It was a large banquet room, littered with all kinds of people. Tables were filled with men in armor and some in garb like our own. The women were all wearing tattered dresses or worn leathers—much like mine. If they weren’t serving mugs of some dark shaded liquid, they looked like they could kill you with their pinky toe. Whatever their temperament, Alex’s appearance was the one attribute that unified them. They all gawked at him as we passed, and then they whispered and giggled and usually glared at me.
A rustic round iron chandelier of candles floated overhead. It just hovered there, suspended between the ceiling and the heads of the people beneath it. Hanging from the walls were heads of strange creatures mounted to large wooden plaques. One reminded me of a deer, but its prominent fangs, catlike green eyes, and the fact that it was yawning, reminded me that it wasn’t.
Seven varying shaded banners hung by invisible threads from the ceiling. All of them were tattered and old, and across each was stamped a word: Alioth in oranges, Orindor in reds, Campagna in blues, Valdon in greens, Gesh in browns, Arborenne in silvers. The seventh banner hung in a dark corner and was more difficult to distinguish than the rest, being more frayed and soiled. The light flickered, catching the faded golden lettering so that I could just make out one word: Pendel. Sonya was right. The map Alex gave me hadn’t shown all of Gaia. If anything, it’d shown a very small portion of it.
Most of the people sat around laughing, sloshing around the contents of their heavy mugs. Some sat with hands filled with cards, all with strange symbols and drawings on them; a pile of gold coins sat in the middle of their table. Daggers were thrown, oddly shaped dice were rolled, money was traded—and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves with their strong drink and gambles.
Music echoed throughout the hall from a trio of stringed wooden instruments, huddled and player-less in one corner. The strings plucked themselves; bows weaved un-manned, and no one seemed to pay them any attention.
We followed our guide through the throngs of people and tables. A few glanced up with curious eyes. The women were more than curious as they batted their eyes at Alex with hunger in them. He at least pretended not to notice.
My first exposure to the people of this world and they didn’t at all fit the image I’d formed in my mind. In a world of kings and lords, I expected at least some sense of refinery. These men and women were filthy, salted with sweat residue. The faces of the men hadn’t seen a razor in weeks. The armored ones were battered and rusty, the cloaked ones were torn and tattered.
The man motioned for us to sit at a round wooden table, shoved in a dark corner away from the commotion. Alex and Sonya each took my side. Alex kept one hand fisted on the table, but I noticed the other was rigid at his waist.
A lady appeared wearing a low cut dress and looked like she could kill me. In her hands was a tray filled with mugs that she proceeded to pass around the table. As she handed Alex his, she winked and sauntered away. I looked at Alex, wondering how long he’d keep up this act of ignoring overt attention. But when I earned myself a glare from him, I averted my eyes.
The stench wafting from the mug before me was rancid and sour but Alex didn’t hesitate before throwing back a gulp. I gaped at him, horrified, and he knew it. Although he didn’t turn to look at me, I didn’t miss his slight grin.
“Does anyone else know ye left?” The little man grumbled just loud enough for us to hear.
“We told no one—” Cicero scanned the room “—but we think we were being followed through the forest.”
“Well, no tellin’ what crazy folks be wanderin’ ‘round these days,” the man chuckled, and I caught a strong whiff of spirits and rot. Someone needed to tell this Gaian what a toothbrush was.
The lady reappeared, passing around bowls of some putrid smelling soup. This time she offered Alex a generous view as she reached across him to hand me my soup. He, however, still acted like he didn’t notice her and stared up at the ceiling.
Everyone dug in; we were all starved. I pushed the ladle through my bowl of broth. Strange blue tinged spheres floated to the top with long translucent grey-green veined strands of something wrapped around them, and my stomach turned.
“Otis, meet Daria.” Cicero gestured towards me.
The little man called Otis stared at me. “That’s her?” He frowned. “You said she’d be a young woman. How old is she…eleven?”
