5. Owen

The evening air was cool as they made their way to The Crimson Petal, but Owen's whole body was still flushed after kissing Colt in their room. The urge to kiss him and undress him had come over him, but they hadn't gotten far before Gilda and Brom interrupted them, and Owen's face burned at the prospect of his companions walking in on them while they were in the throes of passion.

Needing to get his mind off it all, he asked, "Do you think Clove is alright?"

"I'm sure she's fine, Owen," Colt said. "She's used to being on her own. An animal like her would be run out of this town if she tried to come into it."

Still, he couldn't help but wonder where the wolf had run off to. She'd seemed so interested in them, and now she was gone once again. He would have to look for her when they left Ivormor.

Owen pulled the collar of his cloak around his neck as they passed people loitering on doorsteps. A man standing at the entrance of an alley muttered something to Owen under his breath and jangled something that sounded like keys.

"Fuck off," Colt spat, and the man drew away from his spot.

"What was that about?" Owen asked, turning to look back down the street.

"Don't trust anything these tramps try to sell you."

When they came to The Crimson Petal, Colt flashed his coin purse to the steward at the door, and the man let them in.

They were met with warm air as they came into the main room of the brothel. There was a worn staircase that looked like it had once had carpet up the middle, and there were several tables where men played cards. Others indulged in a game at a long table that involved pushing a small disk with a rod.

Pipe smoke hazed the air, giving off a sweet but pungent smell. The lights were dim, the deep burgundy walls casting a warm feel about the place. In the corners, lounging on chairs and sofas, women and men were dressed in various colored gowns and trousers with feathers in their hair as they flirted with patrons. Two men were dressed in makeup, their shirts half open at the collar.

They hung their cloaks and waited for an empty spot at one of the tables. Owen looked all around, mesmerized by the people and their rowdiness, but a sense of overwhelming tension washed over him. Owen had never been in a place like this before, and he felt out of sorts among all the rugged men smoking, drinking, and playing cards for money.

Colt nudged him. "You want to try your hand in a game?" When Owen shook his head, Colt chuckled. "Right, then. I'll be playing over there. Here, take a few coppers." He slipped a few coins into Owen's hand, then took a vacated seat and paid the dealer a silver piece from his coin purse.

The dealer handed out two cards to three of the players, face down on the table. Colt and the other two men placed their bets. When the dealer laid down the first three cards, he noted that Colt held two pairs already. By the end of the hand, he was surprised to see Colt win with a straight.

Owen knew his companion wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. He just hoped Colt would be able to win them enough money.

There was so much noise in the stuffy room, Owen didn't know what to focus on: the shuffling of cards, the sea of people talking and laughing, the creaky wooden stairs as men and women went up to the rooms, the shattering of glass somewhere in the building, or someone shouting as they were kicked out of the place.

It was all very different from anything Owen had ever taken part in, and Colt looked right at home as Owen watched him from a few steps away. The game he played was quite boring, Owen found, and when another man shooed him away from the table for watching too closely, he was relieved.

The bar on the other side of the room caught his attention, and he made his way over. When the barman asked him what he'd like, Owen asked for honey mead. He paid the barman and sat on a stool.

He eyed one of the men who worked alongside the women out of curiosity. The man was tall and slim, with light purple powder on his eyes and earrings in his ears. His shirt was off, but he wore tight trousers. The women were dressed in even less, and Owen was sure he had just seen one of them pass the bar with no top on at all.

He looked back at his drink, his cheeks burning and his heart pounding.

If Amias knew I was here… he'd slap me upside the head.Owen smiled. No, he'd actually slap Colt upside the head for introducing this whole idea.

His thoughts floated back to their earlier kiss. Colt was the only man he wanted in his bed at the end of the night, and after how heated things had come between them earlier, he hoped it would be soon. Owen had never slept with anyone. In Milarc, it seemed customary to marry first, but he'd overheard many men in his life boast about their visits to brothels while traveling, and he wondered if marriage was even worth it if it only led to wandering to these places later.

But there were men and women he'd met in his life who had been so faithful to each other, that they seemed in love even in their old age.

