Across the room, the little girl twirled in place, swishing her dress dramatically as she giggled. “Dance with me!” she squealed.
Her brother wrinkled his nose and bolted in the opposite direction. “Ew, gross!”
I bit back a laugh just as the girl shouted, “Come on! The party is tomorrow, and I need to practice!”
My spoon hovered midair.
Their father clapped his hands once, beckoning the children back to the table. “Aubrey, we’ve already told you—we won’t be attending the masquerade this year. Maybe next time.”
Beside me, Shayde tensed. He set his spoon down in his empty bowl with a faint clink.
The little girl puffed out her cheeks and stomped back toward the table, arms crossed. “Not fair,” she muttered. “We always go. I want to dress up.”
Her mother reached out, combing her fingers gently through the girl’s hair as she slumped onto her folded arms. “This year… it’ll be okay if we miss just one, my dear. There’s always the next.”
Her voice was calm and tender—soothing in a way I wasn’t familiar with. Not from my life.
Shayde and I locked eyes in silent conversation. We ordered a round of ale to give us a reason to linger, watching the family out of the corners of our eyes as they finished their meal. When they finally stood to leave, the waitress came by to collect their dishes.
“Thanks again, Mr. Lofty,” she said cheerfully.
Once the family stepped outside, I downed the rest of my ale and waved the waitress back over for our tab. I pulled my balaclava down to reveal my face and offered her my most charming smile as I laid out more than enough coins to cover the bill.
“Mind if I ask how far we are from the stronghold?” I asked, flashing a grin and tossing a wink in Shayde’s direction. “We’re heading south for our first masquerade, and someone happened to lose our written directions.”
Shayde played along with a nod as he drained the last of his drink.
“Oh dear,” she said, leaning closer as she scooped up our mugs. “You’re only about a day out from the soiree if you’re on foot. Just follow the western path—it’ll take you straight there.”
She disappeared behind the bar, and Shayde and I stood from our booth.
“Looks like we need to find a place for the night,” I said over my shoulder.
By the time we left the tavern, the once-bustling square had grown quieter, most of the villagers having cleared out. We strolled along the winding paths, searching for anything that resembled an inn. As we rounded a corner, a door swung open—the jingle of a bell rang overhead as it nearly smacked us.
Two women burst out hand in hand, laughing as they skipped toward the wooded cabins I’d noticed earlier. They shared quick kisses and breathless giggles before vanishing into the trees.
The door creaked shut behind them, and I looked up to see a weathered sign swaying gently.
Rentals.
I pushed the door open again—nearly hitting Shayde in the face—and stepped inside.
An older man stood behind the counter, bald with thick glasses perched low on his nose. He didn’t exactly radiate hospitality.
“Good evening, sir,” I greeted, turning my charm back on. I relished the rare chance to show my face in public without consequence. “Do you have a room for the night? One with two beds, please.”
The bell chimed faintly as Shayde entered behind me, letting the door click shut. The man grunted something unintelligible, turned around, and grabbed a rusted iron key from a wall hook. He tossed it onto the counter without a second glance.
“Last one for the night,” he muttered. “You attending the stronghold’s shenanigans tomorrow too?”
Assuming he meant the masquerade, I nodded.
“Ten silvers.”
My jaw nearly dropped. Ten silvers? For a small-town rental that probably had more bugs than furniture? This guy was clearly gouging outsiders. I opened my mouth to protest, but Shayde placed a steady hand on my shoulder and laid the coins down with the other, pocketing the key.
He ushered me out of the building and toward the woods in silence.
