Page 8 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)

Chapter eight

Astraea

The stormy daylight filters through the cracks in the shuttered window, casting the hallway in a shadowed blue-gray hue as I follow the woman, who apparently came to fetch me.

The chill in the air still lingers from the night, where the sun remains hidden behind thick blankets of rain clouds.

The bitter chill always sticks around during the desert rains in Eathian.

Though it’s morning, by the looks of the tavern, you would never know it.

The wooden shutters are pulled tightly closed to keep out the now raging storm.

As I descend the stairs, I’m hit with a wall of heat and a plethora of scents.

The fire in the center hearth roars alongside the people who are already drinking and rowdy as ever.

The air is rancid with the smell of sweat, sizzling meat, and stale ale.

I guess there really isn’t much else to do while stuck waiting out a monsoon.

My attention is pulled immediately to the far corner of the tavern.

A ring of bodies creates a shadow around a halo of light; all the tables and chairs have been moved to form the makeshift fighting circle.

It’s similar to what I have seen the guards do in the courtyard at the palace—only in much tighter quarters.

The men all along the edges are cheering, laughing, and throwing coins at the two shirtless figures in the center.

Both men are covered in dark swirls and swatches of ink.

The patterns are so similar but uniquely their own.

Their skin gleams in the low light like freshly oiled armor as they round on each other.

I recognize them both as the men I have had the pleasure of encountering each twice now since running from the palace.

I didn’t realize I had stopped. Entranced by their fluid-like movements and the sweat rolling lines down their skin, until the woman who came to fetch me snaps her fingers in front of my nose.

“They are pretty, but pick your jaw up, would you? I’m getting secondhand embarrassment.

” I blink out of the trance, and she shakes her head with a grimace as she leads me the rest of the way down the narrow stairs.

Keeping an eye on me every few steps, her watchful stare causes my insides to swim, and I chew my lip nervously.

She claps on the surface of the bar with three loud thumps and a high-pitched whistle, earning an annoyed eye roll from the barmaid.

The same stout woman with red hair from last night .

“Keep your whistles for the dogs, or I’ll feed your tongue to them!” She calls out as she shakes her head, throwing a dish towel over her shoulder. She serves two tankards to a couple of men whose eyes linger on me and the woman at my side.

“The fuck are you two looking at?” My grumpy new friend barks out, and they quickly avert their gaze into their drinks.

“All men are inept at reading a woman.” She shakes her head before snapping and pointing at the stool next to her.

This snapping at me like I’m a dog is going to get old very fast. Narrowing my eyes on her, then at the stool, I think about how I want to react.

I’ve never been talked to in this manner.

No one would dare risk the king hearing of such disrespect.

To do so would be knotting your own noose for the gallows.

Taking a calming breath, I sit as she so politely requested with my lips sealed.

“What’s your story?” The woman asks as she shifts on her stool while she has me pinned with her eyes.

She fiddles with a small knife she pulled from the strap on her chest. The blade is a dark metal, not unlike any other knife, but as she swirls it, I notice the engravings on each side and how the flickering light from the torches catches the blade’s serrated edge menacingly.

I shift in my seat. Swallowing, I look away from her and back to where the men are sparring.

“I don’t have a story.” I lie. Almost too easily. I curse internally at the quick response, but I don’t think she heard me anyway. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but then she leans in close to catch my eye, the tip of her knife pointed in my direction .

“Then you better get one.” She sheaths the blade back at her breast strap and pats it once for effect.

“If you plan on traveling and surviving the kingdom, you need to know your story, and it’s best if everyone else knows the story you want told.

” Something about the way she says it—it’s not necessarily a threat, but the caveat is implicated pretty clearly.

The barmaid makes her way over to us as the woman makes an order for drinks.

The hair on my arms stands on end as I feel a stare burrowing into me from across the room.

I try to feign looking around at all the obnoxious patrons, but I can’t look away when my gaze clashes with a man who now sits around the corner at the bar facing me.

He swipes the dark tunic in his hand across his brow to wipe away the gathering sweat, and it’s only a brief reprieve from his heavy stare and the dark shadows that linger within it.

“What did you do to piss off Kyros?” My attention snaps to the blonde at my side.

“I—What?”

“He’s broody on the best of days, but whatever happened this morning has him wound up like a cobra, ready to strike.

” Her chin juts out toward the other side of the bar, and heat creeps up my neck as my gaze hunts for the man again, but when I look back to the spot he occupied, he’s gone.

The men who were casting bets on the fight are either sulking as they slap coins and notes into their grinning counterparts’ hands or laughing loudly, howling about who will win the next one.

“Maybe he doesn’t like the ale much here either.

” She hitches her pierced eyebrow at my response and looks at me, waiting for me to elaborate, but I am saved from reliving that horror as the barmaid comes over, setting down two tin tumblers.

The blonde woman slips a note across the bar, and the woman on the other side huffs with a nod before she turns to walk away.

“Wait!” I call out a little too loudly, immediately curling in on myself.

The barmaid lifts a deep red brow at my call as she comes back to where we sit.

“Sorry, I was just wondering if there was another room? One I don’t have to share?

” I look around nervously, leaning forward a hair closer.

“I could pay double.” I whisper, hoping no one else hears that bit of information.

“Even if you could pay triple, I couldn’t room you alone, lady.

Do you not see this place? It’s crawling with souls as stuck as you are.

I suggest you either learn to get along or find someone else willing to switch you rooms. Either way, you will have someone bunking with you.

