“I don’t care if you’re the prince himself. No driver is going out in this weather. Half of them are drunk in the pub and the other half are in for the night. Weather like this spooks the horses.”
“Please—” Emmett tries once more, but she cuts him off.
“You’re in luck, though.” The foundation of the inn creaks as it sways in the force of the storm. “I have one room left. It’s all yours if you want it, milord.”
I choke back a laugh, though exactly none of this is funny.
Emmett turns for the door. “No thank you. We’ll walk.”
He wrenches the door open, and we walk back into the storm.Immediately I’m thrown back with the gale force of the wind. The rain pierces my face, and my already sodden hem becomes so heavy it’s hard to move.
I take two steps before the toe of my boot catches against a pit in the road and I trip directly into a puddle. I land on my knees with asplat, and Emmett rushes to my side.
“You may walk home,” I shout over the thunder as I push myself to my feet, ignoring his outstretched hand, “but I am taking that room.” Better ruined than frozen to death.
I march back into the inn, muddier than before, with an exasperated Emmett at my heels.
I slap my wet hands down on the counter. “We’ll take the room.”
The innkeeper looks at me smugly. “I assume you’re married?” she asks, like she knows we’re not.
Emmett makes an unintelligible noise of protest behind me, but I just smile sweetly and say, “Blissful newlyweds.”
The innkeeper’s quill is poised over her register. “Names?”
Emmett shoots me a glare, then says, “Fern and Edward Bennett. From Nottingham.”
“Eight shillings.”
Emmett fishes out some money. Eight little portraits of Queen Moryen on the coins stare up at us judgmentally from the counter.
The innkeeper turns and pulls the last remaining key off of a pegboard behind the desk. “Come with me.”
The inn is overly warm with so many bodies packed inside. We pass through the raucous pub and follow the owner up a rickety flight of threadbare stairs.
My wet dress must weigh at least ten pounds, and even with the heat of the inn, I’m shivering against its cold weight.
We’re led up to the third floor, and though I don’t look, I can feel Emmett glowering behind me.
The woman unlocks the door with aclickand waves us inside.
The door shuts behind her with athunk, and we are alone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I smack Emmett on the shoulder, his jacket so wet it squishes under the force of my palm. “Fern?”
“It was the closest I could think to Ivy.”
“Isolde, Isabelle, Imogen?”
“You make a more believable Fern.”
I huff and go to throw another log on the weak fire.
Will I be kicked out of the competition immediately?I wonder. Publicly shamed like my sister, destined to spend the rest of my life crying into a pillow, alone in a dark room? Strung up at Traitors’ Gate like the rebels Eduart described? Or maybe the queen will keep me around. She does love to play with her food.
Emmett is silent as he takes a seat by the fire, soaked clothes and all. He drops his head into his hands and goes completely still.
