Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

Annora

It takes everything in me to keep walking, to not look back as I leave the stables behind and wander into the city.

At this hour, only a few taverns remain open. I turn toward one of them, determined to drink enough to forget about leaving Jasce in the stables.

The tavern door creaks as I step inside, where smoke from the torches hangs in the air like morning fog.

Only five patrons occupy the room—two men hunched over their goblets at the bar, an elderly couple sharing a bowl of stew in the corner, and a lone figure by the window.

Perfect.

Fewer witnesses to my misery.

After a quick glance around, I choose a table near the back.

A barmaid with graying hair and a stained apron moves to my table. “What’ll it be?”

“Ale, please.”

The floorboards creak beneath her slippers as she shuffles away.

When she returns, she sets down a goblet that has seen better days. The ale inside is dark and foamy, promising the blessed numbness I crave. “Here you are, My Lady.”

I wrap my fingers around the goblet. The stoneware is worn from summers of use, but right now, it might as well be made of gold for all I care.

“Why don’t you join us?” one of the men calls from the bar.

Instead of responding to him, I lift my veil a little, raise the tankard to my lips, and take a long drink.

“Come on. Show us what you’re hiding under your veil,” his companion slurs.

“Bet she’s a real beauty,” the first man says. “Look at those curves.”

I continue to sip my ale, needing peace, needing them to stop talking and leave me alone.

“Take off the veil. Take off the veil,” they chant, their voices growing louder with each repetition.

My fingers ache as I tighten my grip around the goblet. “Leave me alone.”

The barmaid glares at them. “Do you know who she is?”

One of the men stands and stumbles toward me. “Are you hiding something nasty under there?” he asks, his breath reeking of ale. “No one wears a veil unless they’re covering up something hideous.”

A shadow falls across our table, and I glance up, breath catching at the sight of Aleksander standing there, scowling at the man.

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” he warns, his voice sharper than Damascus steel.

“We’re just having a bit of fun,” the man protests.

A flash of metal catches the torchlight as Aleksander frees his sword and holds it against the man’s throat.

“Say one more word…” A slow smile spreads across Aleksander’s mouth as he adds, “…and I’ll happily slit you from ear to ear.”

The man’s throat bobs against the blade. “My apologies, My Lord.”

Aleksander holds the dagger in place for three more heartbeats before withdrawing it. The men scramble away, nearly tripping over themselves in their haste to escape.

“Annora,” Aleksander says as he slips the weapon back into his leather belt. “Come with me.”

As I rise from my seat, I focus on his broad shoulders as he carves a path across the room.

The cool night air hits my face as we step outside, and some of the tension seeps from my shoulders.

He pauses under a flickering torch and turns to face me. His fingers brush my cheek as he adjusts my veil. Then, without a word, he grabs my arm and leads me through the streets of Bakva.