Page 13

Chapter 13

Avery

T he first thing Avery noticed was that she was lying on a comfortable mattress with a blanket tucked around her. And yet she had no memory of returning to the inn for the night. She frowned, her eyes still closed, and the memory of the strange sweet returned.

She sat bolt upright, gasping. The blanket slid off her, and she clutched at the satchel, her eyes scanning the room.

Elliot turned toward her from where he had been gazing out the room’s window. The early evening light behind him obscured his features, but she thought he was smiling.

“You’re awake.” He sounded pleased. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be sleeping. Even the stall holder wasn’t sure.”

“You’re still here,” Avery said, ignoring the issue of the sweet for the moment.

Elliot stepped toward the fire, his features becoming clearer. He looked uncertain.

“Sorry,” he said, “but our rooms aren’t next to each other.”

“What?” Avery asked, feeling unusually dense.

“I just assumed we’d have rooms next to each other,” he said. “But mine is all the way down the hall. So I had to stay here. You were asleep so I couldn’t ask what you’d prefer, but I thought…” He trailed off, looking at her satchel.

“Oh,” she said, finally realizing why he was apologizing.

She could feel the shape of the lamp inside the satchel, but there had been no need to check it was still inside. Elliot’s presence proved that. While she had been worrying he might have stolen the lamp and left, he had been concerned about her privacy being violated by his presence in her room. He was busy considering her feelings while she doubted his integrity.

“What happened?” she finally asked.

“Those weren’t just sweets,” he said with a grimace. “That stall holder had come across the river from Oakden.”

“Ohhh,” Avery said, feeling foolish. “I thought it had an odd taste. I should have recognized it.”

Elliot grimaced. “Even if you had, it would have been too late. But you had a child’s dose, so you’ve only been out for a bit over an hour.”

“She knew me.” Avery sighed. “She must have thought I knew who she was.”

“She was very apologetic,” Elliot offered. “If that helps at all.”

Avery nodded, but her mind had already moved onto the second, more pressing point. Elliot’s room was at the end of the hall.

“Did you ask about a room next to mine?” she asked.

Elliot took the change of topic in stride. “Yes, but she said they’re busy because it’s market day. She said there aren’t two rooms next to each other.”

Avery sighed. Yet another pitfall she hadn’t considered.

“How did I get back here?” she asked, swinging topics yet again.

“I carried you.” Elliot said the words simply, but her eyes widened.

It had been far enough from the market to the inn to make that a more impressive proposition than Elliot’s bland words suggested. And he had already been sore from his tumble on the road.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have considered how many traders come across the river for market days.”

She had felt so superior after Elliot’s mistakes on the road, but she’d just been reminded that for all her experience, she could make them, too. It was never a good idea to get complacent when you were traveling. As soon as you got too comfortable, something unexpected happened. It was one of the things she loved about her life.

“It was an easy mistake to make,” Elliot said. “But it seems no harm was done.” He hesitated. “But about tonight…”

She sighed. “You’ll have to stay here with me.”

“I could take the lamp to my room,” he said hesitantly.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. On the one hand, if he wanted to take the lamp and run, he could have done it while she was asleep. But on the other hand, maybe he had stayed on purpose to gain her trust. If she handed over the lamp now, he would have all night to put distance between them before she realized he was gone.

He had caught her in the market and carried her all the way back here, and then he’d watched over her while she slept. She didn’t think he was untrustworthy. But still that kernel of doubt lingered, and it was enough to make her hesitate.

“Well, I guess it’s sharing a room, then,” he said, not showing the offense he might have legitimately claimed. “It’s not really any different from sleeping next to the same fire. And I’m guessing you’ll want to check on Nutmeg, so I’ll use that chance to fetch my bedroll. That rug should be no less comfortable than the ground we’ve been sleeping on recently. Probably softer, in fact.”

Avery winced. Elliot had already been sore when they’d arrived, and his muscles must ache after carrying her so far. He had been looking forward to a proper bed, and now he was going to be back on the ground.

“You should take the bed,” she said quickly, sliding off it. “You need it more than me.”

Elliot shook his head, a stubborn set to his mouth. “I’m the one who foisted myself on you for this trip. My tie to the lamp is my problem, so you shouldn’t have to give up your bed.” Something in his expression softened. “I know you’ve been looking forward to it.”

Avery opened her mouth to remind him of his sore muscles, but there didn’t seem much point. He wasn’t likely to have forgotten about them.

“We’ll share, then,” she said instead.

“What?” Elliot stared at her, his eyes wide, before slowly looking at the narrow bed.

Avery flushed. “I mean, we’ll take turns. We’ve both been looking forward to a proper bed, so we should both get a chance to enjoy it.”

“Oh. Right.” Elliot nodded forcefully. “That makes sense.”

Avery smiled triumphantly. “Since I’ve just had a turn, you can go first. Then, halfway through the night, we’ll swap.”

