“‘You’ve got it.” She glanced over my shoulder, and her lips twitched. “Probably for the best. The only open seat is right beside your favorite crimson-haired brewmaster. ‘Course…it’s nice and warm in here, and you’d have a—”
“Not happening, Nilsa.” Tensing, I fought the urge to follow her gaze. I should have known Ragnar would be in here. I’d passed his wagon on the way into the village, and I’d tried not to look at it. But my eyes had betrayed me. While I hadn’t spotted him, I’d assumed he’d gone inside his wagon.
With a wicked chuckle, Nilsa winked and vanished through the double doors that led to the kitchen. Rolling my eyes, I settled onto the stool beside the counter and pointedly ignored the tables. I didn’t know where Ragnar was sitting, and I didn’t want to find out. Seeing him relaxed in the cheerful inn, surrounded by laughter and song and hearth-flame, was the last thing I wanted.
Heavy footsteps thudded against the stone floor. I kept my gaze rooted to the kitchen entrance,willingNilsa to reappear with my bowl of stew so I could get out of here. But the wooden doors were as motionless as wheels stuck in mud. The footsteps slowed the closer they got until the sound vanished entirely.
“Lilia,” a now-familiar voice said.
I ground my teeth. Somehow, I’d known it was him. “Hello, Ragnar. You should probably return to your seat. It’s so busy in here you’ll lose it if you leave it too long.”
“I’m done eating now.”
Out of their own volition, my eyes drifted toward his face. He stood over me—towered, really. His broad shoulders blocked out the rest of the inn, and something about his insistent presence seemed to suck away all of the sound. He ran a hand through his thick, wavy hair, his forearm flexing.
Pulse quickening, I stood. “Well, the bard is only getting started. Her name is Birta. Have you ever heard of her? She’s local to Riverwold, but she does travel from time to time. She’s one of the best bards in all the Isles. You really ought to stay and listen.”
He shrugged his hands into his trouser pockets. “If you insist.”
My shoulders relaxed. I opened my mouth to reply, but Nilsa finally returned. She bustled over and handed me a bowl covered by a round plank of wood to keep the stew warm on my return walk. I thanked her and started to go, but Ragnar shifted to the side, blocking me.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I frowned at him. “Back to my wagon. I’m tired, and it’s been a long day.”
“Aren’t you staying here? At the inn, I mean.”
“There are no vacancies. Now please move aside.”
As I darted around him, he rubbed the back of his neck, frowning.
I was glad when he made no attempt to block me again. I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I was tired. The utter exhaustion was like five different anchors connected to my body, dragging me into the ground. Bone-weary, I trudged out the door and back into the cold.
When I returned to St. Olaf Row, my wagon was just as I’d left it. I opened the creaking doors and climbed inside, settling against my barrels of ale so I could tuck into my stew. The beans were rich and spicy, and steam filled the air. I polished it off far too quickly, but the warmth lingered while I spread out my bedroll in the small gap of space between my kegs and my other merchant supplies.
I closed my eyes and pulled my blanket up to my chin. But even wrapped in layers, the wintry night soon settled over me, burrowing its biting chill into my skin. I longed to climb the mountain path, find Reykur, and curl nearby his sleeping form. But it was late and it was dark, and by the time I found him, dawn would pinken the sky.
I had to spend the night cold and bitterly alone. For the first time in a long while, my heart ached for company.
6
LILIA
An explosion of sound dragged me awake. Grumbling, I sat up and rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of things. It was silent now, but I could have sworn… Shaking my head, I started to curl up beneath my blanket again, but a burst of thunder shuddered through the wagon, making me jump.
No, not thunder.The pounding was the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting wood.
I threw open the doors and poked my head out the back. Nilsa paused, her fist raised. She gave me a sheepish look.
“Oh. You look like you were asleep. Did I wake you?” she asked sweetly.
I patted down my mussed hair. “It’s fine. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She rocked back on her heels, the bells in her braid jingling. “Just thought you might want to come on inside where it’s warm. Turns out I was confused. A room’s available after all.”
“Wait.” I blinked at her. Was I still dreaming? “How’d you get something like that wrong?”
She shrugged. “Well, Herold does their best, but it’s been so busy, they marked a room taken when it wasn’t! I didn’t notice until dinner service calmed down. I had a couple others asking about it, but I told them it was yours.” Her eyes flicked to the interior of the wagon, where my bedroll snaked between my tightly packed supplies. “Looks cold in there. Come on in, eh?”
