“Both,” Vade replied.
“One room?” The barmaid shot a judgmental glance at Orelia, smiling when she looked at Vade. “Or two?”
“One.”
The woman pouted, but there was a challenge in her eye saying she wasn’t convinced they were together. Orelia found herself stepping closer to Vade.
“Give me a second, sweetheart, and I’ll get you a key.” She winked at the fae and dropped the ales off at the table behind her.
Orelia noticed the sign hanging above the bar area run by three scowling dwarves. “Boar’s Breath Tavern. Couldn’t have chosen a place with a better name?” she asked, ignoring the way the other barmaids were all being less than obvious about sneaking looks atthe man at her side. They sneered at her, and a territorial part of her came alive.
“This place has the best meat and potatoes, and they always have a clean room.”
The barmaid returned and dangled the key in front of her. “Lucky for you, our best room is available. I remember how much you liked that one last time.”
Perhaps it was the blatant disregard for her presence that irked her, but Orelia found herself growing hot with frustration. An unexpected emotion tried to spark to life, but the witch quickly tamped it down.
Vade plucked the key from her hand. “Thank you. And we’ll take two meat plates and two ales.”
The woman twirled a curly strand of hair around her finger, eyes lined in dark kohl, sweat making her forehead and cleavage glisten. “Right away. I’ll save that table for you.” She didn’t bother looking at Orelia as she gestured toward the far corner.
They dropped their packs off in the room and came back downstairs. Orelia had set Bute’s jar on the dresser, noting that the bed was big enough for two people, but barely. Since they’d spent the last few days in the woods, she hadn’t thought about what would happen when they actually found a decent place to sleep. Vade didn’t make a comment about the sleeping arrangements, but she found herself anxiously awaiting slumber the longer she stared at the bed.
The main room downstairs was alive with drunken banter and boisterous laughs. Orelia studied the carefree patrons from her seatat the corner table, smiling at the revelry happening under a ceiling of warm trulights.
The space held half the population of Minro, and she had never seen so much joy in one place in all her life. Ample-busted women sat on men’s laps, people shouted and jabbed at one another over a dice game, and two men were locked into a quiet conversation in the back. Rens, stivs, batalins, and dwarves danced to the music from the fiddlers in the center of the room.
Her attention fell to Vade who hadn’t realized she was looking at him. When he did, he cleared his throat. “Far cry from Minro,” he said.
She tried to hide her grin at the flush of color in his cheeks. “I’ve never seen anything like this. If I lived here, I would never leave. What else could there be to see?”
“People lose themselves in the pleasures of Goldbottom. But don’t be deceived. Evil lurks around every corner.”
She rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Do you ever let yourself be happy?”
He seemed surprised by her question. “I’m perfectly happy. Except the whole being tethered to you thing.” Vade scanned the room for the third time, and she guessed his fingers were twitching against his daggers under the table.
“You don’t look happy. Or relaxed.”
“Just because I don’t walk around looking at the world like it’s all pretty skies and rainbows doesn’t mean I’m not happy. You and I are very different. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “You’re right. I get my happiness from seeing the world for its possibilities, and you get yours from killing.”
He took a break from assessing the patrons to focus on her. “Precisely.”
The busty barmaid set two meat plates and two ales in front of them. The pork, beef, and chicken steamed, nestled against a bed of herb potatoes with a chunk of bread and butter on the side. Orelia’s mouth watered instantaneously and she almost drooled.
“Anything else for you, sweetheart?”
Orelia didn’t bother looking at the woman. She knew the question was directed at Vade. He responded, but she was too focused on shoveling food into her mouth to care.
It’d been weeks since she’d had a proper meal. Jobless, and with her poorly growing garden, she’d been reduced to bread and the occasional tomato. Orelia hadn’t touched the emergency jar of fermented olives in her kitchen, though if she hadn’t been forced to leave Minro, the jar surely would have been empty by now.
“Slow down and enjoy it,” Vade said over the rim of his mug.
“I can’t. It’s so damn good. So flavorful.” A piece of pork fell out of her mouth and plopped onto the plate.
Vade chuckled into his drink.
