“I see a lot of people.” The man drolls.
I bite down on my lip, my fingers flexing against the wood. “I’m sure that you do. But this man isdifferent. Blonde hair, shifty blue eyes, pale skin. He’d be lacking in the…” I gesture at his person, and his gaze drops down to look at himself, “local attire.”
“He may have even had a small woman on his arm? Dark hair, bright eyes, snake tattoos you can’t miss.” Bennett adds.
The barman’s face lights up at the descriptions, and he straightens his posture. “Foreigners, ah? Lots of foreigners round these parts, alright?” He sucks on his teeth and tilts his head, wiping the counter down haphazardly. “But if I uh – see your man, I’ll give you a holler.” He gives us a false grin before waltzing away.
My hold on the counter grows tighter, the wood splintering underneath my palms. Bennett’s head snaps down, and he sets his hand on top of my knuckles, trying to peel each finger up. “Property damage isn’t going to help.” He whispers and chucks his chin to our left, “look.”
I angle my head to find a smallish man against the far wall, looking nervously in our direction before darting out of the backdoors.Interesting. I muse. “Bennett, I think we just found who I plan to talk to next.”
Eveera
My head feels like someone has jammed a thousand pins into it, and while the two men hoveringthinkthey’re being quiet, their voices might as well be two knives spearing into my eardrums.
“Is she dead?”
THWACK!“No! She’s not dead… at least I don’t think she’s dead. What would we do if she were dead?”
“I’m not dead, and your whisper volumes are fucking loud.” I groan, tossing my arm over my eyes, the heavy weight of the shackle pulling my wrist down with the motion.
That hurts too. Everything hurts.Whydoes everything hurt?
“Pity.” I hear the deeper voice say before the sound of retreating footsteps comes. I slowly move my arm down to lay across my chest, then crack an eye open.
The pure brightness streaming into the room draws a hiss from my lips. “How long?” I grumble, my throat raw.
“Oh, well, er– you fell asleep on the shower floor. Or maybe you passed out. Either way, we found you… indisposed,”great,“on the ground, and so we brought you in here. You’ve been asleep for about two days.”
I lift the sheet and find myself still partially wrapped in the towel they must have haphazardly put me in. Gross.
“I would have washed your clothes for you, but they were pretty torn up.” There’s a tremor in his voice, he’s nervous, and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t get a thrill from it. A slight remembrance of how so often people couldn’t look in my direction without shaking, let alone speak with me. “There are some things at the foot of the bed, for you instead.”
I crack open the other eye and prop myself up to look at the end of the mattress. Sure enough, there’s a small stack of clothes in an assortment of beige and brown. “Thank you…”
“I guessed your size,” Devlen replies, quickly ducking out of the room, and leaving me to figure out if I can even move. My limbs are a strange mixture of lead and liquid.
Pushing the sheet back, I pull my legs over to the side of the bed and brace the edge of the mattress. My wild curls spill out in front of my face like a curtain, as my head hangs between my shoulders. It takes me a moment to gather my bearings, while I decide if I want to move any further from this spot. I stretch my arm out and reach for the clothes lying there.
Pulling the tunic over my head was taxing, but trying to tug on the tight-fitting pants knocked whatever breath was left in me, right out. I cinch the waist of the loose shirt with the wide leather belt and adjust the collar around my throat, the lace edging tickling the underside of my chin.
There’s a skirt here as well, but if I am planning on any kind of traveling, skirts should never be a part of the picture.
I grab the knee-high boots and secure my mass of hair up with a rogue piece of ribbon. I don’t bother checking my appearance and head straight out into the main area of the home.
Both Caz and Devlen are in deep conversation when I walk out of the hall, Devlen’s head peeking around his companion once he catches sight of me. “Ah – there she is.” He chirps, bringing me a glass of water. “Feeling more up to it?”
“I feel like I’ve been lobotomized.”
His tongue clicks in response, backing away to take in my full appearance, eyes catching on the manacles. He motions me over to the counter, where Caz is sulking, and pulls out a stool for me. “Ah-hem. So… apologies for the accommodations, it’s not exactly fit for royalty.” Devlen says, breaking the brief silence.
I take a long gulp of water and prop my elbows on top of the counter. “It’s fine – I haven’t exactly had ‘royal treatment’ the past few… however long it’s been.” I quip.
His mouth parts a little, and he turns back to look at Caz, who remains stoic and unimpressed. “If that’s true, we should be bringing you to the Consulate, not the edge of the city.”
My shoulders lift nonchalantly. “Sure, if you want to alert the entire fucking realm that I’m here, go right ahead.”
“There have to be people looking for you… right?”
