“Wait for the guards to show up?”
“I know, I don’t like it either, but we’re both exhausted, and nowhere near the border to Yiren. There’s no way we can afford another horse. Maybe after a few days' rest, we can find someone travelling up north, preferably with a wagon.”
“Okay, but any sign of guards or trouble and we’re gone.”
I nod in agreement, images flooding my mind of guards terrorising the folk of Vendyl, my family. Guilt flushes over me for leaving them to the mercy of the guards. I rest my head in my hands from exhaustion, but mostly out of shame.
“There was a job board outside the inn, maybe… if we’re staying a few days, we could earn some more coins. We’ll never get enough to pay for a new horse but maybe to have a few more warm nights.”
Lifting my head, my eyebrows raise, it’s a good idea, actually.He can blacksmith, but what can I do? Other thansewing and reading, what skills do I have? I was never very good at helping folk like Mum was; I never remembered the herbs or plants for their medicinal purposes. My skills go as far as wrapping a leg, but assisting with childbirth? I’d be more of a nuisance than help.
The Elven barmaid brings our ale and hot pies. I smile at her in thanks, struggling to maintain eye contact with her as her golden honey eyes burrow deep into my soul, rifling through all my secrets. Every move she makes is graceful, and she nods in acknowledgment before floating away.
I should know better, I always hated it when folk would stare at me as I passed by; knowing me for as long as they had, they never got used to my one red eye. It’s rude to stare, no matter the reason, but the elven folk have a beauty about them that makes you falter.
Myles and I don’t talk during our meal, both ravenous, we devour our plates in minutes. Having barely eaten anything for days after losing a lot of food in Misty’s saddlebags.
If I could have, I would have licked the plate clean.
Draining the last few drops of ale, I slouch back on the bench, nursing my swollen stomach, fatigue taking over. Myles rests his head on his hand, while his eyes blink closed. I pull him up by the arm and drag him upstairs. Immediately, he falls onto the bed, his bag dropping at his feet, and snoring as soon as his head hits the pillow.
In desperate need of a bath, sleep for me will have to wait.
At the far end of the washroom is a large ceramic tub, already filled with boiling hot water. A maid must have guessed my wishes. Pouring in some liquid soap from the cupboard, the room fills with the sweet scent of jasmine. Carefully, I dip one foot in before being unable to wait any longer, I submerge myself in the water hot enough to scald my skin.
I lay soaking for a moment, letting the water heat my frozen bones, then scrub my hair and body raw, letting the water drain away the remnants of the past few weeks. The calming jasmine and hot water soothe my body, but my eyes twitch as I struggle to stay awake. Forcing myself to leave the comfort of the tub, I grab a towel, wrapping it around myself while I hunt for fresh clothes.
Atop the bed, Myles is fast asleep, the blanket locked under his rigid body. I tiptoe over to him, tugging off his boots and edging the blanket from underneath him, draping it on top. Leaning in to kiss his head, his body flinches as droplets of cold-water drip on him from my wet hair. My eyes droop as I climb into bed, falling into a deep slumber.
The aromatic smell of coffee drags me from my peaceful sleep. The sun burns my eyes, it’s so bright, the entire room is lit with a warm yellow glow. How long have I slept?
“It’s midday,” Myles answers as if hearing my thoughts. My body creaks and groans as I sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for the mug of coffee.
“You were up early?” Taking in his clothes and boots already on, the smell of fresh air hangs from him.
“I was checking out the job board. There are a few things on there we could both do while we recuperate. I’m heading to the blacksmiths this afternoon.” He takes a few pieces of paper from his pocket, leaning back on his elbows. “For you, there’s: a model for a local painter, dairy maid, wet nurse, forager, or tutor?” He looks at me optimistically.
“I’m sorry…” I say, trying to hold in my laugh. “Did you say wet nurse? Do you even know what that is?” I stifle a laugh. “I don’t think I’m able to do that. Since I have no breast milk.”
Myles gazes at me, eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. “Oh, I thought it was another kind of nurse.” Crumpling the piece ofpaper, he tosses it over his shoulder. “Moving on. Can’t go wrong with tutoring.”
“I’m guessing you have never tried to teach an unwilling child.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “Let’s hope they’re better than Elana was.”
Pinching the piece of paper out of his hands, I read: ‘Governor Thran requests a tutor in assisting his young daughters with their education.’
Young daughters, it can’t be that bad.
After finishing my coffee and tidying up my clothes for a more presentable front, I head out to the governor’s house.
“Largest buildin’ in t’town. Hard t’miss,” the friendly innkeeper told me before I left.
The most destitute building by far in this endearing town.
Not to say that many of the buildings could do with some restoration, with their slightly peeling paint, cracked wood panels, and worn holes in the road, but as far as towns go, it’s not too shabby.
The governor’s manor, however, resembles the very meaning of deprivation.
Watching my step, I walk up to a giant gated wall, overgrown with ivy and rust, surrounding the governor’s house. Through the bars, the dense garden is overrun with wild bushes and flowers about a foot tall. I fiddle with the gate, trying to open it, when a man walks up to me with long auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and glasses sitting sloppily on his nose.