Elliot looked like he wanted to insist she go first, but she didn’t intend to budge. She was betting that once he sank into that soft mattress, he wouldn’t wake up until morning. And by then it would be too late for him to protest.

“I suppose we both need to bring our bedrolls in, then,” he said, apparently recognizing the determination in her eyes.

She nodded. “And I want to check on Nutmeg.” Her stomach gurgled, and she patted it. “And find some food, apparently! As if I hadn’t just eaten far too many buns.”

“Actually it’s been a while since we ate those,” Elliot said. “A meal would be welcome.”

They ate together in the inn’s dining room, and the food was almost good enough to make up for missing out on a night in a proper bed.

“I would usually visit the women’s bathhouse next,” she murmured after she’d polished off the last bite of food.

Elliot looked up in alarm. “Please don’t make me lurk awkwardly outside the women’s bathhouse! Someone will run me out of town, and I’ll end up so far from the lamp that I’ll drop dead—and it will be all the fault of your cleanliness. Do you really want that on your conscience?”

Avery stifled a laugh. “Fine, then, I’ll give up the hot bath as well.”

Elliot instantly looked contrite. “If you really want to go, I can try to find somewhere unobtrusive to lurk.”

“You do know that would make it worse, right?” Avery said with a gurgle. She led the way up the staircase. “I can survive without a visit to the bathhouse. We’ll be back on the road tomorrow, and I can wash from the stream like I usually do.”

“You should at least let me sleep on the floor first,” Elliot said as they entered the room. “To make up for missing the bath.”

Avery shook her head. “It’s your turn, remember?”

Again Elliot looked like he wanted to argue, but he shot a look at her and remained silent. They didn’t talk as they laid out their bedrolls side by side on the floor, Avery climbing into hers while Elliot slipped into the invitingly soft bed instead.

Avery told herself it would be perfectly easy to fall asleep because it was no different from previous nights in her bedroll with Elliot across the fire. But despite her glib mental reassurances, she couldn’t seem to settle.

She rolled over for the sixth time. Did four walls really make such a difference?

A carriage rolled into the courtyard below bringing late arrivals to the inn. She listened to the stomp of the horses’ hooves and the creak of the wheels and realized she felt exposed without the cart above her and Nutmeg beside her. Between her accidental enchanted sleep and the fight over who would take the bed, she hadn’t considered that being in the inn meant sleeping without Nutmeg’s protection. No wonder it felt different.

Maybe she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. If part of her didn’t trust Elliot, she wouldn’t be able to relax enough to drift…

She stirred slightly, not properly awake, but conscious enough to know an unknown length of time had passed. The fire hadn’t yet burned low, but faint moonlight came through the window.

Strong arms scooped her up, holding her close against a firm chest for the few steps it took to cross the room. A distant part of her brain registered that she should protest, but she was too delightfully sleepy to rouse enough for speech.

As she was placed gently on the bed and blankets were tucked around her, she recognized the sensation. It was the sleepy peace that came with warmth and safety—and knowing you could truly relax because someone else was there to watch over you.

She hadn’t felt that feeling in a long time.

But, no, that wasn’t quite right. If she hadn’t felt that feeling in years, why had those arms been so familiar? She couldn’t remember being carried by them before. She couldn’t remember ever being cradled like that—at least, not since small childhood. And yet, she couldn’t shake how familiar that sensation of sleepy peace while held in safe arms had felt.

And the rumble of Elliot’s voice above her felt equally familiar. “Sleep, Avery. It’s your turn in the bed. I’ll be here in my bedroll.”

Drat, she thought as sleep pulled her fully back under. I thought he wouldn’t wake up.

A very woke to bright sunlight and an empty room. She stretched luxuriously before freezing as memories from the past day and night washed over her. Where was Elliot?

Her panicked hands flew to the satchel, but it was still there, the lump of the lamp inside. She scrambled out of bed, a new source of panic gripping her. What had happened to Elliot? The evening before he had joked about being forced away from the city, but what if?—

She cut off her frantic thoughts. How could someone have seized him from their inn room? From her hazy memories, she had slept embarrassingly deeply the night before, but she never slept that deeply.

The door opened, and she spun toward it, her hand reaching for her closest dagger. But it was only Elliot strolling through with a cheerful smile.

“I fetched a fresh wash jug.” He held up the heavy pitcher in his hands.

Avery frowned, noting the less obvious lines of strain around his mouth and eyes. “Did you have to go far?”

Elliot shrugged. “I can endure a little discomfort, you know. I just can’t sleep through a whole night of it.”

His bright smile returned, and Avery quickly turned away to pack up her bedroll, her cheeks flushing. Apparently she could sleep through more than him because she was pretty sure that when he’d carried her to the bed during the night, she’d snuggled into him. Snuggled!

He whistled as they packed the few items they’d brought up to the room. Apparently spending a chunk of the night on the floor—she strongly suspected it had been more than half—hadn’t dented his mood at all.

