The tavern he takes me to is tucked into a crooked street corner, lanterns swaying in the night breeze. Inside, warmth and noise hit like a wave. There’s music from a lute in the corner, fae and human voices shouting over each other, and the smell of sweat and roasted meat.
We choosea corner booth. A server appears, a sharp-eyed woman with ink curling up her arms.
“Two ales,” Torin says without hesitation. “And food. Anything. Whatever’s hot.”
I lift a brow. “We just left a feast.”
He leans back with a grin. “I can still eat. Besides, the food here tastes better.”
The woman leaves, returning a few minutes later with the drinks.
“So,” Torin says after a swig of ale, “training with Serenya. How’d that go?”
I bark a laugh. “Terrifying. She’s deadly with a blade, but scarier when you screw up. It’s like she’s got a personal vendetta against mistakes.”
Torin chuckles, nodding. “Always been that way. But if she’s hard on you, it’s because she wants you to survive. She doesn’t want anyone else dying on her watch.”
“Yeah, right. She hates me. Pretty sure that rule doesn’t apply to me.”
His smile fades. “She might not like you, but she still wants you to succeed. She’s not as awful as you might think.”
I lift a brow. “I don’t know about that.”
Something in his face hardens. Not against me exactly, but turning protective, like a brother ready to bare his teeth. “She cares. She’s just…” He looks down at his cup, hesitating as if he doesn't know if he should keep going. “She’s lived through too much tragedy. What she’s been through…” He sighs. “It’s changed her.”
The words hit deeper than I want to admit. I stay quiet, the ale bitter on my tongue.
“She’s not awful, Koen,” he repeats softly. “She’s a ghost of herself trying to find her way back. She just needs help. So go easy on her. Even if she won’t go easy on you…and she won’t.”
I blow out a slow breath. “She’s kinda mean, though.”
That earns me a laugh, sharp and real. “That she is.”
I smirk despite myself.
The moment passes as the server returns with the food and another round of drinks. We let the conversation shift to lighter topics—training mishaps, old stories from his childhoodwith Serenya and Alira, small jokes that don’t carry the heaviness of before. Oddly, it feels normal, like we’ve done this a million times before.
Eventually, we rise to leave. I’m relaxed enough to think the night has been a good one, until a shoulder slams into mine, hard.
“Oi!” a slurred voice barks.
Already bristling, I turn to find a broad-shouldered fae glaring at me with unfocused eyes. His cheeks are flushed from too much ale, his breath sour.
His face twists. “Did you—” He jabs a finger into my chest, nearly toppling from the motion. “You just bumped into me,human.”
Torin steps forward, palms raised. “Easy, friend. No harm done.”
Another man appears beside the first, equally drunk and unsteady. His gaze sweeps over us, narrowing when it catches on Torin’s clothes. “Palace boys. Thinkyou’re better than us, don’t you?”
I mutter under my breath, “Here we go.”
The first one shoves me, and my patience snaps. I catch his wrist, twist, and shove him back into a table. The tavern goes still, every eye on us.
“Shouldn’t have done that,” the second drunk snarls and swings at Torin.
Torin ducks, grinning like a lunatic. “Finally,” he chuckles, before slamming his fist into the man’s jaw.
Chaos erupts.
