She brushed aside the awkwardness she’d felt the moment before, concentrating on finding the garments that would serve her best. There was little to choose from in the color she needed, but a pair of dark pants, two tunics, and an embroidered jacket would give her the material she needed to craft her ruse. When Cass paid, he gave Miri a glance that said they needed to get back to the inn.
The sun was falling low on the horizon, casting the market in a rosy glow. The scent of dinner and mead mixed with the less pleasant aroma of so many bodies and streets damp from weeks of rain, and they wove swiftly through the crowd to find their escape. Miri held tight to her satchel, glancing behind them for would-be thieves, and ran straight into Cass. She stumbled, pressing a hand to his back as she caught herself.
He stared onward, his face pale. Miri followed his gaze.
In the distance, among a milling crowd, stood a tall figure in a plain black cloak. It was a moment before Miri realized where she recognized the face from. She’d only seen it for a moment, in the heat of an attack by the kingsman, with sorcerers near and the forest closer still. Terric.
No wonder Cass looked like he had seen a ghost. But Terric was not dead. Cass turned his gaze away from his brother-in-arms.
“Go to him,” Miri said. “I can fend for myself.”
“No.” Cass shook his head once and grabbed Miri by the elbow. “Not here.” He rushed her again, and she meant to protest, but Cass shot her a warning glance. His voice was low. “If he needs to get me a message, he will.”
The message, Miri thought, was clear. Terric was alive. Cass was not alone. Miri’s fool decision had not cost another man his life.
Chapter 15
Miri and Cass returned to the small inn just as dusk settled on the streets of Kirkwall. They were greeted by the innkeepers, a middle-aged couple with dark curls and bright-green eyes. The man picked up the last remaining evidence of a card game while his wife spread a cloth over the table. “In the spare of time, you are,” she said. “Dinner is coming out, and all guests must be at the table or doomed to go without.”
Miri bit her words back while Cass inclined his head politely. “How fortunate,” he said. “What can we do to help you?”
The woman hissed at him and waved a hand, ordering both him and Miri to sit and be served. Another two men, young traders, by the looks of them, and a second couple who had been playing cards were ordered to sit as well. Miri settled onto the bench across from the other travelers, and Cass slid his sword and her satchel under the bench beneath them before he took a seat beside her.
“Ah, look at you,” the woman across from Miri said. She had long dark hair tied up in braids and long dark fingers that gestured toward the band on Miri’s hand. “Newly wed and on the trail together.” She gazed longingly at the burly man beside her. “Remember those days, my love?”
The man snorted and took a chug of what was likely not his first mug of ale. “Remember them? Lass, I’m still living them.”
She chuckled and gave a swift elbow to his arm, with a bit more force than pure affection would call for, Miri thought. The woman’s sharp gaze cut to Cass. “And what of you, young man? Still in the flush of newfound love?”
Cass stared back at her for a moment, his lapse only broken by the innkeeper’s wife slipping a mug of cider in front of him.
“Leave the man be, Ginger.”
Cass seemed to ease a bit, his chest falling as he reached for the mug, but the woman added, “Clearly, he is. Can’t take his eyes off her long enough to even take in a drink.”
Laughter erupted around the table. Cass good-naturedly raised his glass to the crowd as Miri was served her own mug of cider. The innkeepers brought out large platters of vegetables, a meat pie, and salted herring covered in a suspiciously colored brown sauce. Miri exchanged a glance with Cass, which only incited the teasing to start again.
She pressed her eyes closed for a moment then took a sip of her cider. It had a bite to it but was not unpleasant, and Miri let the warmth fill her chest and settle in her bones. Terric was alive. She’d found clothes that would work well enough. The second king would soon be dead, and another piece of the kingdom would be returned to its place on the map of the realm. And they could leave that cursed inn.
The innkeeper and his wife settled at the table beside Cass, and the eight of them began the evening meal. It was loud and close but, like the bite of the cider, not altogether unpleasant after weeks in the woods and the rain. She and Cass had settled into quiet routines on the trail and grown used to each other’s moods and manners, and it had helped fill the void that leaving her second home with Nan and Thom had carved in her heart. Thom had trusted Cass and chosen him above the others to send at Miri’s side.
As the chatter and meal carried on, Miri fell into a comfortable silence, letting the sounds fade to the background of her thoughts. She’d gone over her plans countless times, and memories of her past held nothing but heartache, so she let her mind wander over the past few weeks and let herself linger on the markets and forests and all that she had seen since she’d left Smithsport and her strange captivity. As a child, she’d seen too much, then she’d been trapped in the house and barns at Thom and Nan’s and unable to live at all. It was so peculiar to be free of both situations yet free of nothing at all.
Miri realized quite suddenly that her hand had slipped into Cass’s beneath the table. She glanced at him, intensely aware of the contact despite that he’d done the same a dozen times in the market. But that had been to drag her along behind him and keep her safely near. What Miri had done, as unintentional as it was, had been a gesture of comfort, a familiarity she should not be sharing with anyone, let alone her mother’s guard—particularly not her mother’s guard. Cass didn’t look at her, only sat as if listening to the others. His grip was soft within hers. His other hand rested on the mug of cider, which he’d barely touched, the same as his meal.
Gods, he had thought Terric, his brother-in-arms and one of few remaining queensguard, was dead. Miri should have pulled her hand away that very instant, but she couldn’t seem to make herself.
“Send him to the seven hells, I say. Kingdom’s never been worse off. All he does is sit there in his castle, rubbing oils over his pasty skin while his own people starve.”
Miri’s attention snapped to the bull-necked man across the table at his mention of the king.
The woman beside him gave him a sharp pinch. “Enough with your fool mouth, Hugh. Talk of treason will make you no friends.”
“Aye. And what’ll they do? Pike my head at the gate?”
The woman narrowed her gaze on him. “That’s exactly what they’ll do, and you know it. Kingsmen were out just today, fishing the markets for the same sort of talk. They’d love nothin’ more than to make an example out of the likes of you.”
He looked at her, expression crestfallen. “What d’you mean, ‘the likes of me’?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, a pike won’t bother you with fear, but a simple word’ll send you running.” She shook her head, gaze landing on Miri. “I’ll tell you what, girl. No matter how big they come, they’re all just little boys.”