Page 35 of Maneater

As I approached the doors of the Cragstone, a familiar voice reached my ears, the same one I’d heard earlier in the market square, though clearer now.

His song carried through the doorway, drawing me in.

I stepped inside quietly and found a small crowd gathered near the hearth.

Pressing myself against the wall just behind them, I blended into the circle of listeners.

I’ve wandered roads, both rough and long,

With a song in my heart and a tune so strong.

Through every town, I play my part,

A bard’s life’s lived with a roaming heart.

By moonlit shores and dawn’s first light,

I sing of love, of wrong, of right.

In crowded halls and quiet glens,

I weave my tales, again and again.

In taverns warm and castles grand,

I strum my lute with steady hand.

For joy and sorrow, love and strife,

I sing the story of a wanderer’s life.

The bard carried the tune through a few final choruses, ending with a dramatic flourish and a wide grin before giving a deep bow. A scatter of half-pennies clinked into his tin, and one cheerful patron passed him a mug of ale.

As the crowd slowly began to disperse, I made my way toward the bar. I wasn’t certain this was the right place, but like the Eldergrove, I hoped the innkeeper or barkeep might steer me in the right direction. This place felt less chaotic than before, but it was still far more crowded than I liked.

A man suddenly blocked my path, and I stopped short.

“Wait,” he said, eyes narrowing. “I know you.”

The words dropped like a stone in my stomach. My heart pounded as a hundred worst-case scenarios ran through my mind. Had someone from Hyrall tracked me down already?

Then he grinned.

“You gave me a copper in the market square,” he finally said.

The tightness in my chest loosened as recognition dawned. It was the bard.

“I never forget a face,” he added, with a wink. “Especially not one as lovely and generous as yours.”

“Oh,” I said, pulling a smile into place. “You again.”

He grinned like I’d just made his evening. “The stars must be aligned. What brings you to the Cragstone tonight? Business? Pleasure? Perhaps a little of both?”

“Just passing through,” I said with another smile. “Leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Then fate’s been kind,” he said. “I’m off to Yserath myself. My cart and mare out back, always ready for the next adventure. ”

“Sounds like you make a habit of it.” I glanced toward the bar. “Mind if I grab a drink?”

“My apologies.” He stepped aside with a small bow. “Allow me to make up for it. What’s your drink?”

“A sweet ale, if they have one.”

“Excellent taste,” he said, already flagging down the barkeep. “Plum and mulberry are quite popular around here. Which suits your fancy?”

“Plum sounds lovely.”

After exchanging a few words with the barkeep, the bard returned with a mug in hand. He passed it to me, and I accepted it with a nod. The ale was sweeter than I preferred, but I wasn’t here to indulge. I had to keep my wits about me. A woman with a taste for plum ale wasn’t anyone to remember.

What caught my interest, however, was the bard. He was traveling alone, a man with no attachments. He’d spoken of his mare and a cart, and though I didn’t know Yserath, that didn’t matter. A traveler without ties was exactly the sort of companion I could use, just long enough to disappear.

“And who do I have to thank?” I asked. “Does the bard have a name?”

He laughed. “I do. The name’s Meric. And you are...?”

My eyes sparkled as I answered, “Evanine.”

“Evanine,” he repeated, savoring each syllable. “How delightful. There’s a certain allure about you. It’s quite rare, you know. Now, tell me, which city claims you as its own?”

I gave a soft chuckle. “We’ve only just started our first drink. I’m sure we’ll get to that by the end of the night.” I tilted my head slightly, locking eyes with him. “But tell me, Meric. Of all your travels, which place truly stood out? Which one took your breath away?”

“Ah,” he sighed, his gaze drifting as he took a thoughtful sip. “I’ve traveled through magnificent cities and countless towns, but none come close to Tethrune.”

“Tethrune?” I echoed, raising my brows. “I’ve never heard of it.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret.

“It’s far, far away, in a kingdom most have never heard of.

A place pulled from the pages of legend, really.

The wealth there is beyond imagining. Silver-inlaid fountains pour water that sparkles like starlight.

The streets shimmer beneath your feet, and every building towers like a palace.

It’s a sight to behold. And the folk, well, they worship poetry in a way I’ve never seen.

If I weren’t a bard, I think I’d stay there forever.

