The boy from the stable bursts through the swinging door behind the bar like a hurricane. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Watch the bar,” she says to him. "I’ll be right back."
“Aye, aye, captain,” he replies with a salute.
Jen rolls her eyes and leads us to the stairs. “My grandson,” she says. “He’s a good boy, but a handful.”
“Where’s his mother?” Katya asks.
I grit my teeth against the tirade that is about to ensue, but Jen just gives her a thoughtful look and says, “She died a few years back. The flu.”
“I’m sorry,” Katya says.
Jen simply nods and continues up the stairs. When I asked that question the last time I was here, she about ripped my head off, but Katya asks and that’s just fine? Maybe she’s got a sweet spot for girls. Jen’s fairly young by fae standards—maybe fifty or so, and pretty. It’s obvious from her rough demeanor that the yearshaven’t been easy on her, but it’s the way she leans on the rail as she climbs, her knuckles white from gripping the wood that makes me wonder if there’s something more worrisome going on with her. I’ll have to ask her about it later, after we’re settled.
We follow her down the narrow hallway. Someone shouts in pleasure from behind a door as we pass and Katya jumps. She looks at me, her eyes wide in question. I just shake my head and hope she drops it because I do not want to explain that to her right now. Or ever, really.
Jen feeds the key into the lock, opens the door, and steps aside for us to enter. “You rentin’ by the hour or staying the night?” she asks.
Fuck.
A very cute little line appears between Katya’s brows. “Why would anyone rent by the hour?"
Jen’s lips spread into a wide, gapped-toothed grin. Her eyes dance with humor. “I’ve got a few that can get by with only 20 minutes, but I try to be optimistic.” She winks, and Katya’s jaw drops. Guess she just figured it out.
“The night,” Katya says in a rush, like she’s afraid Jen will get away before she can say she isn’t a prostitute.
“Got it. Well, here you go.” She stuffs the keys into Katya’s hand, and moves around her, giving me a pat on the shoulder on her way to the stairs. “You two have fun.”
Katya steps into the room tentatively, like the copious amount of bodily fluids left behind by the previous residents could jump out and attack her at any moment. “There’s only one bed,” she says, eyes scanning the tiny space. It’s the smallest room Jen rents,which is why it’s always the last to go. I don’t know that I’d even really call it a room, more like a large closet.
“There’s only one bed,” she says again, seemingly still a little dazed by her interaction with Jen.
“Yes, there is.” Only one bed is a bit of an understatement. There’s only one child-sized bed pushed up against the window with so little room between the mattress and wall on either side, you’re forced to climb over the footboard just to get in.
“Where are you going to sleep?” she asks.
“In the bed.” I’m already taking off my boots. I know I’ll have to put them back on to run downstairs for food in a minute, but lying down sounds too damn good to resist. I drop my saddlebags and coat on the floor because there is literally no other place to put them and climb my aching body onto the bed. I lie back and groan in relief as my muscles stretch and relax. All these days on that horse are starting to catch up to me.
“Aemon?”
I push up onto my elbows to find Katya still standing in the exact same spot in front of the door, staring at me. “Yes,” I say, holding the‘e’because it’s just too fun to mess with her.
“Where am I going to sleep?”
I pat the sliver of space next to me. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her eyes get even bigger.
“I can’t sleep there.”
“Sure, you can.”
“No. No. No. No,” she says, shaking her head as if that’s going to do something.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” I reply, nodding mine because I’m an asshole.
“N-no. You’ve got to sleep on the floor.” She points to the square of space between the bed and the door that’s maybe big enough for a medium-sized dog.
“I don’t think so. You’re more than welcome to sleep there if you want, but I’m just fine in the bed.”
