Page 2

Chapter Two

Victor

“ W hat a lovely inn, burn it all to the ground.”

I ignore the voice as I push open the doors to the inn, holding it open as Talyria steps through. I follow her in and am met by the sound of the lute. Oncoming storm or not, my father’s inn is still the only real place to spend your evening in this town. With plenty of flowing drinks and the companionship of other patrons, many people visit here nightly, even those who live just down the road.

I immediately spot Estelle, sitting in her usual spot, her long brown hair wrapped once around itself to keep it out of her face as she works in the bakery all day with her parents.

I give my head a hard shake when I realize that my eyes immediately sought her out. I’m a married man, besides Estelle has had since we were children to ever reciprocate my feelings. I wasn’t enough for her, no one in this small town is. She dreams of a daring swashbuckling adventurer who will sweep her off her feet. I think it’s part of the reason why I kept throwing myself from place to place. I went from the Academy of Magickers to join the guards, all in an attempt to be interesting enough for Estelle to see me as more than just a friend.

My desperate attempt to win her love is what brought me right into the path of that kraken and probably the reason I married Talyria so suddenly. After my death experience, I’d promised myself I’d stop trying to become the man I thought Estelle wanted. I was only putting myself in dangerous situations anyway. However, it’s still hard to get over the woman I’d pined for since I was six, so I figured what better way than to marry the first stranger I came across who seemed remotely interested in me.

As an aside, I do blame Likho for my poor decision-making skills.

One of Estelle’s hapless admirers is sitting across from her, another regular. Lev was a few years younger than Estelle and me, although his brother was our schoolmate. His older brother Gregory and I always clashed. He’d pick on me, but then I found out it was just because he was being loyal to his younger brother and knew I liked Estelle too. Gregory and I eventually reached a sort of comradery. Perhaps not quite a friendship, but it was him who got me into the assignment I had in the guards after my stint at the college failed as it proved I had no magical aptitude.

He died on that ship too…

Lev looks up as I walk in, and I give him a small nod. He presses his lips together and then turns back to Estelle. “Are you going to be heading home soon?”

“And be forced to help clean the bakery?” she asks with a laugh. “Skyhold no.”

So, Estelle will probably be staying the night. It certainly isn’t the first time she has, after all we are an inn and even though she lives just down the street, she likes the independence of staying anywhere than under her parents’ roof. Hey, it will be more coins in my father’s coffers.

I just wished it wasn’t so awkward to have to spend my wedding night under the same roof as the woman that I’ve pined for most my life.

I quickly turn my attention to the rest of the inn. We have two town guards present who are so deep in their cups that they will likely not be making it to their quarters before curfew.

Other than them, there are a few other people that I don’t recognize. A massive Highlander man, sitting alone in the corner with a book open in front of him. It’s a bit of a strange sight. He looks like a barbarian, a follower of his people’s old ways with half his head shaved and the rest bound up in a braided bun. Despite the cold, he is sleeveless giving credence to what I’ve heard that Highlanders don’t properly experience the cold, and one whole arm is covered in ink as a pattern of tattoos weave their way up his arm telling a story that probably only he can understand.

There’s also a short, nervous looking man wearing orange robes as he sits at the bar. Orange is normally a color reserved for the priests, so I wonder which god he serves, and why he is here instead of spending the night in someplace that has less iniquity.

And of course, our bard. My cousin who took a few lessons before my father hired her. I do think she is getting better… finally.

We have certainly been busier, but I suppose the storm can be blamed for that. Many of our customers are locals who spend the evening here, drinking and socializing with their neighbors like Estelle and Lev. However, most of our other regulars have enough good sense to be holed up at right now.

The other half of our customers are usually sailors, and there are no ships coming in with a storm like that.

It makes me glad that I took this trip. After the disastrous end to my career as a guardsman, I’ve been between jobs. So, I picked up a hobby of liberating other people from their coins.

My father has no idea that the money I’ve been sending home is stolen or what my little trips have actually been to travel to Reglagrad and other places where everyone has too heavy of coin purses.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and what would hurt him is if I don’t send money home to him.

It’s Likho’s fault, anyway, that I turned to such a dishonest trade after being a guard. He’s the one who suggested it. He said that being honest never got me anything but a broken neck and a childhood friend who flirts with every sailor that docks in our town.

“I’m just the voice inside your head. You’re the one who acts on it.”

Sure, because it’s so easy to refuse a demigod. Let alone one that has taken up residence in your mind.

Still, he sometimes has some half-decent ideas even though I do have to sort through all his crazed comments to try to get me to cause as much chaos as possible.

I pull my coin purse out of my satchel and step up to the bar, placing it just in front of my father who is hunched over scrubbing vehemently at a stain on the grainy wood. He startles and glances up, his bearded face breaking into a wide grin as he sees me. “Victor, my lad! Your timing is impeccable; you beat the storm.”

I hold my arms out, “What can I say—?” I begin, but my father is already done greeting me and is back to his role as an innkeeper. He thrusts a flagon full of a frothy drink in my hand.

“Good, you can make yourself useful. Our guest Lief needs another drink.”

I turn in a half circle. “And Lief is…”

“He’s the only Highlander here who isn’t a regular, you dolt,” my father says as he returns to scrubbing the table. “He’s the golden-haired fellow in the corner.”

“Oh, the one who looks like he drinks out of skulls,” I reply.

“Keep your voice down, lad,” my father hisses even though no one can hear anything over dear cousin Vera’s lilting voice. “Besides, I’m sure they don’t keep up that barbaric practice anymore. We live in a civilized age.”

“Yeah sure,” I reply with a snort. “The dead have an unfortunate habit of walking around now, but at least we’re civilized.”

“Lucky for you, eh?”

I take a step forward, but trip and nearly spill the drink when I see Talyria standing there with her hand on her hip.

“Oh,” I say after a moment.

She gives a little nod. “Oh, yes.”

I wince. I’d blame Likho for the holes in my memory. After all, it’s exhausting to share a whole other entity in your mind. Things are bound to slip through the cracks. The only problem is that Talyria doesn’t happen to know about Likho.

Or the fact that I died because I was a guardsman.

And on the subject of what she does or doesn’t know, she also doesn’t know that I’m a thief.

Really, all she knows is that I’m the son of an innkeeper and it would probably be best off keeping it that way.

“I want to make a comment for future reference that lying to your wife was not my idea. You came up with that all on your own.”

Sure, because it’s so easy to distinguish between thoughts in my head all the time. Sometimes I can’t keep track of where Likho ends and I begin.

“Who is this?” father asks, leaning forward on the bar. “Need a room and meal, miss?”

“I was kind of hoping for something of the sort,” she replies dryly.

“That will be six crowns—” father begins.

I whirl on my heel, moving so fast that this time the frothing liquid spills out on my fingers. “Actually, this one will be on the house.”

“On account of what?” father demands. “You know this isn’t good business, no matter how pretty you think she is. Although I’ll admit it’s a relief to see you starting to notice someone other than—”

I clear my throat, cutting my father off before he brings up how many times I’ve given Estelle a discount. “On account of her being my wife.”

Naturally as soon as I state that, Vera stops singing and the whole inn is quiet. Quiet enough for everyone to hear. It takes every ounce of my willpower to not glance over at Estelle to see how she reacts to this. After all, what she thinks doesn’t matter anymore.

I smile slightly, swallowing hard at my father’s shocked face. “Surprise.” Then like the coward I am, I turn quickly and hurry to give our guest his drink. After all, the man has waited long enough for his ale, and it just isn’t good business to keep a guest waiting.