Page 67 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

T hat afternoon, Rose and Roman departed on horseback for Highland Haven.

She had strapped the sword Zareb had gifted her to her back, stealthily hidden beneath her cloak.

It felt strange to be so eager to leave a place she’d once considered her home.

But here she was, practically casting off on a horse with her most unexpected ally.

They followed the main road, and though the sky was overcast, a warm breeze from the south made her regret the decision to wear a long-sleeved dress and black cloak. But she knew she’d be grateful for the warmth as they headed northwest toward the mountain range.

The sound of crashing waves faded into the background until they disappeared altogether, replaced by the serene quiet of the open road.

The invisible burden weighing her down for the past few weeks lifted with every mile they gained.

She straightened, taking off her hood, and for the first time in weeks, she inhaled a breath untainted by the sea, replaced with fresh dirt and farmland.

Rose took in every inch of the world around her as they traveled through the rolling hills.

Some fields were filled with lush, green pastures overrun by sheep and cattle, while others were utilized to grow food.

The wheat fields took up the hillside, the wind grazing across the stalks in beautiful waves.

The road was well-traveled since it was the main road that led from the castle to the heart of Cathan.

Countless travelers passed, most traders and barterers, while others were local farmers hauling their goods between towns.

Children trailed behind the wagons, exchanging mischievous grins with Rose as they ran to stretch their legs.

Many stopped to acknowledge Roman, showing appreciation for his service when they spotted the sun crest on his cloak.

It was still strange to think the young boy she’d once known had grown into the man in front of her.

In truth, she didn’t know him much at all.

In many ways, she felt like she was traveling with a stranger.

She wondered if he thought the same—keenly aware of his subtle glances sweeping over her every so often.

Despite the many friendly faces, some were not so inviting. One man, in particular, traveling with a large group of men, took notice of her, giving her an all-too-friendly grin, striding up to boldly introduce himself.

She opened her mouth to respond when Roman butted his horse between them, giving the man a dominant glare. The man scowled, about to put up a fight, but when he noticed Roman’s sun crest, he lost the motivation to pursue her, retreating to his group.

A few hours later, the sky grew dark as dusk crept in. Just as she was about to suggest they set up camp, a small village came into view.

“We’ll spend the night there,” Roman said, speaking up for the first time in an hour. “There’s a small tavern I’ve stayed at that should have a few rooms. It’s not much, but it’s safer than camping out in the open.”

Rose’s heart dropped, a long-lost fear taking over her body. She wished for nothing more than to brave the woods. She’d fight off a bear if she had to.

But she kept silent, not wanting to be a nuisance. A braver part of herself encouraged her to thicken her skin. After all, she couldn’t cower in fear of them forever.

The lanterns had already been lit as they trotted into the small village, lighting their way to the tavern. The dusty streets were nearly barren as stragglers scattered homeward.

As she entered the tavern, she noticed two things.

First was the overwhelming smell of alcohol, unwashed men, and smoke, all plaguing her nose in a nauseating blend.

Second was the bar full of men who immediately took notice of their entry, each with a drink in hand, looking positively bored until she walked in.

One man beamed broadly, making a point to signal to his friends, who catcalled over to them as they made their way to the bar.

She ignored them, taking a few unconscious steps toward Roman.

“Would sleeping under the stars be so bad?” Rose whispered, doing an outstanding job at hiding the fear in her voice.

“Unfortunately,” Roman replied, glaring at the lot of them.

They claimed the only vacant table, grateful it was tucked away by a back window.

“Wait here,” he commanded.

She sat stiff as a board on the edge of the rickety wooden chair, staying alert and avoiding eye contact, particularly with the men sitting up at the bar, their gaze lingering for far too long.

Her hands trembled under the table as she tried with all her might to push back the memory that threatened to surface.

A smoky room, packed with men, waiting for the ? —

No .

She shoved the memory back into its dark box, locking it and throwing away the key.

She refused to let it rule her. Instead, she redirected her focus back to Roman, watching him speak with the bartender, a short, stubby man with a large red beard.

Their exchange was brief, offering no clues as to whether they had an open room. She prayed to the gods they didn’t.

