Mirella huffs just like Marlak, but doesn’t say anything.
The owner then brings us cups and a pitcher of water, and I fill the cups.
Ziven takes a sip, then says, “Renel, I don’t mean to meddle, but… You just called Tarlia stinky.”
I’m not sure what he means. “She was upset she was smelling bad, was she not?”
He takes a deep breath. “Yes, but when she said she was stinky, you should have said she wasn’t.”
That doesn’t make sense. “First, I can’t lie. Second, I rushed to make sure she got a place to clean herself, didn’t I?”
Ziven traces the rim of the cup with his finger. “It’s just that when girls say something negative about themselves, you shouldn’t agree with them.”
I frown, and to my surprise, Mirella does the same, and asks, “So youlieto them?”
“No, but you say something nice. If she tells youshe stinks, you tell her she’s still gorgeous or something.”
I’m not following his reasoning. “I should state an obvious fact? And what does one thing have to do with the other?”
He waves a hand. “Nevermind.”
The inn owner thankfully interrupts the nonsensical conversation and brings us a large pot with soup, bowls, a jug of juice and more cups, and then leaves us.
Mirella tilts her head. “Do human men deceive women?”
Ziven raises a shoulder. “Sometimes. Don’t fae men do that?”
“No,” I say, while Mirella shrugs.
I look at the stairs again and see Tarlia coming down, her hair wet, wearing a bright yellow dress. I’m so relieved to see that she’s here, that she’s fine, and yet she doesn’t look at me.
When she gets near the table, I smile at her. “Feeling better?”
“Yes.” Tarlia then takes the chair beside mine, but instead of sitting on it, she pulls it around the table and places it between Ziven and Mirella. I want to tell myself that she wants to sit in front of me, but in truth it’s obvious she wants to sit by the human prince.
My heart sinks, its heaviness about to spread an ugly feeling through my body, but I do my best to ignore it. We were never anything to each other, and either way, rescuing her was my duty.
I pass her a bowl with soup. “It shouldn’t upset your stomach.”
Tarlia gives me a curt smile, then devours the contents of her bowl. I eat just a little, and so does Mirella, while Ziven takes a full bowl. Human appetites, I suppose. At least they’ll get along.
Tarlia takes two more servings, and when she’s almost done, I look around to ensure we aren’t being watched, and pass her the sundering dagger.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“It can cut bonds,” I explain. “You don’t have magic, but it’s worth a try. So you cut whatever ties you had with Zorwal.”
She stares at the black blade and shakes her head. “I think the only thing I can do with this is stab someone.”
“Just hold the dagger,” I say. “Then imagine you’re cutting any ties you had with him.”
Tarlia takes a deep breath, waves the dagger back and forth, then passes it to me, and I put it back in its holster. There’s no way to know if it worked.
Mirella turns to her. “I don’t think you would have been able to escape if you were bound to him.”
Tarlia sighs. “It’s what I hope.”
Ziven taps on the table. “Am I the only one wondering where we’re going?”