” I swallow her words down with the bile rising and nod before she dismisses me with a huff.

“Thank you,” I rush out to her before she walks away, then lift the rim to my lips and tip it back— thank the divine it’s not that awful ale.

The whiskey burns more than any I have ever had.

I guess castle guards have better choices than those this far out in Eathian.

My eyes are screwed shut from another sip of the alcohol, as an arm rests across my shoulders and hot breath puffs out on my cheek. I stiffen at the public intimate touch.

“Careful, Princess. That there—will put you on your back if you’re not…” His eyes flick over to the blonde. “Thanks for helping out my new friend, Zinny.” He winks, and the blonde rolls her eyes .

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” She grumbles, throwing her head back.

She drinks down the rest of what is in the tin before slamming it down on the counter.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive being cooped up with all of you.

Traveling here was hard enough.” Her stool protests loudly as she stands, shaking her head.

She storms off and disappears in the now much more crowded tavern, now that more people are waking and coming down for food and to escape the confines of their rooms.

“Don’t mind Zinya. She’s nicer than she seems.” Mav says, nudging me like an old friend would with his elbow.

I look down at the contact as my brow furrows.

People in the castle never openly touch me so casually, and now Mavros has touched me twice in just minutes.

It’s an odd feeling and instantly puts me on edge with more worry—the king has killed for less.

Unsure of where to look or what to say, I focus my attention into the bottom of the drink and chew my lip.

I can feel Mav looking at me, but I refuse to meet his gaze.

I need to blend in… he is loud, and people notice him.

Even now I can feel their eyes lingering on us.

The talking that Zinya warned about is already starting.

My heart runs away with my thoughts, and before I can think better of it, I slam back the gold liquid just like Zinya did.

The regret is instant. The burn sears at my sinuses, liquid fire down my throat, and a vat of lava from the pits of Zameil.

I have to hold my breath in order to keep in the coughing fit that is slamming its fist at the back of my throat under control.

“Damn, bet that hurt. You don’t look like you’re one much for drinking, Princess.”

“If you don’t mind,” I bow my head in dismissal and clench my jaw as my voice comes out as a wheeze.

Bowing upon leaving was a common occurrence in the castle, but in the bowels of the kingdom, I doubt such reverence was needed.

I hope that Mavros doesn’t notice. “I’m still feeling very tired.

I think I will go rest for a bit.” He narrows his eyes on me with a lopsided grin, a loose blonde curl falling over his dark brow, and his nearly silver eyes light with mischief.

Already I can tell this man is going to be trouble if I don’t get out of his shadow soon.

“You want some company?” He wags his eyebrows as I pin him with a pointed glare, and his laughter follows me as I make my way through the sea of bodies.

“My brother seems curious about you…” I jump at the sound of the gravelly voice that now greets me as I break through the crowd heading for the stairs.

Kryros leans against the wooden pillar that frames the stairs’ entrance, his wide arms crossed over his equally wide chest. Mavros and Kyros look nothing like siblings.

Where Mav has light features and a stealthy, sharp physique, Kyros is the embodiment of darkness, the epitome of brutality, pure and roguish masculinity.

His midnight eyes reveal nothing as he stares into me. Penetrating…searching…

“Your brother?” I ask, my gaze swinging to land on the man in question. His eyes are trained on where I stand talking to Kyros.

“He doesn’t need a distraction right now.” I can’t help the face that pulls my lip back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was so much to distract from in a tavern waiting out a monsoon.

Please don’t let me keep you from doing whatever it is that is so prudent.

” I roll my eyes and stride past him for the stairs.

My eyes round as I pass him. The surprise of my own curt tone shocks me.

I’m stopped abruptly with large fingers caging around my wrist, and I look down at the contact before looking him in the eyes.

“Who are you?” He asks in a low voice as he pulls me a fraction closer. I can smell the whiskey on his breath, woven with the scents of earth and fire, smoke and honey. My brows dip to match the shadows in his eyes.

“I am no one.” I say defiantly, shrugging out of his grip; his hand falls away, and I stomp my way up the narrow stairs. I don’t know why his words bothered me so much, but I can’t help but look back when I reach the top. Kyros is gone.

I’ve had time to let the panic fully engulf me.

My heart won’t slow, the rampant beat making it nearly impossible to lie in bed and sleep.

The castle is likely in an uproar, having realized I am not where I am supposed to be.

When the rain stops, there will be a new flood.

A wave of silver as my father unleashes his battalion.

Staring blankly at the rain-washed desert, my eyes are drawn to the palace that leers over the city on the horizon.

I’ve never seen the castle from this view.

From here, even as the heavens open a floodgate while the clouds churn in an angry dance of fury, the flashes of lightning illuminate the pale sandstone walls in stark contrast to the darkened sky; it’s a sight to behold.

A shiver of dread rolls down my spine as I think of what could be happening within those walls right now— of Colette.

My leaving undoubtedly has put her in the line of fire from my father’s rage.

I force myself away from the window and sit on the mussed up bed.

Kicking off my boots, I pull my feet up as I press my back against the low headboard.

The heaviness on my mind brings tears to fill my vision as I take in a ragged breath and bite down on my fist to stifle the sob that is trying to escape.

Sinking into the bed, I cover myself with the rumpled blanket and let my tears fall. I let the worry for my only friend chase me into the nightmares I know are waiting once I drift into sleep’s embrace. Just like they always do.