Her question was answered as the man handed over two keys in exchange for three silvers and two coppers.

The short man disappeared to the back, only to return with two plates of food moments later.

Roman collected the plates and returned to their table, passing a group of men who threw him envious glances.

They ate in silence, Rose stuffing her face as quickly as possible, eager to retreat to her room. Roman seemed to think along the same lines, taking only a few minutes to clear the simple meal of dark meat, potatoes, and bread, which had gone stale.

Once they were done, Roman led her through the tables to the back of the tavern. They climbed the squeaky wooden stairs up to their rooms, stopping at the last one in the far corner.

“Here’s your key.” Roman handed her a small brass key with the number five on it. “Don’t open the door for anyone but me. Keep it locked at all times. There’s a bath if you need it.”

It was an effort to keep her hands steady as she took it. “Where’s yours?”

“I’ll be in three.” He pointed down the small hall. Just two doors down. “Don’t hesitate to ask for anything if you need it.”

“I won’t.”

The room was dark, lit by a solitary candle that cast heavy shadows.

It was small, to be sure. The bed left much to be desired, its sheets stained and the mattress matted.

She had never considered herself to be spoiled, but as she looked around at the worst room she’d ever stayed in, she realized just how privileged she’d been. She wasn’t about to complain.

However, she would be putting her own blanket over the bed—just in case.

She set her bag down, removed her long black cloak, and draped it over the tattered armchair next to the bed.

She slipped off her dress, leaving her in her slip, eager to wash off the dirt from the road.

She maneuvered around the bed to see if the state of the bathtub was worth the risk—something moved out of the corner of her eye.

To her horror, a figure stepped out of the shadows—a young man, likely about her age, but twice her size and with pointed features. He crept toward her, leering at her with a lustful gaze.

Her eyes widened in recognition. It was the man they’d passed on the road. Acid boiled up her throat, sickened by the fact that he’d purposefully remained quiet to watch her undress.

“My, my, I knew you were beautiful, but without all that fabric, you are positively delicious.” A wicked smile gleamed on his lips as he snaked toward her.

Rose swiveled for her sword, swiping it out of its scabbard. She pointed it at his chest before he could come any closer.

“I’d leave now if I were you,” she warned, her arm steady and fierce. On the inside, her bones shook with fear, but she wouldn’t let him see that. Not an ounce.

He laughed at her, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know how to use that thing, sweetheart?”

“Care to find out?” She stepped forward, daring him to advance.

“Now, now, I just need a little company. With a face like that, it should only take a few minutes. I bet you’ll even enjoy it,” he coaxed with an evil smile.

He lunged, but she acted quicker, stepping aside as she swung at his head so he’d be forced to bend backward to avoid her blade. Just as he did, she kicked the back of his knee in. He crumbled to the ground with a loud thud.

She pressed the tip of her sword to his throat.

He held up his hands, eyes widening with a mixture of irritation and amazement.

“You disappoint me,” she goaded with a cold smile. “I was hoping you’d be more of a challenge.”

Just as she was about to force him to leave, the door burst open. Roman entered, his blade out and ready to wield. But he halted as soon as he saw the scene.

Roman’s pupils turned darker than the bottom of the sea.

He surged forward, snatching the intruder roughly by the collar, lifting him to his feet. He dragged him to the wall and slammed him against it with full force. The man grimaced as his head collided with the hard wood.

“Feel like taking your leave now? Or shall I let the lady finish what she started?” Roman asked in such a dark voice she knew it was the war general in him speaking.

The man had the decency to look scared. He shook his head.

“Luckily for you, I’ve already taken more than enough lives for my lifetime. Apologize, and I’ll let you leave with your life,” Roman snarled.

The man glared over at Rose and said with a forced voice, “I’m sorry.”

“She didn’t quite hear you,” Roman pressed, shoving him harder against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” the man said louder, having difficulty speaking with Roman’s forearm rammed against his neck.

Roman yanked him off the wall and shoved him out the door, then punched him—once, twice, nearly knocking him out cold.

The first opportunity he got, the man cupped his face and ran.

Roman took a step to pursue him?—