Six of Ruin (Heirs of Irenwell #1) ✔

Chapter 25: Thieves and Liars

The sound of flutes and drums and fiddles reverberated through my skull. Not uncomfortably, but definitely overwhelmingly. The tavern was full; people danced in the middle of the wooden room, their feet like anther instrument in the already stocked orchestra. Smoked filled the entire space, blurring my vision and dizzying my mind.

The celebration was held in our honour, which meant numerous types of drinks lined up on the oak table in front of us. People thanked us for our service, for everything we were doing. Little did they know that our service currently consisted of getting blackout drunk.

Ace was in the middle of the tavern, absolutely dominating the dancefloor. He shook his grey head from side to side, his bare feet somehow managing to miss all the broken pieces of glass on the floor.

Nickeltinker sat on the opposite side of me, he leaned over the table, "I'm pretty sure he's drunk again."

"Again?" I laughed. "I thought he's been drunk since noon."

"He sobered up around dinner." Nick grinned.

Danilo and Torvald weren't here, which slightly saddened me. Nick said Danilo would live, but I still felt guilty for having fun.

On the other hand, I needed fun. I needed carefreeness.

Rixen slid on the bench next to me, "This is insane. I've shook more hands tonight than in the entirety of my life."

My heart thudded in my throat and I washed it down with some ale, "I could get used to this."

"You mean, there aren't feasts like this in Irenwell?" Rixen asked, coming even closer to me. The side of his body bumped into mine.

My senses exploded. Quickly, I drank more ale, trying to shush my excitement. I had no idea what came over me. It felt like the drinks washed down all the restraint I usually possessed.

"People in Irenwell care more about how they look than how they feel." I answered, finding it hard to roll the words off my tongue.

"Good thing you care more about how you feel." Rixen said.

Our eyes locked briefly. I had no idea how to interpret his remark. Was it a compliment, an insult? Or was it something else entirely?

I looked at Nickeltinker, deciding to push the conversation in the different direction "Where's the werewolf?"

Rixen chuckled humourlessly, "Do you even know his name?"

"His name is Daniel." I shot him a mean look. "So, where is he?"

Nick shrugged, "He went to get his pack, they won't be continuing the journey with us."

"What?" I tried so damn hard to add some disappointment to my words, but I ended up sounding flustered. "That's too bad."

"We'll definitely miss him." Rixen mumbled.

His leg bumped into mine. A bolt of energy spread through our skin. Goddess, should I do it? My inhibitions were down and I didn't trust my judgement anymore.

I was too excited. The possibility of sleeping with someone has never made me feel so... unhinged. It was always calculated, thought through. This was not a part of my plan.

Sleeping with the Bastard of Bastia came with consequences that were too great to handle. But his leg felt so good on mine. And the thought of his body on mine made me feel undone.

A young woman approached our table and interrupted my dilemma. She was flustered and beautiful. Her read hair fell carelessly over her shoulders.

She giggled and bowed, "Hello, my name is Brusilda. Thank you for your service."