“Alaya! What are you doing here?” he cries.
“Do I need a reason to visit?” I ask, tilting my chin down just enough to force an upward, wounded gaze, deliberately framed by my long lashes.
“Nope, just didn’t expect to see you here so late.” He laughs.
“I’ve had an awful day. I was hoping to catch you before you leave. Fancy taking me down to this tavern everyone raves about?”
He looks at me quizzically for a moment—I guess he’s trying to see if I was being serious. Then he breaks into a grin.
“Absolutely! Let me just wash up here real quick, and we can go. Are you sure about this, Alaya? It can get quite rowdy in there,” he says, searching my face for an answer.
“I’m tired of hiding in that damn castle like a caged bird. My life is about to change in so many ways—I just want to forget it for a while. Can we just pretend for tonight, Hel? Can we just be two normal Fae out for some fun?” I sigh.
“We can be whoever we want to be,” he yells, arms outstretched as he spins away and goes up to his apartment above the stables; and I smile after him, a warm feeling flooding my body.
Within ten minutes he’s back, looking a little fresher, with a clean blue-checked shirt over blue pants, and his hair dampened flat.
“So, who are we tonight? Sir Marcus, the ruggedly handsome Warrior and his beautiful damsel, Lady Evangeline? Or perhaps Zak and Penny, the carefree couple out for some fun?” Heller asks as he turns off the lights and we leave the stables.
“Oh, I like the sound of Zak and Penny.” I agree, looping my arm around his.
“So, what has you coming down to slum it with the stable hand? I’ve tried to get you to come out with me before. What’s changed?”
I explain the Throne Room incident and the weird meeting with King Malaxor. He goes quiet.
“But we are forgetting that tonight, Zak,” I say, trying to lighten the tension.
“Sure, Penny, let’s go and get you drunk.” He grabs my hand, pulling me towards the residential area.
The Golden Horse is located amongst the small stone cottages of the working Fae, along with various shops and other buildings. I start to feel a little apprehensive as it comes in sight. I have never been in this part of the castle grounds.
“Will you get into trouble for bringing me in here? You know I’m not well received by other Earthbound Fae,” I ask tentatively.
“Then we will create our own fun. If anyone gives you any trouble, they have me to deal with.”
Heller pushes his shoulder against the door and drags me into the small wooden building, the sounds of laughter and chattering and the smell of malty Ale and Fae Wine.
As we enter, the conversations quieten in an instant, and many of the patrons turn and stare. Heller quickly ushers me into a dark booth at the back.
“I’ll be back in a second, I promise.”
I feel uncomfortable as the Fae continue to stare and whisper, but true to his word, Heller is back in a flash with two slopping tankards of brown liquid and a wide grin on his face.
As he sits, the bartender gestures to the gathered Fae. The buzz of conversation rises, and they go back to whatever they were doing before we entered.
“I had a word with Ned, the barman. Assured him we didn’t want any trouble, just out to enjoy some good company and debatable Ale.” He grins, picking up a tankard and taking a long pull of his drink. When he puts it down, froth coats his upper lip and I giggle at him.
“Is that what this is?” I ask, looking down at the frothy liquid in the tankard Heller has placed in front of me.
“Try it. Get through the first bitter taste, and it gets better. After three or four, you kind of forget what you are drinking anyway.” He chuckles, wiping the froth from his upper lip with his shirt sleeve.
I take a sip and nearly spit it back out over him as the bitter taste hits my throat. He laughs, and we fall into an easy conversation. I love hearing him talk about his work with thehorses, and I mainly listen, asking the odd question here and there.
He tells me how his favourite horses have been recently—that the chestnut mare Clover has been stubborn refusing to stand still for saddling and the old grey gelding Hercules has been having difficulty eating. His eyes light up when he talks about them, and I can hear the genuine affection in his voice.
I feel the Ale warming me from the inside out, loosening the tight knot of tension I’ve been carrying in my chest. My shoulders drop, my breathing slows, and for the first time in ages, I don’t feel quite so isolated or alone. There’s something comforting about this moment—the simple pleasure of conversation, of being heard, of connecting with another person without pretence or pressure.
“It’s getting quite late, can I walk you back?” Heller asks as the tavern is emptying out.
