Page 50 of Greed of Giants

“As do you,” I said, noting the way she held herself as if she might shatter at any moment.

A middle-aged man appeared from behind the bar, wiping his hands on a towel, which he tossed over his shoulder. He was short, almost as wide as he was tall. A mop of curly gray hair sprouted from his head, which was balding at the top, and he had the kind of face that smiled often enough to wear permanent creases at the corners of his eyes. “Welcome, welcome!” He beamed. “What can I do for you? Food is hot, ale is flowing, and we have plenty of rooms.”

“Food, ale, and two rooms,” I said. Reaching into the bag, I pulled out one of the gems. It caught the light and held it. “Will this secure payment?”

“Killian,” Ilaris whispered.

The man’s eyes went wide. “I’ve seen some strange things in my day, but nothing like this. It’s room and board for a month at least, if not more.”

“We’ll also need food and supplies for a journey, transportation as well.”

The man held up the gem, nodding. “Now, I can help you with that. Best to leave this town as quickly as you can.”

“A meal, first, would be appreciated.”

The man pointed. “That way to thecommon room. Take any table you like. Food and ale will be out shortly. Rooms will be prepared, and I’ll provide supplies and transportation for you.”

“And a bone for my dog,” I added, thinking of Jasper. “He’ll be at the back door.”

The man nodded. “Anything you need, let me know.”

The common room was crowded, men and women in travel-stained cloaks, workers still dusty from the day’s labor, a group of younger folk clustered around a table, playing cards. The air was thick with voices, the clinking of pottery, the scraping of chairs, and laughter. After the silence of the hills, the noise felt welcoming. So much life, so much energy. It reminded me of home, of walking through the king’s hall of banquets after a great conquest.

I felt curious eyes on us as I led Ilaris to a table, dropping the bag at my feet. Ilaris sat across from me, slumping into the chair, her slender fingers tapping impatiently against the wood. Her gaze shifted, studying, watching. Still avoiding me. I thought of what it would be like to adorn her fingers with rings, to place a bracelet on her delicate wrist. To fasten the moonlight necklace at the curve of her throat, to watch it rest against her collarbone. To see her dressed in silk, the soft material dancing over her curves, highlighting everything. She looked beautiful now, but with my wedding gifts, she’d look like a queen. Like a bride?—

I tore my gaze away before I could finish the thought. The lack of food was addling my mind.

A young woman appeared with a laden tray and slid heaping plates of food in front of us. Two pints came with them, something dark that smelled sweet. “If you needanything at all, just wave. I’ll keep the ale flowing,” she said, then moved away, stopping at another table to clear away dishes.

I fell on the food. Roasted fowl, thick slices of bread, summer vegetables swimming in butter and herbs. It was only when the edges of hunger faded that I glanced at Ilaris.

Her shoulders dropped, the tension bleeding out as she ate. She caught me watching her, lifted her mug in a toast, and drank.

A sigh left her lips as she swallowed. “Drink,” she encouraged. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

I tried it. Warmth spread through my chest. I tasted the yeast in it, the fermentation, the mix of fruit and barley. “I thought wine would be popular in this region,” I said. “But this ale is crisp and delicious.”

“Crisp.” Ilaris snapped her fingers, taking another sip. “I know where we are,” she exclaimed, setting down the pint. “Caranhal. The farthest outpost and a popular trade route, surrounded by a ring of mountains. It’s difficult to build transportation out here, so no trains come this far out. The merchants come overland. The land is verdant, the ale is delicious, and the people are friendly.”

I leaned back, the desperate edges of hunger gone, the drink muting all urgency. Around us, the inn hummed with life. Someone near the bar was singing off-key but cheerful. The card players erupted in groans and laughter as someone won a hand. At a nearby table, two men argued over politics while others whispered, nervously watching the windows and doorways.

Ilaris took another drink. Her guard was down, her internal conflict gone for the moment.

“Tell me about Caranhal,” I said, easing into the conversation.

“I heard stories about its beauty, its wealth, its attention to architecture. It’s not a place on my list to visit, no mysteries to lure a scholar, just historical elegance.”

“Would you rather have a paper to write, or a relic to find?”

Ilaris lowered her gaze to the pint, a faint smile on her lips. “No. Not after the Verdant Maw. It’s enough to be still for a night.”

“Is this what you’re used to? Is this what the city is like?”

She nodded. “Yes, the city is like this. It’s alive, buzzing, full of energy. There are people everywhere, coming and going. Focused and busy. It’s rare to take time to sit over a meal, to drink in peace, to take a moment to rest. Everyone is focused on themselves, on their goals. It’s rare for anyone to look up, outside of themselves, except for places like this. Inns. Taverns. Bars. You had them too, didn’t you? The place where people came together for a meal, to laugh, to drink.”

“We did. But they were not like this. Our celebrations would last for days, sometimes weeks. The fountains would overflow with wine, the streets overtaken by the festivities. There would be music, singing, dancing, performances. My people, we never did anything halfway.” I trailed off, remembering the past that didn’t feel so distant.

The woman returned with more food and refilled our pints. Ilaris immediately started on the second one, and wefell into an easy conversation, just like the ones we’d had while on the train. I told her stories, but she shared her own, revealing small details of life. The taste of her favorite wine, a bright white from the west coast that reminded her of her first summer in the city. She shared stories of her years studying, the chaos of sharing walls with dozens of other scholars, her best friend who eventually moved to the water to study sea life. The odd habits of the woman she rented a room from, who reorganized her spice jars alphabetically each week, the little girl selling flowers, saving up for a new pair of shoes.