Page 65 of Blackheart

I shrugged. “I mean, what’s one more?”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Elora.”

My cheeks flushed. What did he mean bythat?Or was he just too tired to argue with me?

The tavern was a warm sanctuary of quiet patrons and barmaids serving ale. It was early enough that no one was belligerent, nor had a bard begun playing yet, though there was a chair and several instruments prepared in the corner.

As a hefty brunette filled a slouching patron's glass, I almost missed slinging ale myself. This inn was larger than Widow’s Way, with at least fifteen wooden tables and two sets of stairs leading to the second level with rooms for rent.

After Riven paid, I followed him up the steps, resisting the urge to make eye contact with anyone. Imitating the pure picture of a lady, I kept my arms free as Riven carried our things to the room. I’d gone entirely unnoticed, which was humbling but preferred.

He slid a metal key into the lock, turned it, and swung the door open.

I perked up at the impressive room. The bed was pushed against a snow-frosted window, neatly made with clean blue quilts. On the wall was a fireplace. Riven dropped our packs in a corner before plucking a match off the mantel and starting the fire.

I could sleep right by it if I wanted to, or in the bed, and I didn’t have to have a man’s seed inside of me to earn it. I exhaled with the weight of relief and exhaustion.

Riven stoked the flame, narrowing his dark brows from across the room. “What?”

Had I been staring? Or quiet for too long?

In truth, I was excited. Riven and I were grown enough to share the bed without it being strange. There were times on horrid winter nights that Trista, Luna, and I had all huddled up in Trista’s bed together, and that one was much more narrow. Maybe in the morning I could offer to help with kitchen work in return for a meal from the tavern. I didn’t need Riven paying my way; the room was already enough.

“This looks wonderful,” I finally said, spotting a hook on the wall and sliding my cloak off. I hung it while smiling, knowing it would not be lying on the floor all night long.

Maybe in Castivian, I would have a similar room to keep for myself, and more clothes to hang in the evenings.

Riven’s face twisted. “This wasn’t expensive.”

“Does it need to be expensive in order to be nice?”

He shook his head. “No. Sorry.”

I broke eye contact first, not acknowledging the unexpected apology. Usually I was the one giving those.

The bed called to me after the horribly long day, but a bard had arrived at the tavern at last. As he screeched out his first song, I was worried my ears might begin to bleed.

Riven grimaced, his frown deepening with each note until he stormed to the door. “I’ll be back.”

The fire crackled and popped as the door closed behind him.

My thighs ached. Nothing sounded better than taking a seat.

The bed was pleasantly soft as I crawled across the blue and white quilts. Outside the window, the world was a charcoal, snowy blur. Just being inside the inn, sitting on a bed in a room with a fireplace, was a luxury beyond what I had ever considered in the Waywards.

What if I didn’t deserve it?

Riven swung the door open, returning with an entire bottle of dark liquor in hand. He shook his head in agitation and closed the door firmly behind him as if it could block the screeching bard out.

“An entire bottle?” I exclaimed as he took the first chug, drinking long enough to burn a hole through his stomach.

He’d claimed not that long ago that he didn’t drink.

He held up the bottle. “It’s for you too, unless you’ll be enduring this sober.”

The last time I had split a bottle was with Luna after she’d had a fight with another Draker she fancied at the time. There had been so many men to drink over in the past three years, but there were celebratory times, too. Like when we finally saved up enough for our apartment and didn’t have to huddle together in an alley at night anymore. We’d just barely survived our first winter in the ‘Wards.

I held my arm out, and he passed the bottle. I took a healthy swig, trying to forget every shitty thing that had happened since Princess Clayvarie was poisoned. I must have drank for too long, because when I released the bottle from my lips, Riven’s eyes were wide.