If I married someone, I would want that.

Taking a sip from his glass, he made a face at the bitterness, but downed a few gulps anyway. The first time he'd ever had such a drink was with Hale Rivers, his best friend he'd left behind in Emberton. No doubt, Hale was preparing to propose to the girl he'd been courting, Molly Thorne. Hale was a distant memory now, feeling far away in his mind, but the image of his sandy blond hair and blue eyes remained. They had been only friends, though if Owen was being honest with himself, he had to admit he often wanted more with Hale. He wasn't sure if he'd even admitted such a thing to himself until this moment.

But now, hazel eyes and dirty-blond hair took up all his senses, and when he looked over at Colt, the taste of lemon and honey surrounded him, much stronger than the honey mead he was drinking. If anything, Colt's sweet taste and tart fragrance heightened it.

He took another long gulp from his mug, hoping to down the whole drink.

"Have you heard the latest about the Hunters?" came a man's voice nearby.

Owen cut his eyes over to see an older gentleman wearing a low top hat speaking to a man with a full beard.

"I'll humor you, Jeran," replied the bearded man. "What's going on now?"

"Several people have gone missing in southern Rookhold. The disappearances are being linked to Hunters."

"Don't they only nab Astrans?"

"Supposedly." Jeran downed his drink and sighed. "But this time, it was regular people."

The other man chuckled and took a sip off his mug. "Where did you get this from, that crackbrained friend of yours who lives on Porter Street? He's known to be a bona fide liar."

Something pulled in Owen's stomach. The rumors about Hunters had reached him even all the way up in Milarc. They were a small group who hunted Astrans and illegally Cleansed them with their own Cores, though he had no idea where such a group would even obtain Cores. In his journey to Pitchvale, it seemed he would have to evade more than Wielders. He hoped the Silent Road would help them find a secret passage through Avathon, if they ever found it.

When Owen looked down to the other side of the bar, he froze, surprised to see a man staring back at him. He looked to be in his forties, with short-cropped, dark-brown hair. His face was handsome, clean-shaven with a wise expression, though something was intimidating about him in a way Owen couldn't quite pin down. Perhaps it was his eyes, so dark they looked almost black. When Owen opened his mind to get a sense of his energy, he was baffled to find he couldn't sense him at all.

A chill sputtered through Owen as the man continued to stare. He tightened his grip on his drink and looked away, but the man moved from his seat and sat beside him.

"Hello," the man started, setting his mug down in front of him. "Are you new around here?"

"Just visiting," Owen got out.

"Alone?"

"I'm here with some family."

"How nice." The man nodded. "I come here often. I like to converse with… new faces."

"Oh?" Owen brought up his drink and sipped the remaining mead.

"Are you looking for entertainment here, or just a drink?"

"Actually"—Owen cleared his throat—"I'm just here with my friend while he plays."

The man looked behind him. "Ah, yes, the card player over there. I saw you come in with him."

He's very observant.

Owen scratched at the wood on the bar. "He came to play cards, but I felt like having a drink."

"The mead's not strong enough here. It never is." He chuckled and downed the contents of his glass. "The name's Rem." He held out his hand and smiled warmly, and Owen took it. Rem's tight grip was sweaty, and something about it made Owen stifle a shudder.

"Owen." As soon as he'd said his name, he wished he hadn't, but now there was no going back.

"I can buy you another drink if you'd like, Owen." Rem flashed a smile.

From the way the man tilted his head, Owen could tell that buying a drink for him was much more than a friendly offer. Rem seemed interested in him, and Owen scratched his neck before looking away, his face burning.

"Oh, no, thank you," Owen told him. "I'll just have this."

He barely had time to conjure up any more words to the stranger before two women in baby-blue dresses and white, lacy frills came up to Owen and hooked their arms around him. On his right, a young woman with curly blonde hair smiled at him, her lips pink and glossy against her fair skin. On his left, the other was brown-skinned with black braided hair and red lips.

"You're cute," the blonde said. "What brings you into The Crimson Petal tonight?"

