Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

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S HOPPING WITH SASKIA IS LIKE A FEVER DREAM. FINNIAN picked out a few patterns he liked within the first hour we got here, but she won't let me off the hook that easily, not that I mind. Saskia has a keen eye for fashion and placed an order for some new winter attire.

"I promise just one last gown," she says with an excited smile while holding a swatch of fabric.

"You said that for the past five gowns." Ryder's annoyed tone drifts from the front of the shop where he and the others are camped out on couches.

"Leave if you wish. I'd prefer it." She places one hand on her hip, and the other points at a rack of clothes as if Ryder will materialize within the tulle he's hidden behind. "You'll practically live in sweaters when you come to the border, but you'll need the day gowns for political meetings and dinners. Ball gowns can be ordered as we need them."

"The border?" I ask.

"That's where the three of us spend most of our time. You'll be there soon enough." She hushes my next question by holding up a champagne-colored fabric in her hands. "This would look good on you."

I place my hand on the fabric, lowering it so I can see her face again. "How about I pay for the stuff we already sorted out and get the testy trio to the tavern?"

"Yes!" Finnian and Ryder shout in tandem, but Cayden's voice doesn't join the mix.

"What happened to solidarity?" Ryder asks in a hushed voice.

"I wasn't aware that the two of you rehearsed the response," Cayden fires back.

"So you do want to go to the tavern," Ryder remarks.

"Obviously, I want to go to the fucking tavern." Cayden's attempt at whispering fails.

"How I love having a woman around." Saskia sighs while throwing an arm around my shoulders and guiding me to the counter so I can settle my bill, but Cayden is already there, signing his name to a piece of paper.

"What are you doing?"

"Signing an order for all innocents to be slaughtered in the night," he responds without looking up.

I step forward and blanch at the number at the bottom of the receipt; perhaps I got too carried away. "You can't pay for this."

"Spend more if you want me to break a sweat, angel." He hands the order form to the owner and directs his next statement to her. "Please include gowns made from the fabrics Princess Elowen said were too much in the silhouettes she favors with cloaks, shoes, and gloves to match." He spins on his heels while I'm picking my jaw up from the floor, and Saskia pulls me forward. Ryder and Finnian are already rushing from the shop by the time I get my wits about me.

"There's no point in arguing," Saskia says. "Once his mind is made up there's no changing it."

"I don't want to be viewed as charity."

"Does he strike you as a charitable man?" She huffs a laugh. "He wouldn't have paid if he didn't want to."

I momentarily swallow my pride as we enter the Tipsy Troll and noise instantly pummels my senses. It's deafening, given the mixture of rowdy drunks and the usual tavern sounds.

"Take the ladies to a table while Finnian and I order drinks!" Ryder shouts above the noise.

Saskia keeps her hand laced through mine while I hold Cayden's arm. I suppose him being taller than most men has its advantages. Copper lanterns hang from ceiling beams, high enough so people don't hit their heads but low enough to illuminate the sea of tables of varying heights and sizes. Several patrons are playing or watching card games, placing bets on upcoming horse races and fights, but my favorite is the dancing taking place on the other side of the tavern. Couples intertwine, sway, and leap to a merry jig played by fiddles, drums, and pipes. There's an upper floor, but Cayden guides us toward a table nestled in a stone-covered corner framed by dark wood. As we pass, people throw smiles and bow in his and Saskia's direction.

"I can't believe it." I tilt my head so Cayden can hear me while I remove my cloak. "There are people here who actually like you."

"Funny." Cayden slides his leather jacket off before taking the chair beside mine. "I thought the same thing when you said goodbye to your guards."

"You have a natural talent for vexing me."

He pulls his sleeves up, exposing his muscular forearms and scars. "That's precisely why I reserve my worst qualities for you."

"You have good qualities?"

He smirks and says, "You'll see them one day."

Finnian and Ryder return to the table with a tray of twenty tiny glasses filled with whiskey. "We placed an order for other drinks that'll be brought over, but in the meantime . . ." Finnian waves his hands over the tray and plops down on my other side.

"The two of you aren't allowed to gauge how many shots to order," Saskia mutters, staring at the tray like it's about to bite her but grabbing a shot like the rest of us.

"We should toast," Finnian suggests while holding his shot in the air. He nudges me with his elbow. "Help me."

