Chapter 5
Cricket
It's obvious Julian is struggling, but he hasn't uttered a single complaint. He follows me with dogged determination. His uneven gait alerts me to the limp he's developed over today's long distance.
I considered stopping early to set up camp, but the air smells of rain. A warm bed and a solid roof over my head are more important than coddling the stalker I've acquired.
At least that's what I tell myself each time he trips over a root and gasps out a whimper of pain.
I'm tired as well, but an able-bodied adult ought to be fit enough to walk a day's stretch without completely falling apart. So we continue.
The stubborn part of me pushes past exhaustion until we reach the mining town of Ember Crest. I remember the village from my journey north. An inn called The Merry Goblet has the best tomato pie I've ever eaten, and I intend to wolf down a slice before passing out in a rented bed for a nap.
To the blasted Gatekeeper with Julian. If he wants to stop early, he'll have to learn to speak up.
As we approach the village, the air becomes smoky with a metallic edge, like a blacksmith's shop is nearby. We arrive at the town square in the late evening. It's past supper time, but I'm holding out hope the kitchen's still open.
Choppy steps scrabble closer from behind. "You're moving with the purpose of a man who knows his destination," says Julian. He even sounds tired. "Where are we going?"
"I'm going to the inn."
"This town has an inn?" The relief in his voice is palpable. "Oh, thank the maiden of the stars. There's no amount of money I wouldn't pay for a proper bed tonight. Tell me we're staying indoors."
"We're staying indoors," I lie. He's staying, and I'm ditching him. At least I'm going to try. No way he'll be in any mood to catch up with me when he realizes I have a huge head start tomorrow morning. He'll be sore and cranky. With any luck, he'll give up.
Julian walks alongside me, masking his limp as best he can, though he's not fooling anyone. Having a destination in sight has given him a burst of energy. Not me, but I'm hoping a full belly will perk me up.
Ember Crest isn't a big town, but it does boast many a jewelry and gem shop, so it's on the trading route of Luminia's finest merchants.
I care not for expensive rocks and trinkets or spending money on things I can't use or eat, so the town holds little appeal to me beyond the tomato pies.
Julian, however, gawks at every shop window we pass until we arrive at the far end of the main street where The Merry Goblet stands a celestial four stories high. It's a looming building of dark wood and black trim. An enormous wooden carving of an overflowing goblet—taller than me, with bubbles dripping over the side—hangs from brass hooks over the double doors of the entryway.
I open the door for Julian. Despite my grumpy attitude, I do possess manners. It creaks and groans on rusty hinges.
As he passes by me, the air around him shimmers darkly. There's a spark to it, like the zing of a lightning storm, and he changes. His features blur, his face is shadowed, and if I didn't know this was Julian, if I hadn't seen him shift with my own eyes, I wouldn't recognize him.
The coin, as if it senses his sorcery, is excited, warm, and vibrating against my chest. The urge to let it know I'm fine, not to worry, courses through me. I don't know why Julian is using his magic to disguise himself, but it's not directed at me. He let me watch.
Show-off.
I follow him inside. The scent of barley wine ale, melted cheese, and stewed tomatoes combine to a rich aroma that makes my stomach growl and my mouth water.
Julian chuckles. "I heard that."
We pass mostly empty tables, though three still have guests, and we head to the bar where a dozen patrons are drinking and chatting. Thank the stars the bulk of the crowd has long since scattered.
A human barkeep gives a tired but friendly smile. "What can I get you?" she asks, gaze darting from Julian-but-not-Julian to me and back, none the wiser he's wearing a false face.
We speak at once, him about the rooms and me about the pie. After staring each other down for a moment longer than necessary, we take turns.
I go first. "Two pints, please, and tell me. Is the kitchen still serving tomato pies?"
"You're in luck. I think I can wrangle up a couple."
Though it pains me to ask, I suffer through the next part. "Any chance you can make one of them with no cheese?"
"No cheese?" She knits her thick brown brows. "But that's the best part."
"I agree wholeheartedly, but he doesn't eat the stuff." I hitch my thumb toward Julian. "He's an herbivore."
"What, like a bunny?"
Laughter chokes out of me as I picture Julian nibbling at a head of lettuce. "Yes, exactly like that."
She grins. "If you say so."
"And rooms?" asks Julian, unimpressed with our humor.
