Page 48 of Silverbow (The Godsung Saga #1)

A knot of men erupting in a roar of laughter snagged her gaze.

A burly man in their midst was spinning a rancorous tale.

He wore a coat and cloak that had the rumpled look of hard travel and sun reddened his ruddy cheeks.

Enya let out an involuntary squeak when the man across from him shifted and she found herself looking squarely at Sir Westerton.

She sucked in a breath and lowered her face to her plate.

Around her, the demi-elves went unnaturally still.

“Ansel?”

“Oryn,” she breathed so quietly only they could hear. “That man knows my face.”

“Which one?”

“With the knights. Center on the far bench. Green tunic,” she said tightly. “I think he’s seen me. ”

She could feel Oryn staring at the man, and the others stole casual glances around the room between bites. “Friend or foe?” He asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “Foe, probably.”

“Probably?” Aiden asked, craning his neck to get a better look at the knight.

“I…spurned his affections.”

“I would have thought your lord father had better judgment,” the fire wielder mused.

Enya rubbed her thumb over a scar in the table. “I think he was rather desperate for any I did not scare away,” she admitted.

“Do we stay or go?” Colm asked.

“We finish our meal and go,” Oryn said quietly.

Every muscle in Enya’s body went taught as a bowstring when he draped a casual arm around the back of her chair and leaned close, physically shielding her from view.

She clutched her fork like she might have to stab someone with it and tried to ignore the unwelcome warmth that bloomed in her middle.

She could feel the heat of his skin and smell the scent of cedar clinging to him. Oh, gods.

“Don’t look up. He’s looking this way.”

Her heart went skittering wildly at the caress of his breath in her ear. It was utterly ridiculous. She had a bounty on her head, but the only thing she could think about was the way he looked without a shirt.

Light, get a grip. You’re his captive.

“I’ll ready the horses. Aiden, bags,” Colm ordered. He rose from his chair and stretched lazily, sauntering across the common room to the door. He moved without hurry, but a few heads turned his way, noticing the fluid grace he couldn’t quite hide.

“I’m always left with the bags,” Aiden muttered sulkily.

“When you’re a blademaster, I’ll carry the bags,” Bade breathed.

Another time, Enya may have marveled that Bade had seemingly made a joke, but not now.

Now she was anxiously tapping her foot trying to look at everything while staring at her plate and trying not to think about the very tall, very stony man sitting beside her.

The familiar panic jumbled with that blasted heat.

“Ansel?” Oryn asked.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s a bit warm in here.”

“Hold on,” he said levelly. “We’ll be out soon. ”

Hold on. Hold on.

His thumb made small circles on her upper arm and every thought scattered.

Oh, light.

“Just like Analuz,” he murmured to Bade over her head.

“Which time?”

“The widow.”

“Is now really the time to reminisce?” She hissed, trying to focus on some thread of anger to keep the panic at bay.

“Is there something you would prefer to talk about while we wait, Ansel? Perhaps what it was that was just going through your head?”

Oh, gods. Enya wanted to melt into the floorboards.

Oryn chuckled darkly. “Or perhaps your penchant for setting fires or your inexplicable disregard for your own life?”

Enya slid her eyes from the fork in her hand to Oryn’s throat. “And what about yours?”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this,” he mumbled, his eyes cast upward.

Enya didn’t think he was talking to her. Probably talking to his bloody gods.

“As entertaining as this is, now seems as good a time as any,” Aiden sighed. Like Colm, he rose with casually and strode up the stairs to retrieve their saddlebags.

“You want to try the kitchens?” Bade asked.

Oryn shook his head. “Better to leave the serving girls out of it. Twenty-seven swords between here and the door.”

Enya slid down an inch in her seat. Oryn shifted closer in a move that made her heart stutter again. Fool. Oryn Brydove might look like the gods he worshiped, but the bloody man was made of stone and she was his bloody bounty. And now was certainly not the time to lose her head.

“When we get up, you’re going to stay one pace behind Bade. One pace, no more, no less, all the way to the door,” he breathed.

“And you?”

“I will be right behind you. Keep your head down.”

Aiden appeared laden with saddlebags for five. No one paid him much mind as he trundled out into the evening. Enya watched her unstrung bow disappear out the front door with regret .

