Page 54 of Blood of the Fairest

"Leave. I won't say it again. And if you ever return to this tavern, be prepared for worse than a few scars to remember me by."

Haircut curses her out some more, but runs after the other two.

My attention is somehow back on the bleeding, unconscious man. Despite the late evening starting to darken this alley, his blood is striking as it drips into the cracks between cobblestones. The scent of it keeps teasing my nose.

It kind of smells like…peach cobbler. My stomach hollows with desperation.

No. Fuck off, appetite. I'm not a monster.

"Um…sir, are you okay?"

I realize I'm the sir that Ingrid is addressing. Getting to my feet, I grimace at the pang in my hand.

Ingrid notices. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm just a wuss, so⁠—"

"You are not," she argues, gently taking the shoemaker’s hand to check it.

It looks fine, but I'm pretty sure my actual hand will be one big bruise later. Ingrid is petite enough to blink up at me shyly.

"You're brave. A lot braver than any other men in the tavern who saw what was going on and didn't do a thing about it. T-thank you. I… I'd like to repay you in some way, someday."

Is she blushing?

Aww. She totally is. What a cutie.

"Someday? Just kiss him now and get it over with," Anika huffs, but I can tell she's teasing. She stashes the dagger back in the concealed pocket of her dress.

I smile at Ingrid as I pull my hand away, hoping this shoemaker’s face can pull off a nice rejection.

"You have no idea how flattered I am, especially since you look like that," I indicate her killer curves and angelic face, "while I look like a nothing sandwich right now—but I'm way too old for you, and I'm very much only physically attracted to men."

Her blue eyes round with surprise, her voice lowering to a whisper.

"Oh! Um, then…I have a cousin you should meet. He only likes men, too. Perhaps you'll be just his type."

I don't have time to explain how exactly opposite his type I am, because peach invades my senses again. My attention is pulled sharply down to the man on the ground.

I don't want to look at that trickling red, but the burning in my throat and the emptiness of my stomach are starting to make my head spin. All I can hear for a second is that drip, drip, drip.

"Sir?" Anika asks slowly.

It takes serious effort to look up. I have to swallow twice to get the words out.

"Do either of you know someone named Merrick?"

Anika's dark gaze flicks quickly between the unconscious man and me, like she's picking up on how hard it is for me to focus right now.

"Merrick is my uncle," she says.

Eyes on the supermodel. No more looking down.

"Is he at this tavern tonight, by any chance? I'd love to talk to him. It's kind of urgent."

"Urgent, how? What is this about?" she asks warily, as protective of her uncle as she is of Ingrid.

"The queen sent me to ask if he's interested in being chamberlain of Isenmere Castle again."