Page 92 of Ignite
The sound of my blood rushing fills my ears, quieting the world around me. I clear my throat and stuff the cloth packet back into my vest. Graylen’s eyes are on me, but I spin to Adrian and say, “Everything’s fine. Let’s go.”
I start toward the inn, trying to ignore that the shard of Nightfall somehow ended up back in my possession. How theone thingDaimon was willing to bargain for made it back to me.
I’m left wondering if this was the shard’s doing…or Daimon’s. And if itwasDaimon’s, then why? What’s his planhere? It’s almost as if he wants me to find Nightfall—and not only that, but to reunite the missing shard with it.
If the warning is true and it’s the only way to stop my magic from being taken…then we have to find it. Fast.
Thirty-Eight
Pietersite
The tavern issmall and dark. My boots catch on the floor, a sticky substance coating every inch. An array of things assaults my senses by the time the door closes behind me—the smell of wheat wafting over from the narrow bar, hearty laughter, the crackling of wood in the fireplace.
Flames gutter, casting shivering shadows on the pocked tabletops scattered across the room, illuminating hands wrapped around mugs of ale and plates filled with grains. Chairs are squeezed side by side around each table, but it still isn’t enough—some patrons lean against the wall or sit in the laps of others.
From the outside, it seemed quiet and empty, a perfect place to lie low for the night.
Graylen stiffens beside me, his eyes drifting through the crammed bar. Over every filled chair, every occupied barstool.
“No one recognizes me,” Adrian whispers absentmindedly. “They look at me as if I’m just another traveler.”
His gaze snaps from person to person, as if looking for someone. But no one spares him a second glance; in fact, everyone carries on without sparingoneglance. A flash of disappointment flares in Adrian’s eyes when he realizes no one looks at him—which is for the best, being this far out from the castle.
I huff at his sagging shoulders and deep frown.
Whywouldthey recognize him? We couldn’t be farther from the castle, and most of these people likely haven’t traveled far from their town. I’ve never heard of Adrian or his father taking tours through the kingdom, let alone venturing away from their precious castle.
They don’t have a reason to think this man is the king, and he can’t seem to understand that this is agoodthing. We don’t need unwanted attention—the more surprised Moros is that we’re here, the better.
“You managed just fine through the market dressed as a beggar not that long ago,” I remind him. “And that was beside the castle.”
“I was wearing a hood,” he mumbles.
My nostrils flare. Even now, he can’t admit it’s because he’d rather stay within the comfort of his precious, comfy castle than be around his people.
Adrian coughs and says, “Maybe it would help if the owners knew I was?—”
“No,” Graylen growls over his shoulder. “We’re supposed to beblending in.”
I push past both of them and squeeze into an open space at the bar, leaning over the sticky wood to wave down the barkeep.
The barkeep gives me a silent nod, pouring a cup of ale as he rattles off his prices.
“Not much room for a drink tonight. Kitchen’s open late, but it’ll cost ya extra. I’ve got one room with four cots in it and?—”
“Two,” I rush out, imagining being stuck in a room with Adrian. I don’t think I would last five minutes before using mymagic to stop his incessant talking. Not to mention, Graylen and I haven’t had time to ourselves since I got him back. I need to talk to him, to feel his warmth beside me. “Two rooms.”
A brush of appreciation sneaks down our connection, and I let it in, opening the bond wider and allowing him in. His pinky finds mine, our fingers winding together for a brief moment.
The barkeep grunts as he slides an ale over the bar to a customer. He immediately begins pouring another. “Twenty silvers then,” he says gruffly. “Two more each if you want supper.”
I turn to Adrian, brows raised as I wait for him to pay. He grinds his teeth together, but fishes the coin out of his vest and slides it over to the barkeep.
“Grab a seat if you can find one and we’ll bring out tonight’s special.”
My stomach twists at the mention of food—not from hunger, but from the uneasy feeling of imagining sitting down to eat anything right now. More than anything, I want to be alone with Graylen. ThoughImight not be hungry, the same can’t be said for my company.
I sneak a glance at Graylen, at his dull skin and hollow eyes. He must feel me watching him, because he looks down at me, a smirk on his face that looks so much like his old self it nearly sends me to my knees. But the old Graylen didn’t sway on his feet from going so long without food; he didn’t have chunks of dirt and blood in his hair.
