Taila sets her cup down and leans in. “Hewasthere,” she confirms. “I saw him too. Walked in, scanned the room, and then—boom—eyes locked right on you. Whatever reason he had for showing up, he definitely took the opportunity to sneak a peek.”
I roll my eyes. “I couldn’t have been doing anything interesting. Sitting?! Eating?!”
“Exactly,” Darius says, giving me a look. “You weren’t doing anything—and he was definitely doing something. Like staring.”
Fenric lifts his glass again. “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.”
I shake my head, but they’re all looking at me with the same amused, knowing expressions. “You’re all reading way too much into this. He’s my trainer. He’s serious. He barely even looks at anyone.”
Fenric smirks. “Except you, apparently.”
“Speaking of Thane,” Taila says suddenly, her voice low but sharp with interest.
All of us follow her gaze to the entrance of the pub. The door swings open with a creak, letting in a gust of cool spring air—and in walk Garrick, Jarek, Rian . . . and Thane.
My heart does something unhelpful in my chest.
They’re all dressed down, like the rest of us—simple button-down shirts, boots, no leathers in sight—but somehow Thane still manages to look like a warlord who could silence a room with a glance. His eyes scan the pub once before he starts moving toward an open table across the room, his brothers flanking him.
“I didn’t know hedidpubs,” Lyra mutters, straightening in her chair.
I don’t say anything, but I’m thinking the same thing. Thane always seemed like the kind of person who prefers quiet strategy rooms or private training halls—not crowded, noisy places like this.
Fenric nudges me under the table. “Still think we’re reading too much into things?”
“He’s just here to unwind,” I say quickly. “With his friends. Like us and everyone else.”
“Mhm,” Taila hums. “And yet, out of every table in this place, Iswearhe glanced this way first.”
I keep my gaze locked on my plate, refusing to check if he’s looking. Part of me wants to check. But that same part is afraid he’ll catch me looking back.
“Can wepleasechange the subject?” I plead, heat creeping up the back of my neck.
Lyra laughs, holding up her hands. “Fine, fine! No more Warlord talk—at least for now.” She leans back in her chair and takes a sip of her ale. “So, where do you guys want to go after this?”
“Ooh, that little bookshop on the corner,” Taila says immediately. “The one with the spiral staircase and the grumpy old cat. I want to see if they’ve gotten anything new in.”
“You just want to pet the cat,” Fenric teases.
Taila gasps, hands to her cheeks. “Have youseenhim? He’s a little orange fluff-demon of perfection!”
“I wouldn’t mind stopping by the blacksmith,” Darius adds.“The owner mentioned getting in some new dagger styles. I want to check them out.”
“What about you, Mara? Anywhere you want to go?” Lyra asks.
I shrug, grateful for the change in topic. “Honestly? I’m good with wherever. Maybe the apothecary? I’m running low on salves.”
“Ooh, the one with the herbal candies?” Taila perks up. “I like the mint ones—like biting into a snowflake.”
Fenric groans. “Please tell me we’re not doing the ‘let’s sniff everything in the apothecary’ trip again.”
“We’re absolutely doing that,” I say with a grin.
Darius drops his arm from Fenric’s shoulders and turns to look at him, one brow raised. “The woman who runs the apothecary wants a roll in bed with you, my dearest Fenric.”
He says it so matter-of-factly. Fenric doesn’t miss a beat. He gestures to himself with both hands—his perfectly tousled hair, his striking features, his warrior-toned body.
“Of courseshe does.”