"Just… waiting on someone."

The black-haired woman took his drink. "Well, you must let us entertain you until your friend meets with you."

"Alright." Owen took the opportunity to escape the conversation with Rem, walking with them to the other side of the room. When he snuck a look back, Rem winked at him as he got up from the bar and left as well.

Owen stole a glance at Colt's card table, only to find his companion smirking at him behind his deck of cards. Owen narrowed his eyes.

Did Colt set me up? I'm going to kill him.

"My name's Lia," the blonde said. "And this is Iris. Do you want to come upstairs?"

"No, but I'm a bit hungry," Owen replied.

"Let's go find you some food, then," Iris said.

They got him a plate of food, and Owen wandered off with the two women to a sofa in another quieter room. They urged him to try fresh strawberries and sliced ham over honey bread, then gave him mead to wash it down with. He drank it and glanced around when he saw a woman sitting half-naked in a man's lap.

Owen looked away, his cheeks warm. He was about to leave when Iris pushed him down and sat beside him. They gave him another drink from the bar, except it was much stronger to taste.

"So, what brings you here, love?" Lia asked, relaxing her arm behind him.

Owen puckered his face at the bitter drink. "I'm here with my companion. He's playing cards."

She giggled. "Oh, yes, we've met him already. He sent us over to you."

"I had a feeling."

Iris leaned forward. "You don't seem very pleased."

Owen twiddled his thumbs, trying to think of a way to tell this woman without insulting her that he didn't intend to sleep with her. Colt had meant to tease him, but these women didn't know that he wasn't here to partake in any services, whether he had eyes for Colt or not. He cut his eyes over at Colt, wishing he could hold his companion's rough hand and feel his gritty face against him, longing for his presence instead.

"Well," he started, "I'm with someone else, someone I care deeply for. I hope you don't mind just… talking?" He gave each of them half a copper piece from his coin purse.

Lia and Iris smiled at one another and settled deeper into the sofa. "We can talk for a little while. Your friend said your name is Morris. That right?"

Morris? What kind of name is that, Colt?

Owen nodded, took a few more gulps to finish his drink, and licked his lips. "What is this?"

"Some rather strong spirits mixed with fruits. Would you like another?" Lia asked.

"Oh no, I'm fine, really."

Iris smiled. "I'll go get you one anyway."

When she returned with another drink, Owen reluctantly drank it, and before long he was in lively conversation with Lia and Iris before one of the men working there sat down next to him.

"If these women aren't satisfying you, perhaps I could tempt you?" the man asked.

Lia rolled her eyes and told the man, "Morris is staying loyal to his beloved."

"How lovely," the man sighed, craning his head down to look at him. He was tall and lanky, his face soft amid the dim light. "Are they here with you?"

"I… yes, he is actually," Owen stuttered.

"Oh, must be his friend playing cards." Iris giggled.

Owen bit his lip before he said, "He's amazing, and very good to me…"

"Well, you and I can be something to each other, if you want." The slender-looking man placed a hand on Owen's shoulder and winked. "Surely he wouldn't mind?"

"That's… nice of you, but I…"

When Owen spotted Colt coming his way, he tried to sit up straighter. This was the man he wanted, coming right for him. This man who made his heart race and his body burn.

"Excuse me, but I believe that one's with me," Colt said.

"I wouldn't dream of giving him up," Lia said, putting an arm around him.

Owen smiled. "I can always come back tomorrow night," he said, his eyes drooping.

Colt pulled Owen up and straightened his collar. "Think you'll have enough coin?"

"I didn't give it all away," Owen mumbled.

"Come on, back to the inn with you."

"My offer's still open," called the man.

"Goodnight, ladies, gent," Colt said, and pulled Owen away.

The women waved after them.

The night air was frigid, making Owen's clammy skin rise with goosebumps as he tugged on his cloak. He staggered as he made his way down the street, but Colt grabbed his hand as they walked. They garnered a few stares from a few homeless men on the street corners, but none of them spoke a word.

