“And your fantasies of me stripping you bare are such an improvement from mine,” I hiss and step away.
Kaelzar snorts. “They would be.”
I whirl on him. “What can you possibly impress me with standing naked in the middle of an alley?”
Kaelzar raises an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward.
It takes me a moment too long to realize what he’s implying, and my cheeks burn. I grunt, twirling on my feet to avoid him noticing and stride for the doors of the inn.
Inside, the space is filled with so much life, I pause to absorb it. Every table is occupied, brimming with cups of ale and spirits, unfinished plates of food, and card games.
A pianist in the corner plays and sings an outrageously obscene bar song, with some of the patrons singing along in all the wrong notes but laughing at the most illicit words.
The Divinity Gaze above my head has dulled to a faintly glowing mirror. I stride toward the bar, where Micheline, the barmaid, is already shifting patrons aside to clear a seat for me.
But then I pause. Kaelzar's presence is so close behind me, he might as well be pressed against my back.
Or maybe it’s the weight of the stares. Heads turning, eyes flicking from me to him then away, quickly, as if just looking at him scorched their sight. I turn, finding myself chest-to-chest with him.
I look up.
His hood is pulled low, hiding his face again. But I know he’s watching me. I feel it like an invisible tether anchored to my spine.
“I needalonetime with my friend,” I say.
“Then you shouldn’t have come here,” he replies.
“Fine,” I snap. “I need time with my friend without you hovering over us. If you’ve suddenly decided that you can’t leave my side ever again, you can find yourself a corner and wait there patiently like a good beastie.”
An annoyed grumble from beneath his hood is answer enough.
I turn away, drop into the empty seat at the bar, and reach for the waiting glass filled with cherry-red wine. I take three gulps before offering Micheline a nod of thanks.
Her white hair is cut to frame a sharp jaw, and her nearly black eyes are always watchful, always knowing. She’s a few years older than me. Her sister, who died in Rust Hollow, once knew my mother. That thread of connection, however thin, was enough to draw me to Micheline, even if she knows little about her.
She met Peonica through her sister, and it was Peonica who introduced us, back when I needed help getting food into Rust Hollow. Micheline became my partner in that quiet effort.
“You looked like you needed it,” Micheline says with a grin, sliding the glass closer. Then her gaze drops to my hands. “I saw through the Divinity Gazes that you don't need the gloves anymore. It’s been the juiciest gossip for the past hour.” She tilts her head toward the room behind me.
I glance back. At least five people instantly snap their heads away, pretending they weren’t staring.
The rest go on with their drinking and gambling, laughter rising over the clatter of dice and mugs. No flinches when I walked in. No wary glances. No subtle steps back.
As if my presence here doesn’t unsettle them. It’s strange. Strange enough to make me squirm. But also… kind of good.
I turn back and press my fingers against the bar, flexing them slightly, feeling the cool wood beneath my bare skin.
“I hope so,” I murmur. “I haven’t tested it on anyone but my Godbeast.”
Micheline studies my hands for a moment, then nods, accepting itwithout pressing further. “Wouldn’t you have rotted him if you couldn’t control it? He’s… kind of a human, isn’t he?”
“Who knows what he is,” I say, taking another long gulp. But the drink doesn’t smooth over the question. Who is my Godbeast?
“What should I send him?” She jerks her chin toward the hulking, hooded figure sitting in the darkest corner of the bar, which suddenly became vacant.
Despite the distance, I still feel him, as if his gaze alone can reach across the space and wrap around my throat. The urge to glance back is strong. I resist.
“A bowl of water,” I say. “Put it outside next to the horses’ stall.”
