Page 162 of City of Snakes
“I do like you,” he answered. “Which is a lucky thing. Liking your future wife is something to strive for, is it not?”
My cheeks heated. I only hoped the coat of mud would protect me from him noticing. “Enjoying bedding me isnotthe same thing as liking me.”
“That’s an added benefit,” he retorted.
I returned my attention to the narrow road as the men before us started pulling their horses aside toward a stable.
The buildings around us were all three-to-four-story flats, with stucco-rimmed balconies. Clothing hung from lines overhead.
“We’ll drop the horses here. Keep your weapons with you,” he instructed as he dismounted, and I followed. A groom cameto retrieve our mounts, and Krait led me down the brown cobblestone road. A soldier on horseback, accompanied by a few guards on foot, followed with our packs.
The sun was, thankfully, setting, and an orange and red glow illuminated the town. The sunset added vibrance to the otherwise monochromatic surroundings.
Krait stopped at a cart and bought a loaf of bread and a few wax-sealed cheeses. A few yards later, I waited while he stopped at another cart to pick up a bottle of wine.
No one here seemed to treat him any differently than a common patron. Though the intense gaze of some made the hair on my arms stand. I let my mind slip into the cracks of a man’s mind as we passed.
“If our King is here, maybe the rumor is true…Maybe our true Origin has returned...”
My throat constricted. They didn’t just worship Caym here; they truly thought him the better choice to lead them. Krait’s words on our journey rang true. I shivered despite the heat.
We’d been traveling all day, and I was still too hot to feel hungry, but the wine sounded nice. Krait made one last stop for fresh pitted fruit—apples and pears that were bruised but not rotted.
The guards kept their distance, but still flanked us. We dodged carriages through the narrow streets until Krait stopped.
“Here, this is the flat.” He motioned to a building much like all the others—beige stucco, three stories, and flat-roofed.
When we approached the door, Krait asked, “Hold these?”
I smirked and said, “Fine, but you are not getting the wine back.” I took his bounty of cheese, fruit and wine off his hands.
Krait hefted our packs onto his shoulders and thanked the guards who had trailed us. “Stay near,” he told them, and they nodded their agreement.
“I can get mine.” I tried to argue about him carrying my pack.
“You know the way in. Get the door for me.”
Reaching the entry, I whispered, “In the Shadows we trust.” The lock clicked, and the door opened for us.
Krait dropped the heavy bags in the entryway. Before us lay an empty stone-floored hall with little decor outside of a wooden candelabra that hung above with flickering tealight candles.
I ventured beyond the entryway and into a sitting room with two deep leather sofas and a frayed red rug. The walls were all covered in white stucco, and there were brown wooden beams running across the expanse of the ceiling. To the right was a staircase up to the second level. To the left was a small kitchen with a hearth. I placed the food down on a butcher block.
A vase of striking freshly cut larkspur was set on a small kitchen table in the corner, giving the air a clean, subtle scent. It was as though someone had prepared for us to be here.
“I like these,” I noted and trailed my fingers over the delicate blue petals.
Krait kicked off his wet boots and peeled off his still-damp red tunic. I watched with interest.
How could the man be caked in mud and still somehow appeal to me?
He glanced at the flowers. “I had Ryn bring them. I know you like them.”
“SoRynbrought me flowers?”
His expression seemed downright playful when he said, “Atmyrequest.”
Trying to focus on his face without melting into a puddle at his feet, I asked, “Do you visit here frequently?”
