Javi nodded, but Risa took a step back, her hold around Brunie tightening. “Dance?” she asked.
“Have you ever heard of an outlaw who could dance?”
“He has a point,” the prince confirmed.
Risa guffawed at the words, the sound turning into a full-on squeal when Javi took her free hand and pulled her close, slipping his other hand around her waist. She had no time to pull away or give him a proper scolding as he swept her into a twirl that stole her breath. The moves were incomprehensible to her; she tripped over her own feet as he guided them in an effortless whirl over the scuffed wooden floors of the inn, each step in time with the increasing pitch of Brunie’s yowling.
When they stopped, the innkeeper’s leathery face broke into an impish smile, the brackets around his mouth deepened, and his brown eyes twinkled with uncontained mirth. Before Risa could say a word, his bushy brows and matching mustache wiggled.
“There’s only one room.”
“I am apromisedman,” Javi said in mock affront.
Risa glanced at the room rates scribbled on the back of an old wanted poster, the redXfaintly visible. “Your virtue is safe with me,” she told Javi, reaching into her pack for the pouch of reales she’d taken from her family’s safe. She handed a silver real to the man, who pocketed it instead of placing it in the wooden till.
“I’ve been known to be irresistible,” Javi told the innkeeper with a suggestive eyebrow.
Risa took the key from the sniggering innkeeper. Turning to Javi, she leveled him with a narrowed gaze and ignored the shaky breath he took in response.
“You needn’t worry. Your wiles have no effect.”
He gave her a faint, spluttering laugh. “I’ve noticed.”
The innkeeper rattled off the advantages of staying at the only inn in Spearbelly. There were but a few robberies a week. A measly dozen a month, which was, at the very least, four timeslessthan outside its walls. Plus, the inn provided free breakfast ale made from grapes, which Risa suspected was just wine.
After the unconvincing spiel, the pair made their way up the cramped, rickety stairs, wood groaning with every step. Antique brass sconces cast shadows on the faded yellow wallpaper, though a few were missing, remnants of their existence left in the nails still hammered in the wall. Every few feet, a rectangle of less-faded wallpaper stood out, where a painting once hung before it’d been carried off by a thief or ripped to shreds by a wayward knife.
Their room was in the middle of the hallway, boding either well for them or not well at all. Risa jiggled the key in the lock before itgave a loud creak in protest and opened. It would make a good alert if anyone bothered to come in that way.
It was a small chamber—stuffy with warm, stagnant air—and had barely enough room for a solitary cot. A moth-eaten armchair was tucked into a corner where the wallpaper had been slashed. The window was barred with iron to deter thieves and murderous ruffians, though that meant it blocked their only exit besides the door. The floor was littered with scuffs and drag marks, while vague brown spots suggested that many violent events had occurred within the four walls.
Seeing the room in its bare, ramshackle splendor made Risa miss her childhood bedroom. The years she’d spent turning it into the one place where she could be herself, away from the prying eyes of her town and her parents, a monster playing the part of a lonely girl. The green walls, the plush bed, the collection of witchtraps kept hidden beneath a floorboard in case her mother walked in. For seventeen years, she’d considered it a comfortable cage, but there were worse things.
Fatigue dulled the edges of her vision and settled over her. She wanted to crawl under the thin quilt, lie down on the narrow cot, and sleep for a hundred years.
She opened the window as far as it would go, sending dust motes dancing in the midafternoon light. Outside, she had a good view of the stables behind the inn, where a few snorting horses sniffed at their troughs. Otherwise, the back alley was empty, and their conversation would go unheard by nosy outlaws eager to make a few reales from Javi’s pretty head.
“The Wolf asked us to meet her at midnight,” she informed the prince, hip against the windowsill.
He frowned at that. “Should we? Sheisan outlaw…” Javi settled in the armchair, Brunie following after him. The cat climbed into Javi’s lap, tail twitching as the prince stroked his back in idle contemplation. “Though she can’t be any older than, what—seven? How does one become an outlaw at that age?”
Risa blinked at him. “You’re joking. She’s my age.”
He shrugged. “I suppose you’re right that gallivanting around a lawless town seems more appropriate for a nine-year-old, but she’s definitely still a child.”
“She’s at least sixteen.”
Javi’s hand paused over Brunie’s tail, his nose wrinkling. “No. She’smaybeten.”
“Are you blind?”
“I’ll settle for twelve.”
She eyed him with curiosity, leaning forward to get a better look at his face. “You must have noticed.”
“Noticed what?”
“She’s beautiful.” At least, shethoughtso. Trying to recall the outlaw’s face made the hairs on her arms rise.