When they came to the inn, Colt had Owen lean up against the wall of the porch, then he took out his pipe and lit the tobacco with a match. "Let's get some fresh air before we go in," he said.

Owen looked up at the wood beams of the porch, his mind swirling. He closed his eyes as the cold breeze caressed his flushed cheeks. He was drunk, and he felt more daring in his talk than usual.

"Why did you send those women after me?" he asked. "Were you embarrassed by me?"

Colt raised an eyebrow through the pipe smoke. "I'd never be embarrassed by you."

"Then why did you spring those women on me? To get me drunk?"

"I didn't know you'd drink."

Owen rubbed his neck and shivered. He frowned and looked down with glossy eyes. "I paid them to talk. I feel foolish."

"Who cares what they think, Owen?" Colt looked around nervously before he stood before him, and Owen could feel the flustered and distracted energy coming from him. Colt cleared his throat and looked away. "I saw that man talking to you at the bar."

Owen narrowed his eyes. "So?"

"So… was just making sure he wasn't some Legion scout." Colt stepped in closer. "Or, you know, someone who saw something he liked."

Owen's heart skipped a beat, and suddenly it all made sense. The flustered energy, Colt's distracted eyes. Smiling, Owen said, "He wanted to buy me a drink."

"Ah, so he was sweet on you. And if I hadn't gotten those girls to steal you away from the bar, would you have let him buy you that drink?"

Tilting his head up, Owen furrowed his brows as he took in this tall, roguish man, then he let out a laugh and turned his face toward the drizzle blowing his way. "Colt O'Malley, jealous of some older man talking to me at a bar? I never…" He shook his head. "After getting a taste of you, you honestly think I'd want another man?"

Colt shrugged, smiling. "I don't have a lot to offer, you know."

The smile faded from Owen's face. "That is… the dumbest thing I've heard you say. I want you, Colt, more than anyone I've ever known."

"Right." Colt puffed from his pipe and glanced away to blow out the smoke. "Maybe soon, huh? We'll pick up where we left off earlier."

"No, I mean…" Owen grabbed his hand gently and gazed up at him, until Colt blinked, looking baffled. "I want you, Colt. I want to know you, to hold your hand and… I don't know, maybe pick apples in an orchard and make apple dumplings together or something. I want to know you more." He brought Colt's hand to his face.

His companion's eyes softened, and Colt's thumb made gentle circles against his cheek. "I'd like that, Owen."

When Colt smiled, gazing down at him with his warm hand still on Owen's face, Owen melted. He placed a hand on Colt's hip and said, "Kiss me goodnight out here?"

Colt smiled crookedly before he let out a breathy laugh and gently kissed Owen's cheek. Then he snuffed out his pipe and took Owen's hand to lead him upstairs.

In their room, Owen found Brom asleep on the floor pallet, but Gilda sat up in her bed. When they staggered in, she cocked her head and sniffed the air.

"I had a feeling you'd both come back drunk," she muttered.

"Not me, just him," Colt said, as he helped Owen to the bed. "But you'll forgive me once I divvy out my winnings. We can get some new clothes and move out tomorrow."

"Remind me not to drink again for a long time," Owen responded. He was careful of Brom on the floor as he made his way to the bed and pulled off his boots. "You didn't have to wait on us, you know."

"Yes, I did," Gilda said.

Owen narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I'll tell you when you're sober. Get some sleep now." She smiled at him before she laid back down.

Owen was too tired to talk anymore. As his head hit the pillow, he snuggled against it and curled onto his side. He dozed quickly, and when he felt someone getting into the bed beside him, he opened his eyes to see Colt. Then he felt his companion's strong arms pulling him close, and the warmth that surrounded Owen was so good, he fell asleep quickly.

The next morning, a cool breeze blew into the tailor's shop, ruffling Owen's hair as he browsed the shelves. He glanced at Gilda as she talked with the shop owner, who seemed to fancy her.

Owen had already found a new beige shirt and a pair of dark-brown trousers, as well as a thick green outer coat to wear. He was thankful Colt had won them enough money to buy such things, but Owen was afraid of spending it too quickly.