"One for each of you, or will you share?"
"One each," we say together.
"I'll check." She gestures to the empty tables, green washrag flopping in her hand. "Have a seat."
Julian leads us to the farthest table in the darkest corner and selects the seat I would have chosen—with his back to the wall and a view of the pub spread out before him.
He's paranoid enough for both of us, so I sit across from him. My only view is his strange new face, oddly smoothed over and softened, almost feminine, but no one would mistake him for a woman.
I don't hide my curious stare. "So what's the trick with your face, Jules?"
He scowls. "It's no mere trick. The spell is complicated. Very few mages have mastered it."
Blah-dee-dee-blah. "You look younger. Girlish. Only your shoulders are weirdly big for that."
"How kind of you to notice and also to point it out. I could change them too." He picks at the cracking varnish on the old, dented table. "Let's talk about something else."
I can't help but find him interesting. Am I annoyed he follows me around like an abandoned duckling?
Yes.
But am I bored?
No.
And he keeps my mind off my sorrows. Questions tumble through my head, each more nosy than the next. Which one would he be likely to answer?
I grin as the perfect question comes to mind. I have a feeling he's got a lot of answers at the ready for this one. "So, erm, how'd you lose your fingers?"
Mischief lights his gaze. "Lost a bet with a dwarf. Thought for sure mine was bigger."
I snort-laugh as our food arrives, along with two mugs of barley wine ale and a hunk of hard bread with a slab of pale yellow butter. Julian's pie is tomato red with a generous helping of greens to make up for the lack of cheese. Mine is burnt orange with a crispy layer of toasted cheesy perfection on top. The smell is divine.
We tuck in, and I'm grateful, not only because the food is even better than I'd remembered but also because it spares us more awkward small talk.
The pub's door creaks behind me. Julian glances over my shoulder and stiffens, his hard gaze caught on whoever just entered. The coin twitches in my pocket.
What in the seven seas?
I shift to get a look for myself, but Julian snaps, "Don't. You'll make it obvious."
Though every bone in my body itches to see who made him flinch, I glower at him instead. "Make what obvious?"
"That I've noticed him. It's no matter," he says as if it, whoever he's seen, absolutely does matter. "A guildsman. He won't recognize me."
"No one would." There's no way I'm not going to look. "I won't be obvious."
"Cricket!" He whisper-barks my name, but I ignore him and rise from my seat, extra casual in fashion, stretching like I've been sitting too long.
I wink.
Julian scowls.
Half-empty mugs in hand, I amble over to the bar, making sure to catch a solid glimpse of The Merry Goblet's newest customer on my way.
He's a fae, if the shimmering silver wings on his back are anything to go by. I don't have to try hard to sneak a peak because we end up side by side at the bar.
"Another drink?" asks the barmaid.
"Two, please." Julian will be irritable when I return. More ale will do nicely to soften the blow.
"And for you?" she asks the fae.
"Ale and directions, if you know them." His voice is tinny, and he's a short fellow—most full fae are petite of stature, so that's unremarkable—with silver hair to match his wings. Fine clothes, rings on each finger, shining jewels in his hair. Julius said a guildsman, but what guild? I thought the guilds were nonsense, the stuff of stories, not real life.
And he doesn't look evil.
Until striking black eyes, as if his irises have been eclipsed entirely by his pupils, land on me with soul-piercing intensity.
I clear my throat. "I know my way around these lands. Where are you headed?"
The barkeep takes this as her cue to fetch the drinks, leaving the fae's attention to rest squarely on me.
This man gives me the creepy-crawlies. The coin agrees. It's unsettled in my pocket, vibrating and cold.
"Willowood. You know it?"
"I do. Name's Cricket." I offer my wrist.
We clasp forearms. "My thanks, Cricket. Which road from here?"
A flicker of annoyance that he didn't share his name passes over me, but I ignore it and give him the directions he seeks. "Staying for the night?"
"Can't. Will be on my way after a drink."
"Safe travels to you."
"And you."
The barkeep returns with all three mugs of ale. I pay for our dinners and drinks, along with the stranger's drink, then head back to Julian.
Surprise, surprise, he's glowering like I ate his last sweet treat. I set down the mugs, and he grabs his and throws half the pint back without pausing for breath, throat undulating with each gulp.
I keep my voice low. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
He licks the foam from his upper lip. "I'm not."