Oryn reached into his coat and pulled out a coin purse. Enya’s eyes widened at the silver he tipped onto the table. The sum was far more than their meals and baths. He cast another look around, sighed, and added two more marks to the tidy pile. He pushed his chair back, signaling her to rise.

Enya scrambled to her feet, clutching her fork in one hand and Liam’s horse head carving in the other.

She darted around the table to walk on Bade’s heels, eyeing the twin blades crossed over his back.

She was measuring her pace, trying to take quick steps to keep up with Bade’s long stride as she stared at the worn wood floor.

She nearly crashed into his back when he stopped short, and dread sank into her middle.

Sir Westerton stepped in front of the demi-elf, hand resting on the hilt of his sword in an open challenge.

When Bade took a step to the side, the knight shifted with him.

Sensing a brewing storm, heads swiveled in their direction, and Enya bent her neck further toward the floor.

Her chin practically sat atop the signet ring beneath her shirt.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Light, don’t look.

“You make a mistake, Sir.” Bade’s voice held a cool, dangerous edge.

“I do not think I do,” Sir Westerton answered, peering around his shoulder. “I know the lady.”

“Do you know the man, Miss?” Bade barked roughly.

Enya’s eyes slid upward and dropped again. “No.”

“Seems you do make a mistake, Sir ,“ Bade growled. “She’s with us. Let us pass.”

For a long heartbeat, no one moved, and then the knight must have decided he would need more men to challenge Bade and Oryn, for he announced loudly enough for all to hear, “I think I know Enya Ryerson when I see her.”

Light.

Anyone still absorbed in their drink or their discussions whipped their attention to her face.

Enya watched hands find hilts and men ready themselves to swing legs over benches.

Others sat slack jawed and the serving maids edged toward the kitchens, wanting to be well clear of any fighting.

Enya’s hand tightened on her fork, and the absurdity of it made a laugh bubble from her throat.

“Something funny, Miss Ryerson?” Sir Westerton sneered.

“Your mistake,” she answered simply. “You do make a mistake, sir.”

“Last chance,” Bade growled. “Let us pass. We don’t want any trouble. ”

“I suppose it should be no surprise to find Estryia’s bounty in the company of a couple of half-breed bastards.”

Benches scraped across the floor as men rose and the rasping of swords leaving scabbards filled the thick silence.

“Gentlemen, please,” the innkeeper called feebly from behind his bar. “Not in my common room.”

“Elred’s Eagle,” someone whispered. “Gods above, that’s Elred’s Eagle.”

“You don’t want to fight me, boy.”

Sir Westerton’s eyes went to the twin hilts crossed over Bade’s shoulder and his ruddy face drained of color. A few who had drawn started backing away. Bade jerked his chin toward them. “Be a smart lad and live to see another day.”

A snarl twisted the knight’s face and he reached for his two handed broadsword.

Bade was faster, a shining blade in each hand.

The common room lurched into chaos. Bade waited for Sir Westerton to swing first and Enya turned her face away so she did not have to see the knight die.

Her stomach roiled as she stepped over his corpse, leaving red boot prints on the common room floor as she followed Bade toward the door.

One pace. One pace. Light.

It was easier said than done. The demi-elf moved like smoke, eddying back and forth as foolish men stepped forward.

Oryn’s sword sung through the air behind her, blade spinning fast enough he seemed to be in two places at once, guarding both her left and her right.

Where men stepped forward to cash in on her bounty, they lost arms, if not their lives.

She flinched when a spray of blood splattered her face as Oryn felled a man who tried to seize her elbow.

More spattered her back, but she didn’t look.

She knew Oryn still moved in her wake and Bade moved ever forward, carving a bloody path to the door.

One man Bade had dropped but not killed crawled toward her and took hold of Enya’s boot.

She drove the fork into the back of his hand with as much force as she could manage.

The hand fell away with a scream she tried not to hear.

Suddenly they were at the door and Bade stepped to the side, roughly shoving Enya out into the evening air.

She stumbled down the steps to where Colm and Aiden sat mounted, swords in hand.

She darted for Arawelo and vaulted into her saddle.

She thanked the stars for whoever thought to string her bow.