I sat through the meal that followed and contributed minimally to the conversation, in a way that didn't prompt questions. I felt it the whole time, the quality of being watched that had nothing to do with the people at the table.
Not from inside the inn. From outside. From the city itself. From whatever had come out of that building, moved through those streets, and might or might not have registered the spike of magic on a corner three blocks from the institution.
I thought about saying something.
I thought about all the reasons I wouldn't.
Nicco had never asked directly. I'd never answered directly. That was an arrangement we'd both reached without discussing it, probably the only kind either of us trusted. But he knew. I was almost certain he knew.
I looked up and caught him watching me. I held his gaze until he looked away.
“I need to sleep,” he said suddenly. He scratched his beard. “I also need to shave,” he added ruefully. “Baxley, you got your razor?”
He confirmed he did, and we watched them both leave.
“That was weird,” Larana muttered as she watched them disappear. She turned to me. “Was that weird?”
“I… I don’t know.”
She frowned. “It was weird.” She sighed, then looked at me. “You look… off. What is it?” She glanced back at the stairs. “Did something happen with you two?”
I shook my head. “You mean?—”
She sighed loudly. “You two and your constant bickering, you need to just be friends.”
“Friends?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, acquaintances! But seriously, you need to stop this” —she waved her hand in the air— “thing you do.”
“I didn’t know we did a thing.”
She grunted and rolled her eyes again. “Stay.” She pushed herself to her feet, and I watched her stop to talk to one of the serving girls. The girl looked over, and they bowed their heads together. I dreaded whatever they were concocting. I needed Baxley for interference, or Nicco to put a stop to whatever was about to happen.
Larana came back with two mugs in her hand. She plopped one down in front of me. “Drink.”
“What is it?”
“It’s not rat piss. Drink it.”
“You convinced me,” I deadpanned. I picked up the mug, and it was warm. I sniffed it tentatively. It had a sharp but sweet scent. “Will I like it?”
“Drink it and tell me.”
Maybe she was related to Nicco? A cousin, maybe?
I took a sip. I drank it. It was warm and sweet, nothing like anything I'd had before. I sat with the cup in my hands and felt its warmth move through my chest alongside the other warmth, the one that had been humming quietly since the column and was sharper now since this afternoon.
“You look like someone seeing rain for the first time,” Larana said with a sly smile.
“I've seen rain,” I told her, knowing I sounded defensive.
“Not like the rain in Florlunia.” She looked out the window at the dark beyond. “Wait until spring comes properly. The rain in Florlunia is different from anywhere else. It's warm.”
I tried to imagine warm rain, but couldn't quite picture it.
“You've traveled a lot.” I looked around the inn at all the travelers like us. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy it? Sometimes.” She looked at her own cup. “I do travel a lot, I guess. More than I want to, some years. Less than I need to, others.”
