Scarlet’s eyes lingered on me as I adjusted my balaclava, confusion flickering across her face. But she only nodded. “She’s right. We won’t stay long.”
We entered the village and tied up the horses. River disappeared into the trees, keeping to the shadows. At the first vendor table, I spotted a lineup of floppy, hideous women’s hats. While the seller was distracted, I snatched one and tossed it to Scarlet.
She caught it, brows raised.
I pointed subtly at her crimson eyes.
She got the message and pulled the hat low, its oversized brim casting enough shadow to keep her features hidden as long as she kept her head down. Then I slipped into the crowd.
The man hadn’t lied—the square teemed with people bartering and browsing. I glimpsed Rhodes and Scarlet at the tables when Nash grabbed my elbow.
“Over here.” He nodded ahead.
“It’s not fair that you’re so tall. I can’t see anything in this crowd.”
“One of the perks of being me.” He winked.
I rolled my eyes.
We made our way through the crowd and slipped into a worn-down building with a wooden sign bearing a faded pint of ale. While most of the crowd outside was made up of women, it seemed their spouses had all gathered here while they shopped. Not a single table was open, and servers bobbed and weaved through the packed room, balancing platters stacked with full pints.
A few men looked up as we walked in, their gazes lingering on me for a second—until they realized I wasn’t dressed to impress. In my plain smoky-gray leathers and balaclava, the only things visible were my hazel eyes. The few women in the room were perched on men’s laps, their busts nearly spilling out of bodices that looked two sizes too tight.
I hated men.
But I also despised women, so I don’t know where that left me.
Nash pushed to the bar, claiming a seat that opened up. I followed, eyes sweeping the room.
I didn’t realize how close Nash had leaned until he spoke low in my ear. “You’re being suspicious.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
He shrugged. “Blend in? Act like you’re here to relax. Maybe take off the balaclava.”
“I can’t,” I whisper-yelled. “Father forbids me from showing my face outside the Hollow.”
“Your face, sure. But let your hair down. Stop looking like a spy.”
I reluctantly slipped the cap of my balaclava off, leaving the fabric to cover just my nose and mouth. The breeze against my sweaty scalp was a relief. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to shake the tension.
“Awh, come on, my man! Let the lady have the seat,” a thick, sweaty man slurred behind Nash.
Nash glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Nah. My girl’s got the best seat in the house.”
I didn’t have time to process what he meant before his hands were on my hips, pulling me into his lap so we were both perched on the barstool.
“Act natural,” he murmured as the barmaid approached.
Anger boiled through my veins at being treated like someone’s lap girl. I gave the drunken man a smile that could pass for innocent—if all you saw were my eyes.
“Yes, dear,” I cooed, forcing the most feminine tone I could muster as I shifted my weight on Nash’s lap.
The barmaid asked for our order. I pressed my palm against Nash’s thigh, secretly channeling hidden thorns to jab into his leg.
“Yeah, please—” Nash yelped, jumping from the sting, clutching my wrist and muffling his cry with his other hand. “You’re a tyrant,” he muttered.
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” I purred, voice dripping with mock seduction.