I search my brain, trying to come up with something as four sets of eyes settle on me. "To having a common enemy?"

"Fair point," Ryder acknowledges. "I'll drink to that."

"To wanting to murder the same people and not each other!" Finnian cheers as we clink our glasses and throw back the whiskey.

We're a really fucked-up group.

I think I like it.

We keep going until there are no shots left. I slam my fourth empty glass on the table, feeling delightfully giddy.

"That's my girl!" A broad smile covers Finnian's face as he takes in my warm cheeks. Alcohol goes straight to my head. I'm a lightweight, and he loves it. Downing four shots in a row probably wasn't the best decision, but bad decisions often lead to the best memories.

I cup my hands around my mouth and lean toward his ear to say, "We should get more."

He chuckles softly. "Cider first."

"What if I chase every shot with a sip of cider?"

"I can't encourage your bad ideas in front of the new people. Save them for later." I'm sure everyone else can hear our conversation judging by their snickers . . . maybe we weren't as quiet as I thought.

"Your drinks," says a male server while placing them around the table, giving Finnian a double take. I nudge him with my leg, and he nudges me right back. Finnian meets the server's eyes while taking a sip from his pint. Color rises on the server's tan cheeks. "Let me know if you need anything else," he mutters before scurrying toward the bar.

"I love bubbles," Saskia marvels while looking at the glass of cider in front of her.

"They're like friends inside your drink." I sigh.

"Exactly!" She claps her hands in front of her, causing Ryder to jump in his seat and Cayden to snicker again. "When do you go back to the border, Cayden?"

"Yes, normally you'd be there by now. I wonder what's different this time." Ryder leans back in his seat, easing one leg over the other while clutching his pint and taking a sip.

"Soon," Cayden replies shortly.

"When can I go?" I ask.

"When I'm sure it's safe," he answers.

He seems to be in a broody mood, so I don't push. He's fully aware I can take care of myself, and I'd rather not sprint headfirst toward the Imirath army without being prepared. The other three have fallen into a conversation and—oh gods! What if one of them tells Finnian about the heist before I do? I forgot to ask Cayden if they know. My brain is too fuzzy to process all the damage that could cause. I bite my lip, and my hands tighten around my cool glass. The chilling sensation is helping me keep my nerves at bay.

Cayden dips his hand between us and pulls my chair closer to his before draping his arm across the back of it. "What's wrong?"

Perhaps it's the alcohol that makes my lips loose because I find myself inching closer to his ear, close enough for our thighs to press together. "Do they know . . ." I can't exactly talk about the heist in an open tavern. "Do they know what we're planning?"

I pull my face back so I can see him again. It takes a second for him to register my words, but he subtly shakes his head no. Relief floods through me like a dam breaking.

The music abruptly changes.

Finnian stands from his seat and bows while offering me a hand. "You owe me a dance, my lady."

"We'll talk later," Cayden says into my ear.

I place my hand in Finnian's, which is the only thing that keeps me steady while rushing to the dance floor. The alcohol in my body washes over me with a fresh wave of giddiness. He stands a few feet in front of me, hands clasped behind his back. The first note sounds; it's a sharp beat of a drum, and Finnian bows at the waist, outstretching his hand again. The second note sounds, and I curtsy. The third note sounds, and I place my hand in Finnian's. I twirl under his arm, his hand clasps around my waist, and we join the thrall of dancers.

"He hasn't taken his eyes off you," Finnian shouts over the music.

He doesn't have to say Cayden's name. There's nobody else he could be talking about. We left the conversation on an unfinished note. Maybe he's watching me because he's wondering if I'll tell Finnian right now.

"He's guarding me. It's part of his job," I reason.

Finnian snorts, spinning me again and resuming the steps. "He never complained once during dress shopping. He looked like he wanted to ram his head through a wall, but he never said a single thing."

We both stumble slightly, but it only adds to the joy building in my chest from a mixture of music, dancing, and cider. A smile beams on my face as Finnian lifts me in tandem with another sharp drumbeat. He places me back on my feet, and we follow the rest of the steps as best as our floundering feet allow us.

"Stop meddling!" I laugh. "We're allies, and I already told Ailliard nothing will happen."