Alex’s shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh and took a drink.
Well. I sat up a little straighter. “Eighteen.”
A smile of blackened, rotted teeth greeted me. “Course ye are, darlin’.”
“How has business been here?” Sonya nodded towards the room.
Otis looked at Sonya. “Busier. People in the territories aren’t happy. Says King Darius is to be blamed for the droughts and is keepin’ all the goods for ‘imself. So they all come here, and drink down their concerns, bloody barbarians.” He narrowed his eyes at two men that were trying to strangle each other but kept stumbling over their own feet. “Only I’m worried that their concerns aren’t goin’ down like they use to.”
Cicero’s brow furrowed, his fingers rubbed at his chin. “There’s a surprising amount of soldiers here, considering there’s no war.”
Otis leaned forward, over the table. “Rumor is we’re about t’ be.”
“What do you mean?”
A pitcher of that foul liquid floated through the air towards our table. It tilted itself over each cup, a stream of its contents falling with precision into a mug below, refilling it, then moving to the next. Everyone acted like a floating pitcher full of liquid was a common thing. I held my hand over my untouched mug, and it passed.
The woman must have given up then.
“Some o’ the men are talkin’. Says there’s someone mighty powerful—someone that sold ‘is soul to,” his voice dropped lower, “Mortis ‘imself. Rumor is those that ‘ave joined burned a strange mark on their necks. I’ve never seen it meself. Not sure that I want to either. They’re s’ppose to ‘ave been given some dark powers.” Otis forced so much of his breath to a whisper that I feared my nose might be stained with the scent of rot and ale forever. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than we think.”
“Any idea who this man is?” Sonya asked.
Otis shook his head. “No, but he be recruitin’ some o’ the men with his ‘elpers. It’s an easy feat when the people are so unhappy. I ‘ear the plan is to overthrow the king. Says the Regius dynasty well needs to come to an end.”
“That’s ludicrous,” Cicero said. “If it weren’t for King Darius and his armies, this world would be flooded with creatures of shadow.”
“I’m not so sure anymore,” Otis said, staring off into the room.
“You aren’t suggesting he’s failing?” Cicero’s reprimand was immediate.
“Now, I’m not speakin’ no treason.” Otis wiped his forehead. “I see a lot of people from all over. And some of the outlying villagers—they’ve got some stories that’ll make yer toes curl. Of evils returning.” Otis leaned forward. “Gargons even.”
Alex went still beside me.
“Impossible,” Cicero hissed.
Otis held up a fat, square hand. “Whatever it is, the things they speak of ‘er gruesome things. I don’t much like it when they give me th’ details.”
“Have they informed the king?” Cicero asked.
“They says they sent word, but can’t get through. King’s too busy. Probably planning his banquets, they says.”
Cicero and Sonya exchanged a glance.
“Do you think this person—if they exist—is the same that sent Pykans after her?” Cicero nodded to me.
“Makes sense.” Otis took a swig of the foul liquid. “Can’t think o’ too many others that would have the nerve to go after that one.” Otis glanced at me.
I was about to ask Otis what he meant by that when the chatter in the room abruptly died. Even the instruments stopped playing.
Three men wearing full armor stood in
the hall. Their silver was dented and tarnished, their chain mail kinked and dirtied, like they’d just escaped from years of imprisonment. They scanned the room as they took seats at the bar, faces dark and brooding.
The room began to return to its normal volume, but the music didn’t resume. I felt a wave of anxiety from the Del Contes, who were silently eyeing the newest guests.
Beads of sweat were forming on Otis’ forehead, his black eyes shiny. “Time to show you to your rooms, I think.”
The Del Contes stood from their seats. Alex grabbed my forearm, pulling me from mine. His grip was delicate, but I knew it would be difficult to break free even if I tried. We all followed Otis along the outskirts of the room while keeping our heads low.
