Page 48 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“Let me guess,” she says, dark eyes dancing with mirth. “You boys fell into the pond?”

“We had a goose accident,” Garrett says, wringing water from his shirt. He’s absolutely soaked.

“Happens more than you’d think.” The woman shakes her head, still smiling. “The geese are territorial little mischiefs.”

She hands us towels that have seen better days but are blessedly clean. The cotton is rough and smells like soap and sunshine. “Name’s Muireann. I run this place. You’ll be wanting a room?”

“Please.” Garrett accepts the towel gratefully, using it to wipe water from his face.

“I’ve got one left. Just the one, mind you. The miller’s cousins are visiting and took the other three rooms.” She looks between us, assessing. “That work for you boys?”

“Perfect,” Garrett says without hesitation.

I open my mouth to say we’ll need two rooms but Muireann is already turning away. She pulls a key from a hook on the wall behind the bar. The keys hang on wooden pegs, each labeled with a room number. “Top of the stairs, first door on the right. We have a small malachite crystal to power up the shower. I can have dinner sent up if you’re wanting it.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Garrett hands her a few coins and accepts the keys gratefully.

She waves us toward the stairs then pauses, her expression turning more serious. “You’re here about Marcian, aren’t you? About what happened?”

Garrett’s smile fades. “Yes.”

“Poor Eithne. She’s staying with her sister right now because she couldn’t bear to be in that house alone.” Muireann shakes her head. “Marcian never caused trouble. Always paid his tab on time.”

“We’re going to find out what happened,” Garrett says quietly.

“I hope you do, Commander.” She gestures to the stairs again. “Go on, get yourselves dried off.”

Garrett and I follow her directions, leaving puddles on her floor as we go. I feel guilty about it, but Muireann just waves us off when we try to apologize. The hall upstairs is narrow with four doors and a window at the end. It’s simple with no decoration beyond the basic necessities.

Muireann unlocks the first door and hands Garrett the key. “Anything else you need, just holler. I’ll have that dinner up in about an hour.”

“Thank you, Muireann.”

She nods and heads back downstairs, her footsteps fading.

We enter the room.

It’s tiny. Maybe ten feet by twelve, with a single window overlooking the square. There’s a small wardrobe with doors slightly warped from age and one moderately-sized bed, pressed against the far wall.

One bed.

“I’ll take the floor,” I say immediately.

Garrett is already stripping off his wet shirt, not bothering with modesty. Water streams from the fabric, pooling on the floor. I very carefully focus my attention on the wall. On the window. On literally anything except the way water runs down his back, following the line of his spine, disappearing into his waistband.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says while working on his belt buckle. “The bed is big enough for two.”

“I don’t need a bed. I’ll keep watch.” I clear my throat, still not looking at him. Maybe I’ll ask Muireann later if I can sleep in the stables or keep watch in the common room.

“We’re in a village where the biggest threat is waterfowl. You can sleep here.” He pauses at the doorway, glancing back. “Do you want to use the shower first?”

“No. You go.”

He shrugs and disappears into the cramped space. I hear the sound of wet fabric hitting the floor, then water starting to run. The malachite crystal hums faintly, powering the heating mechanism.

I should be checking the room. The window locks, the door, sight lines from the square. That’s my job.

Instead, I’m acutely aware that Garrett is naked ten feet away.