"I know men, darling." I don't like the way his tone is changing. "When this dance is over, go to the bar. I give it five minutes before he's there."

"Finnian, you're being ridiculous. That proves nothing," I say as we finish the final steps.

"If it proves nothing, then do it. You have nothing to lose." We stop in place, and some people in the tavern clap while shouting their song requests. "I'll keep my eyes on you the whole time. I'm staying on for another dance." He treads backward and finds a man with long blond hair to dance with next.

I roll my eyes and fist my dress so I don't trip over the hem on my way to the bar or let it drag through anything unsanitary. My eyes spot an opening at the counter, and I slide into it, placing my elbows on the wooden surface while glancing at the different barrels of wine, cider, and ale behind it.

"Well, aren't you a beauty," a gruff voice next to me states. I was so preoccupied reading the names of all the places the barrels are imported from that I didn't realize someone had approached me. A man in black armor inches forward. His black beard is cut close to his face, and his dark eyes bore into me.

I don't offer a response, but that doesn't stop him from leaning farther into my personal space, stretching a hand toward my arm. I'm about to swat it away when someone cages me in their arms and pins his wrist to the bar.

"I was wondering what time you want to leave?" Cayden asks calmly in my ear as if he's not making a grown man squirm beneath his firm grip. I spin in his arms and press my back into the bar so I can look at him. His tone may be calm, but he's far from it. That icy glare of his is on the man's face, and I have a feeling he's committing it to memory. "I'm going to assume you didn't see her stumble on her way over here," Cayden snarls before turning his intensity on me. "What did he say to you? I saw you stiffen."

"He said I was pretty."

"Damn understatement," he mutters. My breath catches in my throat, but he can't hear it over the roar of the tavern or his raging temper.

"C-Commander," the man whimpers.

"Leave," Cayden says, shoving the man back with enough force that he loses his footing. The man scrambles to his feet, slipping on spilled drinks, and hurries away. My eyes pop over to Finnian, and he flashes me one of the biggest smirks I've ever seen. I don't even think I was standing here for two minutes before Cayden came over.

"So, am I not allowed to speak to any men while I'm here?" Taunting him is far too inviting.

"I'm a man. Talk to me."

"I was about to hit him before you stole the show," I say, swaying between his arms.

The ice melts in his eyes as they follow my movements. "Would you have even been able to land the hit?"

"Want me to prove it, demon?"

His sneer has vanished, and I know I'm in dangerous territory because the only thought my alcohol-addled brain can manage is how handsome he looks. "I'm feeling like a gentleman. I'll give you the first shot."

"You're not a gentleman. You're insufferable," I say, more so to remind myself of who we are. Our goals matter more than drunken wants.

"Insufferable?" He quirks a brow, sliding his hands along the bar to lean closer to my face. "Have you wondered why you adore making yourself suffer? It's quite concerning, El."

"Don't call me that. You make it sound like we're friends."

His dimples deepen. "I think we're becoming very good friends."

"You're delusional," I breathlessly argue while fighting a smile.

"Oh yeah?"

I open my mouth to make another retort when a cold drink slides down the front of my gown. Cayden's glare is back in full force as he reaches toward the man responsible.

His eyes glance between Cayden and me. "I'm so sorry. I lost my balance."

"Calm down. It's nothing a bath can't fix." I reach for Cayden's outstretched hand and rein it back in, ignoring the weight of it in mine, and slowly push him away from the bar. His thin cotton shirt lets me feel the defined ridges of his muscles. "People will think we're more than allies if you continue acting like this."

"Let them think whatever they want. You and I have larger threats to concern ourselves with."

"It's not that simple." My people need this treaty signed before winter comes, and I don't want rumors about Cayden and me making me seem like an inept ruler. I must wear an impenetrable mask and never let anyone see through it. It's both my armor and my burden. "I appreciate your generosity in the shop, but—"

"I paid for Finnian as well." His heat is pinned on me now. "I brought you here. I paid for your attire. There's no ulterior meaning."

"Right." The flower he tucked behind my ear feels far too heavy, and the hand on his chest feels far too personal. I drop it away along with my eyes. "We should return to the castle."

Finnian has made his way back to the table, so I wave to the others and ignore the way Cayden is still looking at me like he wants to say something else. Our hands are covered in thorns, and every touch, no matter how innocent, draws more blood.