zyll continued to snore, a warm bundle of pigtails and puzzles at Fern’s back. Rain clattered on the roof, and the fire was all but deceased.
“Are we leaving?” mumbled Fern.
Astryx scooped Nigel off the floor and buckled him back over her shoulder. “It’s still pouring, and I don’t fancy wading our way across the countryside. I have a few errands to attend to, then I’ll see what the locals have to say about the weather and when they predict it’ll break.”
Fern sat upright with the quilt across her legs and scrubbed the sleep from her eyes.
The Oathmaiden shot her a look. “Have a good night?”
Something in her tone made Fern’s cheeks flush again. “Um. Sure. Yes.”
“Careful you don’t end up in any strange wagons.” A hint of a smile from Astryx.
Fern breathed on a paw and sniffed it. She could detect perhaps thefaintesthint of brandy. The flush grew hotter. “I hadoneglass.”
“Mm. Alone?” The smile had not departed.
“I—” Fern suddenly remembered relating their recent adventures in Bycross to Quillin, and wondered what Astryx would think about that. “No. I had a nice conversation. It was very normal.” Then, with a hint of defiance, “And if we’re not leaving today, maybe I’ll meet him and have another one.”
She wasn’t sure if she expected a protest or another sly verbal nudge, but Fern got neither. “Mm. Be careful. And, rain or no, we’ll likely leave tomorrow. I think it’s bestthatone stays in this room.” Astryx pointed at the sleeping figure of Zyll. “Don’t leave her alone for long, or the door unlocked.”
She reached for the latch, then paused and bent to retrieve something—a folded piece of parchment. Her brows rose. “This is for you.” She tossed it on the bed at Fern’s feet. “It must have been averynice conversation.” Then she was gone, quietly shutting the door behind her and padding down the hall.