But my eyes kept returning to those men. Something about them was wrong. Felt wrong. There was a blackness in them—an evil presence I could feel. One of them turned his head just enough, the hair falling away from the back of his neck, and the edge of a black symbol became visible. I strained to see the rest, but it was hidden beneath greasy black hair. The man beside him turned around and locked eyes with me.
A deadly chill passed over me.
“You there!”
I froze. The room went silent at the sound of such vehemence and hatred.
The man jumped from his stool, making his way towards us. Alex yanked me behind him; Cicero and Sonya staggered beside us, hands at their waists.
The man halted, a terrible grin across his face. His eyes were cold and hard, like looking into onyx.
The room waited and watched.
“You aren’t from around here, are you?”
“We’re just passing…” Cicero began.
“Not you,” the man hissed. No one missed the flicker of candlelight accompanying his anger. “I was talking to the…young lady.” He tilted his head, his dark eyes trying to see me behind Alex.
“Come, now,” Otis grumbled. “I don’t need no problems ‘ere.”
The man stared only at me and my eyes could not leave his face. That malignant, hostile face.
Alex pulled me closer behind him.
The man’s grin widened, his companions having joined him. “Well, well, well,” he laughed. “It seems I have competition. I’m not sure it’s considered fair to duel with a noble, considering they train you boys in the art of handling women’s undergarments rather than swordsmanship.”
Light chuckles erupted about the room. Alex’s blood ran hot, heating my own body.
“Where are you from, young lady?” The man continued, dark, hostile eyes burning through me. “There is a uniqueness about you I’ve not seen since—”
“Leave,” Alex growled in a voice that frightened me. A sharp scrape sounded in the air as he drew his sword half from its sheath.
The man’s eyes widened in recognition. “Alexander Del Conte.”
Air whispered through the mouths of many people in the room as I glanced up at Alex.
“You’ve no business here,” Alex said.
“I’m curious,” the man continued, now glancing between Cicero and Sonya in realization. “What business could bring the entire Del Conte family to these parts. Aren’t you supposed to be comfortable…on the other side?”
Cicero drew his weapon, the eyes of the onlookers wide in expectation. “Our business is none of yours,” Cicero spat. “Remember who you serve, soldier.”
Pure hatred flashed in those black eyes and he spoke in a voice that threatened to wither all life. “I do not serve your king.”
Cicero’s eyes narrowed. “Who do you serve, traitor?”
“Someone who will be very interested in knowing you are here.” The man’s eyes darted to me.
One of the men in the rear of their group—the man whose neck bore the marking—was drawing something from behind his back. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I could feel his violence directed towards Alex, to get to me.
And it didn’t seem like any of the Del Contes noticed.
I had to do something.
A half-empty glass mug sat on the table next to me. In one swift movement I snatched the mug and chucked it between the two in front, right at the third man’s face. A dagger fell from his hands and clattered on the ground as he hurried to catch the glass hurtling straight for his forehead.
Cicero and Alex had their swords at the throats of the leader’s companions, Sonya holding a dagger high, prepared to throw at the instigator.
The leader stared hard at me. “Sharp senses for an outsider.”
The room was so quiet all I could hear was my own racing heart.
The man raised his hands, nodding towards his companions with a wicked grin. All at once they left through the door, the hinges creaking after them.
Everyone ogled the four of us, their curiosity overwhelming.
“Git back to yer business, ye bloody barbarians!” Otis yelled.
The room filled with movement, the instruments took up their plucking, and the people conveniently forgot what had just transpired.
And I was yanked after Alex.
When the door to the room closed behind us, Alex spun me around, a fire in his eyes.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
I was taken aback. “No.”
“You’re already being hunted—there’s no need to draw more attention to yourself.”
His harsh tone angered me. “That man was about to kill you!”
“I knew what he was doing.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“That’s the point, Daria. They aren’t supposed to know what I’m thinking.”
“What are you, a professional liar?”
“What’s going on?” Cicero looked between us.
