Page 19 of Lady Knight and the Thief

Two new glasses were placed before Torren and Cypress, a deep purple liquid sloshing around the rim. Torren nodded his thanks to the server without breaking his gaze from the mismatched one of his companion.

“You are good, Lass, but not that good,” Torren said rather than admitting the truth.

Cypress had played the part of startled, afraid fawn– just like so many of the Ladies he’d beenprivilegedto meet in his life. She had fooled himandbeaten him in a fair fight to boot.

Cypress lifted her cup, and in the one act alone, it was like she transformed. Her movements were somehow daintier, her eyes rounded, mouth poised, and chin raised elegantly. Cypress held her wine up with the slightest grasp around the glass, her pinky and forefinger raised in a refined arc.

She took the smallest drink, demurely blotted her lips with a napkin, then sliced a tiny bite off the roast and chewed thoroughly,silently. Torren was transfixed, staring blatantly at the side of Cypress’s face.

“What is it, Milord?” She asked, her voice softened into something like a child’s tone, innocent and fragile.

Torrenhated it.

“Nowthatis bloody spooky,” he said, trying to control the burning in his veins.

Cypress laughed, and immediately,shewas back.

“How long did it take ye to learn that?” Torren asked. Then he sliced another chunk of his roast and washed it down with a sip of Brandlewine.

“It’s easy, if you know how to watch people.”

Torren grunted.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Cypress, no doubt, was memorizing exits and floor plans, tracking faces through the crowd. Torren, on the other hand, was doing the same, but he was looking for his people. Ellisar would have returned to camp by now, but Torren would not have been surprised to find someone else waiting for him here.

However, there wasn’t a familiar face amongst the guests at the inn. He supposed it was just as well. Traveling would be quicker without another to slow them down.

Torren was on edge, despite his relaxed pose in the chair, the carefree smiles he sent toward the brunette barmaid. Far too many men in this establishment were looking at Cypress like they had something to prove. Like she was their next meal.

Sighing, Torren ate the last of his roast, washing it down with the dregs of the Brandlewine, and signaled for another. Cypress raised her brow, draining hers as well.

“Another?” He asked, looking the Lass up and down.

“Is that a problem?” She retorted, placing her chin in her palm, gazing straight through him.

“Depends on whether you’ll need help getting into bed?” Torren asked, leaning toward her.

“Does that line ever work for you?”

Torren scoffed. “What line?”

Cypress smiled, cheeks raising. “No, thief, you will not need tohelpme into bed.”

“Are you sure you can handle a sword like that in your condition?” He asked, looking down her body toward her belt, and the sword sheathed there.

Cypress smirked, leaning toward him a fraction more. “If you don’t think I can hold my drink,Thief,you are mistaken.” And there was that spine of steel again, the minute shift in stance that made the hair on Torren’s arm rise.

He relented, leaning back in his chair with his hands raised between them in acquiescence as another pair of glasses filled with Brandlewine appeared on the table before them.

“The brunette likes you,” Cypress commented, tracking the barmaid’s movements through the inn.

Torren chuckled. “All brunettes like me,” he said, and threw an arm across her shoulders, watching the faces of some of the men in the room. The ones who’d paid a bit too much attention to the drink in Cypress’s cups.

Regrettably, Torren would not be meeting with the barmaid tonight.

Cypress looked at his arm with one baleful eye, and an elegantly arched eyebrow raised. “What are you doing?”

“Are we not friends?” Torren asked, giving her his widest smile.