Huntyr was right—per usual. What seemed like such a small request for aid had the potential to shake everything we’d worked so hard to build.
“Fine,” Rummy sneered. “We’ll all think about it. But let’s not forget that we have a perfectly safe and perfectly protected kingdom at peace right here.”
I straightened. “And let’s not forget that creating relationships with our neighboring kingdoms can maintain that peace for centuries to come.”
Wolf and Huntyr glanced at each other with tired eyes. I felt for them. I really did. It couldn’t be easy to hold the weight of these decisions, and I certainly did not envy them for it, even if they held that weight well.
Rummy started toward the door. “Where are you going?” I asked.
Without looking back, she answered, “I’m going to get a damn drink.”
I nodded a quick goodbye to Huntyr and Wolf before catching the door behind her.
The cool night air hit me, a welcome relief from the stuffy atmosphere of the library. I took three strides onto the street, fully expecting Rummy to turn the other way and head toward the tavern.
Instead, she spun on her heel and smacked me in the chest.
“Ow!” I rubbed at the spot over my leather jacket. “What was that for?”
“Are you trying to get us all killed?”
I huffed, incensed. “You really think that mobilizing the army I’ve been training for years in order to protect our kingdom is more dangerous than sitting around and waiting for the war to come to us?”
Her blonde hair blew in the wind as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes. I do.”
Head tipped back, I blew out a breath. “Unbelievable.”
Rummy thought I was arrogant and stuck-up, and that was fine. But to think I would actually risk this kingdom? I brushed past her, tucking my angel wings in as I bumped her shoulder.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she shouted after me.
There was only one way I was going to get everyone on board with helping Pericius, and it started with changing the mind of a prickly blonde woman. “Like you said,” I called over my shoulder, “I’m going to get a damn drink.”
Or five.
Though this place didn’t quite qualify as a real tavern, for all intents and purposes, it got the job done. And with at least forty patrons inside, talking, drinking, and dancing, it seemed they all appreciated it, too.
It was Rummy’s idea, actually. She and a friend, a woman who once ran a tavern in her hometown, opened the place after they made the journey to move to Scarlata. According to her, it was important that we all do more than just survive.
And damn it all, she was right.
These people survived so much. Many of them ran on survival instincts for years. Decades, even. To sit around and laugh, sing, dance? It had been a foreign concept to most of us.
Now, it was a nightly occurrence in Scarlata. In the center of our crumbling town was a circular clearing that became the gathering point for our people. It started after the war, with bonfires and shared meals every night. Slowly, this place became our refuge. Our beacon of hope.
And the best part?We had endless ale now.
Lanterns lined the perimeter of the clearing, accompanied by wooden benches and tables. The lights strung from trees on either side illuminated the area, causing Rummy’s tanned skin to glow as we made our way to the stone bar.
“Rummy! Commander!” The barmaid—Sophia—cheered as we took two open seats at the tall counter.
Behind her, half a dozen wooden barrels lined the back of the small outdoor structure, all filled with sweet, golden ale.
“What a pleasure to have you both here tonight. You’ve been busy, it seems.”
I laughed out loud at her comment. “I’ve been busy, yes. I can’t say the same for Rummy here.”
She elbowed me in the ribs but kept the smile plastered on her face as she looked to her friend. “Hi, Soph.”