“We’ll cross the river here,” Avery said as they ate a final meal in the inn’s dining room. “That way we can use the Marleston ferry. It’s one of the best ones on the river.”

“If we’re crossing over, I assume our next destination is Ethelson?” Elliot asked.

Avery nodded, her mouth full. Swallowing, she added, “I have some good contacts there. I’ll store the cart and most of my goods with one of them, and we can take a boat upriver most of the rest of the way to Bolivere. We’ll move faster without the cart, and my priority is speed over trade now.”

She was glad Elliot didn’t quibble over that comment when she immediately followed it up by asking him to wait while she dashed out to the cart to retrieve a commission. It was hardly delaying them, however, given the intended customer was the cook at the inn.

Avery tried to complete the sale subtly, but Elliot trailed behind and watched it from the doorway to the inn’s kitchen. Observing the delighted surprise and gratitude of the cook hopefully made up for any impatience he might have been feeling.

“What was that all about?” he asked as they finally hitched Nutmeg to the cart and led her through the streets of Marleston toward the river.

Avery shrugged. “Last time I was here, I congratulated the cook on an excellent pie, but she was bemoaning that it didn’t taste the way she remembered from when she was a girl because she couldn’t get the right spices. They only grow in Auldana, and the regular merchants that stock Marleston no longer source them. I was in Auldana a few months ago, and saw some in a small market, so I bought a packet for her.”

“As a gift?” Elliot was clearly surprised.

Avery raised an eyebrow. “No. Didn’t you see her pay for them? I am a merchant, remember.”

“Of course, how foolish of me,” he said lightly, but he didn’t seem to be judging her. Instead, he looked thoughtful.

“My specialty is noticing what wares will be appreciated by which people,” she said proudly. “It might not have been an official commission, but I knew she would want to buy them, and I was right.”

“Impressive,” he said, his voice hard to read.

She watched him out of the side of her eyes as they walked. What was he thinking? She was tempted to ask, but another cart swerved in front of them, nearly causing a collision, and she gave up on the idea. The streets of a busy city weren’t the place for probing questions.

Thanks to Avery’s sleep-in and her small piece of business, they were hardly the first to arrive at the ferry for the day. They found it already in mid-crossing, but Avery didn’t mind waiting. There was always something interesting to see on the Marleston stretch of the river.

“I love the river,” Elliot said, echoing her thoughts. “It brings people together.”

Avery looked sideways at him. She’d never thought about the river borders in quite those terms, but he was right. Since each bank sat in a different kingdom, the powers of both Legacies swirled in the water, allowing the citizens from both sides of the river to use it comfortably.

As if on cue, a gaggle of giggles erupted, pulling her eyes back to the water. A fleet of small orange boats floated downriver toward them, each captained by a child, some with a smaller passenger on board.

Elliot broke into laughter. “Are those pumpkins?”

Avery grinned but didn’t take her eyes from the miniature fleet. When the hollowed-out pumpkins bobbed past them, the children called out and waved. Avery and Elliot both waved back enthusiastically.

“I think my childhood would have been happier if I’d had a pumpkin boat instead of a dragon in a cave,” Elliot said wistfully.

“They’re harder to use than they look,” Avery said. “We visited when I was nine, and I was determined to captain one on my own. The local children weren’t sure, but one of them finally loaned me his boat.” She paused, her eyes crinkling as she remembered the experience. “I promptly rolled it and got tipped out. I had to swim for shore.”

“Did the locals help you?” Elliot asked.

Avery chuckled. “No. After I reached the bank, the other children made me turn around and swim back out to retrieve the boy’s pumpkin. Since I was the one to lose it.”

“Harsh,” Elliot said, respect in his voice.

Not much past the ferry landing, the child in front called out a command to the boats behind him. Paddles flashed through the air as the children retrieved them from inside the pumpkins and leaned over to thrust them into the water. With a few skillful strokes, they steered their makeshift boats to the shore.

Within two minutes, a line of children were making their way up the bank, each pulling a cord attached to their pumpkin. The pumpkins bobbed along in a row, pulled upstream by the children.

Watching them approach brought an old pang to Avery’s heart. She had loved traveling with her parents, but she had always regretted not being part of a group of children.

She glanced carefully at Elliot. He had hinted at unhappiness in his past, but he rarely gave any concrete details. Did he have siblings? Had he grown up as part of a happy group like this?

Nothing in his current expression of indulgent amusement gave any indication of an unhappy past. Maybe she had read too much into his comments?

She would have preferred not to be curious about his past. But she had never been good at suppressing curiosity. And it was even worse with Elliot. Perhaps it was because the longer they traveled together, the more it started to feel like they were a small version of the children’s cheerful gang—as if they were a true team.

She clamped down on the thought. The previous night’s events had been a warning. Avery couldn’t afford to get too comfortable in Elliot’s presence. Not only were the inhabitants of Bolivere at stake, but her own comfort was as well. If she grew too used to traveling with a companion, how would she go back to traveling alone when Elliot was no longer tied to her by the lamp?