Page 111 of Lady Knight and the Thief

Torren leaned forward and grabbed her gently by the chin. “Lass.”

Cypress narrowed her eyes at him, but let him speak.

“You are rich. Probably beyond your wildest dreams. Eobbaara is one of the wealthiest provinces within Faerie. Trust me when I tell you, you haveresources.”

Chin still within his grasp, Cypress licked her lip before she said, “Well, alright then. You could have led with that.”

Torren smiled, and his eyes roamed over her face. Then, quick as an errant breeze, he laid the barest of kisses against her lips. A whisper of contact before he dropped her face, and leaned back in his chair.

“That’s a good Lass.”

Cypress was too stunned to do much else other than blink at him.

“Where do you think your beastie is?” Torren asked just before one of the barmaids arrived with bowls full of mutton stew and tall draughts of wine.

Cypress was almost glad to be out of the Wylds and out of the reaches of Pixie wine. Grethnah no longer felt like home, though.

The ever-changing trees and Faerie rings were calling her name, the syllables echoing on the wind.

Cypress shrugged. “I told Deja we needed to sneak into Grethnah, and that she would be in danger if she were seen. Something tells me that Hounds like her are able to keep themselves hidden with…”

“Perhaps some ability?” Torren offered with a smirk.

“Right. Anyway, I’m sure she’s close, but I don’t know where.”

Torren nodded and tucked into his food. Unfortunately, Cypress had never been a big fan of mutton—or lamb, for that matter. Though it had been a long time since she’d gone without eating, the prospect now seemed almost preferable to eating this stew.

Cypress sighed and took a tentative sip of the broth. It was alright, but not good. Cypress decided she would take a bit of the vegetables and the meat with every bite. Hopefully, the flavors would balance themselves out that way.

She noticed Torren looking at her out of the corner of her eye, but was saved from having to explain as the –only slightly– familiar face of Ellisar waltzed up to their table, and pulled a chair out for himself.

The iridescent wings Cypress remembered were nowhere to be seen, but his blond hair was braided back the same way, and he wore similar clothes to the first time they’d met.

“Ellisar, my friend,” Torren greeted, and raised his glass.

Ellisar bowed his head and returned the greeting. “It has been too long.”

Cypress opened her mouth to ask about the fair folk camp when Torren grabbed her thigh under the table and squeezed. Instead, she merely said, “It’s nice to see you,” through gritted teeth.

Torren waved down one of the barmaids who circled through the room with trays laden with drinks.

When one came to their table, he said, “A drink, please, for my friend.” Then, before she walked away, Torren asked Ellisar, “Have you eaten today, my friend?”

“No, thank you, just the drink, please.”

The barmaid nodded her head and walked away. Cypress didn’t miss the inquisitive look the girl sent the pair of men, and around at their belongings as if she were cataloging information.

Cypress couldn’t help but think back to her early days at the Keep, and how she was often questioned about what she noticed and observed about visiting dignitaries and nobility–the girl likely was doing the very same, just under the name of the inn’s owner.

Cypress stayed silent while Ellisar and Torren chatted about nonsense. The weather, this year’s crop, and the joust thatshehad won. The pair seemingly chatted about everything and nothing all at once while they waited for the barmaid to return with Ellisar’s drink.

Even after the glass was delivered, full to the brim with deep purple wine, the pair still talked about nothing of consequence.

Cypress almost couldn’t stand it anymore. She knew, though, that there was a reason. Torren hadn’t given his name to the barkeep. Their appearances were slightly altered, though not severely. Only just enough to not be a match for the wanted posters Cypress saw on the way in. The way the barkeep and the girls circled the room, Cypress knew that not much could be said within these walls without being overheard in one way or another. Still, she didn’t know why Torren and Ellisar would be sitting in the middle of it all for so long, talking about…nothing.Nothing of consequence, anyway.

Finally, when the lamps had been dimmed and the tables all but cleared, Torren and Ellisar rose from their chairs, Cypress with them.

“We’ll have the carriage ready by morning,” Ellisar said, giving Torren the slightest of nods.