But then again, if I hadn’t been a bard, I might never have found it at all. ”

“Incredible,” I murmured, letting my voice drip with admiration. “With all the places you’ve seen, I’m sure you’ve visited towns most of us could only dream of. But now, I have to ask, were there any towns you’d rather forget?”

Meric laughed loudly, finishing his first mug and signaling for another.

“Funny, isn’t it? Asking me to recall something forgettable?

” He ran a hand through his russet hair and shot me a wink.

“But I never forget a place, no matter how dull. If I had to pick one, it’d be Halldun.

Just east of here. All barley fields and a few folk.

Nothing to keep your attention. I won’t be rushing back anytime soon. ”

The way he spoke of Halldun made it sound a lot like Brier Len. Maybe there was a place for me yet.

“I’m sure you left quite the mark, though,” I teased. “You certainly left one on me when I saw you in the market square.”

Meric’s smile grew, his face turning a deeper shade of red with each drink.

He kept on recounting his travels, and I let him, tossing in compliments when the moment felt right.

It was easy enough, especially since he barely asked anything about me.

I sipped my plum ale casually, watching him finish his fifth mug.

Before long, his hand slipped onto my knee, fingers idly tracing the fabric of my dress as our conversation carried on.

“Evanine,” Meric rasped, his hand pressing a little higher on my leg. His eyes were hooded, blurred by drink and lust. “What do you say we head upstairs? I’ve already got the room… wouldn’t mind some company before I leave for Yserath.”

A slow, amused smile curved my lips. “Is that so?”

His voice dropped lower. “Tell me your price.”

So, the barkeep hadn’t been far off. The bard thought I was working too.

“I do have a price,” I said, slipping into the role with ease. Our faces were inches apart. “But tonight, I’m in need of a warm bed and transport out of Falhurst come morning. Think we can strike a deal?”

I watched Meric weigh the offer. It was fair, really.

He traveled alone, and until I reached where I needed to go, I could share his bed instead of draining his coin purse.

That arrangement would cost him far less than the usual six or seven coppers, maybe more, depending on the city.

He’d told me about his mare, Sigrid, and the way his wagon was packed.

There was just enough room for a second bedroll. I didn’t need more than that.

By now, Meric was well into his sixth drink. How he was still sitting upright, I wasn’t sure. Frankly, it was almost impressive.

Then, as if a decision clicked into place, the furrow smoothed from his brow and he grinned, raising his mug toward me in a lazy salute. With a final gulp, he said, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Meric’s hands clutched my waist eagerly as he guided me toward the stairs.

He half-sang a slurred melody, tossing a loud cheer over his shoulder to the crowd below.

The tavern erupted in laughter, whistles, and hoots when they caught sight of me beside him.

I returned their noise with a smile and a light laugh as we ascended.

At the top, just out of view, Meric swayed and pulled me close, pressing his face into the hollow of my neck.

His breath was warm against my skin. “Gods, you’re a vision… ”

His hands crept higher, but I caught them mid-motion, threading my fingers through his and easing them back to where they belonged. I leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. “Not here,” I whispered. “Take me to your room.”

He stepped back, dazed for a moment, then leaned forward again, reaching for my lips. I stopped him with a slight frown and a playful click of my tongue. “Patience,” I breathed. “There’s time enough for that.” My hand trailed down his arm. “Shall we?”

With a low, eager groan, Meric clutched my hand and led me down the dim hallway, stumbling often enough that I had to catch him at the elbow more than once.

We reached a door near the far end. He reached for the key tucked in his tunic, fumbling with the strap before letting out a curse as it slipped from his grip.

I laughed lightly and crouched to retrieve it, guiding it into the lock for him. The door creaked open with a soft click. Inside, the room was modest, nothing lavish. Plain walls, a narrow bed, worn sheets.

Before he could stumble in ahead of me, I caught his arm and guided him to the bed, letting the door drift mostly closed behind us. Step by step, I moved him back until his legs touched the bed frame. Then I gave a gentle push, settling him into place.

“Evanine,” Meric breathed, his hands already reaching.

I stepped just out of his grasp, meeting his eyes with a teasing glance. “Up you go,” I murmured, the words almost a purr, more invitation than order. As I spoke, my cloak slipped from my shoulders, followed by the soft thud of my satchel hitting the floor.