"Is that fae at the bar why you need a disguise?"
"In part."
"You know him?"
"Forice?"
"Is that his name?"
"Yes, and not really."
"You know his name, but you don't really know him?"
I wait for more, but none is forthcoming.
Julian's a riddle tangled in a mystery.
I tell myself not to worry about him. Julian is not for me to solve. He's for me to abandon. Soon. "You are a constant source of irritation."
"You know how to get rid of me." His wide smile flashes white teeth, and he drops his gaze to my chest before connecting with mine.
His eyes, at least, are the same emerald green as before. The baby soft grain of his skin is so at odds with the years of strife lingering in his hard glare. I want his real face back. The lines, the crow's feet, the imperfections of pores and ruddiness.
"You're staring."
"So are you." I wet my mouth and track his gaze as it follows my tongue.
"You're pretty. Foul tempered and disagreeable, but not so terrible to look at. Why shouldn't I stare?"
Warmth stirs between my legs. His words send my thoughts racing. What would Julian be like as a lover? Overly polite and civil? As he is to me now?
Or…does the fire in him burn hot between the sheets? Would he tug my hair? Take what he needs from my body? Slap my?—
"Have I discovered your weakness? Is it flattery? In that case, you should know your ass is like two ripe melons begging to be squeezed. Juicy and plump. How they would shine as oil is massaged between?—"
"Shut up." My cheeks heat. "Someone will hear."
"If that's your only complaint, it's easily resolved." He twirls the three fingers of his right hand, and the air shimmers faintly golden. "No one will hear."
"Wait. Did you magic us a bubble so you could talk dirty to me in public?"
The smile is back, only this time, it appears genuine, and it's on his real face. He raises his shoulders in a barely there shrug. "I've done more for less. Shall I continue?"
I'm too stunned to answer.
"You should have seen yourself earlier, mouth covered in sweet purple plum juice. All I could think was would they leave a purple stain around my cock if you were to kneel for me? I bet they would."
Well, that tells me a bit about how he'd be in bed, doesn't it? "You're just trying to stop me from asking about that fae headed to Willowood."
His seductive smirk sinks like a stone in water, leaving the familiar scowl in its place. "He's going where?"
"You heard me." I cross my arms. "What's it to you?"
His mouth forms a tight line. He wrinkles the bridge of his nose as he takes a breath, and his expression is suddenly neutral.
"If you're trying to hide your reaction, you failed. Just tell me what's going on."
"Give me the coin, and I will."
I'm over the futile back-and-forth. And I'm tired, with very little time to catch a nap before I abandon him here.
"I've paid for supper and the drinks already"—I rise from my chair and push it under the table—"since you provided lunch." My coin satchel is pregnant from my time in Lemossin. Enough to repay a favor. I abhor a debt, any debt, but especially one to slimy sorcerers.
"I thought you were a thief."
"I don't steal from humans or commoners."
"A thief with morals." He arches his brows. "Questionable morals, but morals nonetheless."
"At least I have morals."
"You're implying I don't?"
"Do you?"
A shark smile slashes wide across Julian's face as he sinks back in his seat and opens his palms. "Perhaps one day you'll find out."
We need to be done talking. "I'm not buying your room."
"I have my own money."
Of course he does. The man looks rich as dark chocolate on caramel. He wouldn't know what it's like to go hungry. To watch your family grow sick and die. To finally find a treasure, only for a stranger to demand it be handed over.
Julian gazes past me. The old door hinges creak, and he relaxes. His posture loosens, perhaps experiencing the effects of the ale. Perhaps not. "Is the guildsman gone, then?"
"He is."
"Goody for you." I leave him without a backward glance, more than ready to be alone in a room for a few hours of solace. And hopefully sleep.
The barkeep directs me through a narrow hall and up an even narrower flight of stairs. The walls are so tight I feel too big. Like my shoulders are too wide and my lungs too full for my chest. But as quickly as it started, it's over, and the room she leaves me in isn't nearly so boxed in.
I make use of the chamber pot, wash my face and hands, and call that good enough. The bed awaits. I collapse onto the itchy wool cover without taking off a stitch of clothing or my boots. Being fully dressed will make it easier to leave in a couple of hours.
I definitely do not think of what Julian said to me in our magical silence bubble.
Lying to myself is a habit I ought to break.
But not tonight.