Alex’s eyes narrowed as he lowered his accusative finger from my face. “We never should’ve come here. It’s not in her nature to follow directions.”
Had Alex and I been on good terms, I might not have been hurt by his tone. But it cut deep. He’d acted like I was a complete idiot, and was responsible for putting us all in danger. Even if it was true, he didn’t need to be so berating.
I glared at him. “It’s not my fault.”
His eyes turned to fine slits, his face inches from mine. “If you would’ve done as you were told and kept your eyes in front of you, that wouldn’t have happened.”
Well, that explained it. He had caught me staring. “If you wouldn’t have overreacted, they wouldn’t have been suspicious.”
“They were already suspicious—”
“Alexander,” Sonya interrupted. “That’s enough.”
Alex stepped away from me, but his irritation spilled freely over me.
Otis, who had been quiet during this little conversational aside, was staring at me with a smirk on his face. “Quite the popular one, aren’t ye?”
I scowled, trying to calm my rage.
Otis continued walking down the corridor and turned up a narrow flight of stairs. We all followed; Cicero and Alex lingered behind speaking in whispers. It was obvious they were bothered by what happened. And what had happened? How was it those men knew anything about me?
We continued down a long, narrow hallway, passing door after door. People lingered about as candles in sconces sent shadows dancing across the walls. Even here the women made eyes at Alex, and then looked me up and down with disdain.
Otis stopped before a pair of doors that were a few feet apart. He pulled out a large, rusted key ring, jingled one of the large keys into each door, and then faced us.
He lowered his head and spoke so that only we could hear. “I got two rooms set up for ye. In order to keep this one ‘ere—” He nodded towards me “—safe, best have her stay with the young master.”
Cicero’s expression was solemn when he nodded, and Alex went still as a corpse beside me.
“Master Durus will be ‘ere right before sunrise, out back by the stables.”
Cicero sighed. “Thank you again, Otis.”
“Bah,” Otis grumbled wit
h a wave of his hand. He glanced at me as he tottered by, leaving us standing in the hallway full of doors and a few onlookers.
Cicero flashed a stern look at his son before turning a soft gaze to me. “You’ll need to stay with Alex tonight. It will be more difficult for people to recognize your importance this way and we don’t want any questions. Not after what happened below.”
My eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment I stopped breathing. I couldn’t stay in a room alone with Alex—not all night. I glanced at Sonya in desperation.
“Don’t worry. If you’re safe with anyone, it’s Alexander.” Her eyes drifted to her son, her expression tight. Placing her hand on Alex’s arm, she leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. “Good night, dear. We’ll wake you early in the morning.”
Cicero exchanged a knowing glance with his son, and then he and his wife vanished into their room.
I wasn’t sure what was worse: standing out here in this dark and shadowed hallway with strangers, or spending a night with Alex. On second thought, I did know which was worse. The latter.
Chapter 11
An Uncomfortable Night
Alex held our bedroom door open, his expression hard. “After you, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He raised a brow, but didn’t respond.
This was a fabulous way to start the evening. Delaying the inevitable wouldn’t make the morning come any faster. So, setting my jaw with determination, I strode past him into our room. He followed after me, closing and bolting the door behind us.
It was just as I feared. One queen-sized bed.
Other than that, the room looked comfortable enough. There was a fire blazing in a stone hearth, and a large colorful woven rug hid the rotten floorboards. A few lanterns hung along the walls, lighting the corners. An antique wooden armoire stood off to one side and a square table sat in the middle of the room. On the table was a pitcher of clear liquid with a few empty glasses. I hoped it was water. After inhaling all the smoke below, I was dying for something to drink.
A loud thud sounded. Alex had dropped his pack and sword at the foot of the bed and was winding out of his cloak. He hung it on a small hook besides the door, and walked to the table, pouring himself a glass of the mystery liquid. But instead of taking a drink, he looked up at me.
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