The innkeeper turned to go, but Mathos called him back. “What did you think I was here for?”
He held out a wiry thumb and gestured back over his shoulder to the man now snoring in the corner. “Thought you were here for him.”
“Why in the kingdom would I be here for him?” Mathos asked.
The innkeeper shrugged. “Thought you were a friend. Not a problem either way. I’ll get you that stew.”
Mathos sat back in his chair, determined not to get involved. A minute dragged by, and then another, his mind filled with Lucy. Lucy smiling. Lucy gripping the back of the chair. Lucy turning away, that one tear tracking down her cheek.
His beast said nothing at all, and the silence pressed heavily down on him, suffocating him.
Fuck, he had to do something, anything, to make some noise.
He pushed his chair back and strode to the corner, wondering how the hell he got into these situations.
Before he even got there, he knew. He hadn’t seen it from further away, that ring of tarnished indigo scales, but now he was closer, he couldn’t miss it. And he knew exactly who it was.
He bent down, right to the man’s ear, and then shouted in his best parade voice, “Attention! To the front… Salute!”
Reece was out of his chair, his right-hand forefinger almost to his eye, when he fully woke up and realized where he was. He stumbled back, and Mathos put a hand out to stabilize him, but Reece pulled his arm back with a vicious snarl. “What the fuck, Mathos?”
Mathos snorted grimly. “Expecting someone else?”
Reece looked him up and down and then glared at the smirking men around them before sinking back into his seat. “Why are you here?”
“Same as you.”
“What?” Reece’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You fucked the wrong woman, she turned out to be a vicious harpy, you single-handedly almost caused the death of everyone in your squad and, just to round it off, insulted the Princess of Verturia?”
“No.” Mathos sank into the chair next to him. “Far worse than that. Nothing you did was your fault. I’ve told you that about a hundred times. Well, except for insulting Alanna, and she forgave you for that.”
He lifted his hand to rub his eyes and then dropped it again when he remembered his claws. “I, however….” Gods. Where to even start.
Reece raised skeptical eyebrows over his puffy, reddened eyes. “Oh please. Mr. Charm himself. What did you do? Flirt with Nim? Kiss Keely in front of Tor? Or did Tristan get sick of your never-ending disregard for his orders?”
He could tell a joke, say something amusing, and Reece would drop it. But what was the point?
“I was supposed to keep the queen safe, but instead I got her caught by Dornar. I eventually helped her escape and took her into the woods, where I seduced her. Then I told her to be the queen when I knew it was the last thing she wanted. When we got back, I—” His voice cracked. “I broke her heart, blamed Tristan, and was discharged from the Blues.”
“Fuck,” Reece whispered, wiping the back of his hand over his blurry eyes.
“Yes. Fuck.”
The innkeeper bustled over with the stew and ale. Mathos fished out another coin, studiously ignoring the other contents of his pouch. And his claws. “And a meal for my friend, please. No ale.”
“Fuck you,” Reece snarled, and then closed his mouth when he saw the claws. But he took the stew when it was delivered. The two of them sat side by side in silence as they ate, each alone with his thoughts.
Mathos pushed his empty bowl away. “Why are you here?”
“Nowhere else to go. Kaerlud still feels more like home than anywhere else. And then this was the last place….”
“Yeah.” Mathos knew exactly what he meant.
“What are you going to do now?” Reece asked.
“Don’t know.” Mathos shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to find a job.” The very thought made him want to vomit. What did he know, other than how to fail spectacularly at estate management and being a soldier?
“You could go back home. At least you have one.”
