Page 55 of Blood of the Fairest

Anika exchanges a look with Ingrid, looks me over once more, and finally nods.

"All right. He's upstairs. If you come inside to wait, I'll see if he has any interest in talking to someone sent from Her Majesty."

There's a serious dose of theatrical sarcasm in those last two words. But if she's not a fan of the real queen, we'll get along—because same.

Ingrid holds the door open for me, but she's swaying. Everything is swaying. Peach scent permeates my brain until the words tumble out of the shoemaker’s mouth before I can stop it.

"You two go ahead. I'll get this creep out of here so he doesn't cause trouble for you when he wakes up, but I'll hurry back and wait to see Merrick."

Ingrid flashes a grateful smile at me before she goes into the tavern. Anika's sharp attention moves once more between the unconscious guy and me. She seems to decide she doesn't give a rat's ass about this jerk, anyway, and follows Ingrid inside.

Trying my best not to think too hard about what I'm about to do, I crouch beside the passed-out man. I watch the shoemaker’s fingers slip through the warm blood dripping from his side, viscous and heavy with the scent that's making my head pound.

Just one taste.

A very small one.

I did make a promise to Eris, after all.

14

Eris

"What do you mean, she dismissed the Favored? And this, so soon after showing up to an execution to spare a northerner child? Surely, the queen's gone madder than she already was," a man scoffs over the noise of the tavern.

"Or maybe she's lost the madness at last," another argues. "Heard she made a show of imprisoning that nasty, no-good chamberlain. My friend's uncle works as a guard at the castle and says the queen's behavior is all the nobles can talk about lately, but she hasn't left her chambers in days."

Another man grunts. "Crones. Whatever will happen to Isenmere now, if that lusty hag is trying to run it?"

"Who cares? All I know is, if that bitch is on the hunt for more cock, she can have mine. I'll fuck a pretty queen however much she likes to live like royalty as a Favored!"

That draws a chorus of laughter and loud agreements.

Irritated, I step away from the reflection of the mug in one of their hands. It's one of the few windows offering a view of the door Verena stormed out of far too long ago—but those mouthy bastards are intolerable.

Moving instead to stare at the door from the reflection on someone's shiny brass satchel button, I run my hands through my hair once more in utter frustration.

I missed something.

It happens sometimes in my shredded, limited views of the world through these windows, but I must have missed something while I went to confirm that Merrick was eating upstairs.

Why the fuck would Verena follow those drunk men outside?

They must be in some alleyway without windows or reflections of any kind, because I can't find even the briefest glimpse of them in any nearby window.

What if they've harmed her? What if she fell ill and unconscious from lack of drinking blood, and those scoundrels left the supposed shoemaker in the alley gutter to die?

Or—Crones. What if they've discovered she's the queen, somehow?

It didn't bother me when she first sent her sworn protector away, but now it's fucking annoying. If Wulf were here, he could have stopped this.

I swear and pace away from this window, then back. Again and again.

I'm used to feeling trapped.

I'm not used to worrying out of my mind about being trapped away from someone else.

The door opens, and two tavern maids walk in. I stop and watch, expecting Verena to be right behind them. Were these women out in the alley, too? I must have missed that.