"Oh, these will do just fine," Gilda said, as she took up two spools of thread.

"I have new needles as well," the shop owner said. "Though I'm afraid I'll have to let them go at full price."

"I have plenty of needles. I only need the thread and boots." She held up a pair of brown leather boots with silver buckles.

At this, Owen sighed and made his way to her. "Gilda, I told you I'm fine with the boots I have."

When she turned to look at him, her expression was so sharp that Owen backed off.

"But, you know, I suppose you can do what you want with your own money." He put up his hands in defeat. He needed new boots, but he couldn't bear the thought of Gilda paying so much for them.

Gilda looked over the counter and squinted at the shelves on the wall. "I'll need a new thimble as well if I'm going to patch any clothes on the road."

The man took several from the shelf and displayed them for her. She took the plainest one and added it to her growing supplies.

Owen waited patiently for her, glancing around at the other goods. There were a few books in the back, but they were mainly expensive ledgers. Their wide covers made him think of his mother's folklore book.

"Ready?" Gilda asked, gathering her things.

Nodding, Owen carried his new boots and clothes. "Thank you," he said. "I wish you hadn't, though. I planned on patching my boots along the way."

"That's silly, Owen," Gilda snapped. "Your boots are already so worn the soles have holes. You can't keep patching those without a cobbler. If you're going to travel, you need good boots and sturdy clothing. I won't allow any of you to be cold or uncomfortable."

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled and put an arm around her, squeezing her tight. "I do love them."

She nodded, satisfied, as they made their way to the inn, where they found Brom packing provisions for them to leave in the next hour or so. Smoked gouda had been wrapped in cloth, as well as sausage links, dried fruits, and vegetables. There were also several small sacks filled with oats, seeds, and seasonings.

"Are you really planning on bringing all this?" Gilda asked.

Owen set down their supplies and glanced at all the food items sitting out.

Brom shrugged. "How else are we supposed to eat?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "How long do you think we'll be on the road from here to Pitchvale?"

"A few days or so, I'd gander."

"And you need all this?" Her voice rose.

Brom tied off a sack. "I require a lot of food. And the seasonings will last us a while."

"So then you're carrying it all, are you?" Gilda crossed her arms, her brows raised as she waited for an answer.

"I'll carry some, woman. Good gods, do you want to starve on the road?" Brom nodded to her supplies on the table. "As if you don't have a good bit there as well."

"Do you want holes in your trousers and shirts?" When Brom said nothing, she followed in with, "Thought so."

"Colt and I can carry some, too." Owen bit back a smile. "Or should we leave you two on your own?"

"You can carry the pots and pans. We only need the large skillet. Lose the others." She sighed as she looked over everything. "So, we have the food and the sewing supplies. Owen has new boots, we have new clothes for winter, and an overabundance of cookware." She eyed the extra pots and pans on the table and shook her head. "Did you even buy those? I hope not."

Brom shrugged as he put down another skillet on the table.

Gilda picked it up and pointed it at him. "I said only the big one."

"That one's for eggs!"

"I'm about to use it to knock some sense into you." As she turned away, Brom winked at Owen with a smile.

Colt came into the room amid the conversation, holding a new bow and quiver. "What'd I miss?" he asked, looking at them all.

"Nothing besides which stolen pans we should carry." Gilda shook her head. "Just an idiot with cookware. Now, as for the trip, the only thing we'll need to worry about is our coin. We can take turns buying food supplies, but eventually, it'll run out. Let's hope Pitchvale will solve all our problems."

"I never put this much thought into traveling before," Brom said.

"That's because you hardly think," Gilda replied.

"That's three for Gilda, zero for you so far today, Brom," Colt said, chuckling.

Brom made a face. "What, you're keeping tabs on how many times she makes a smart-ass remark?"

"Right, I am. Owen's got tabs on you." Colt turned to Owen and said, "You're gonna owe me those coppers I gave you back by the end of the day."

"You're making bets on us?" Gilda's brow perked up.

When they both glared at Owen, he froze, hesitating before he said, "Um… I have to go to the privy," and made his way out of the room.