I didn’t trust it for a moment. Ease was a lie. Ease was a trap. There was no peace for me, especially not with her.
“Follow me,” I told her, slowing my pace to ensure she was in my sight at all times. These places were the most risky for her trying to escape—or another Elessarum member recognizing me and assuming she needed aid.
Especially with the color of her irises.
People stared at us as we crossed the cobbled square to the largest tavern, our dark cloaks pulled high. At least there, we’d go unnoticed among the midday crowd.
I held the door for her so she could hobble inside. Noise assaulted my ears immediately.
Nearly every table was packed, males and females laughing and carrying on wild conversations, shouting to be heard. The group of workers sat close to the bar, their table already overflowing with pints of ale.
I placed my hand on Sylaira’s lower back—out of protection or possession, I wasn’t sure—and guided her to a booth in the corner. She obeyed, for once without fighting me, and shuffled into one side. I took her wooden supports and leaned them against the wall beside me. In this position, I had a good view of everyone in the room. And Sylaira was hidden from prying eyes.
A barmaid approached, wiping her hands on her apron. “We’ve got a chicken and fried plantain dish or palm salad with shrimp.”
“We’ll have chicken,” I told her, digging in my pocket for a silver wing.
“Anything to drink?”
“Water,” I replied, plopping the coin in her hand. Unlike the obnoxious males on the other side of the room, I would be maintaining my composure.
My mate shot me a glare as the female walked away. “I could have ordered for myself.”
“You could have,” I replied coolly, lowering my hood and leaning back against the tavern wall.
“You didn’t give me a chance,” she shot back, nostrils flaring.
I shrugged. “Didn’t want you to.”
“Why, because the salad would have been so much more expensive, and you’d have wasted all your riches on it?” she taunted, crossing her arms.
“Precisely,” I replied, the corners of my mouth lifting.
She huffed, as she always did when she was annoyed with me.
“What is your favorite food?” I asked her, trying to changethe subject. With how busy it was, there was no telling how long we’d have to wait. The last few days, Sylaira had offered me nibbles of her mind, around which she otherwise kept a firm barricade.
My mate looked off into the distance as she thought. “River fish. Of any type. The flakiness, how they melt in your mouth if cooked just right…” She sighed, then dropped her head to her chest. Sorrow rippled down our bond, a soft, aching note that exposed my true mate beneath the mask of defiance. “My mother used to make the most incredible sauce to go with it too. I never learned the recipe. Now I’ll never taste it again.”
Fuck.
Guilt, hot and sharp, roiled in my stomach. An emotion I should definitelynotbe feeling.
“When did she die?” I asked, because it was better if I had a full account of my sins against my mate.
“Two years ago in a raid on one of the Elessarum’s largest strongholds,” she whispered. And when she lifted her gaze, the tears in her eyes gutted me like I was one of those river fish being prepared for lunch.
I remembered that day, distinctly. The horror of it stuck with me, even now. The screams as the hunting hounds sank their teeth into the calves of fleeing Angels. How my soldiers had put countless to death.
Iaoth never liked when we offered the Elessarum a pyre.
But that day, I’d insisted on one for each person who perished.
“You were there?” I asked. My sister had suspected the presence of powerful Seers, but when I returned without any, she’d thrown so many priceless vases at me that I’d had to Command her to stop. Which only made the price I paid for my failure that much steeper. And we’d been speaking privately. Had the wholecourt witnessed it, well, I didn’t want to think about what the consequences would have been.
She nodded, dashing the backs of her hands across her cheeks. “Zuriel, Heraphia, and I barely managed to get away. My parents,” she looked to the ceiling, blinking back more tears, “sacrificed themselves to allow us a chance to escape. They held the door to the stables shut while we rode into the training ring. We used our magic to blast open a hole in the fence. Galloped into the woods, the cries of those we loved chasing us just as much as the hunters were.”
I blew out a long breath. “I am sorry, Sylaira.” The words tasted wrong on my tongue, but they were true.
