The Wicked Born

Chapter 7

Dacre and Tabitha arrived at the nicer inn in the town just as the sky outside had darkened to an almost obsidian palette without a single star to illuminate the night. Tabitha had Dacre pay for a room with two beds while she stood quietly beside him, not allowing the innkeeper to see the red design that graced the side of her face. It was nothing more than a big bullseye for a reward of Kingly-proportions as far as she was concerned. She didn't feel like having to slaughter her way out of a circle of the King's soldiers tonight. Tabitha had entirely too many other things to worry about during her trip into the city that she'd left so many years before.

Something felt off the moment she'd stepped into the door of the room that they'd be sharing for the night, but she couldn't quite place her finger on it. She scanned her surroundings warily, raking each and every object over with a cautious and keen eye as she turned in a slow circle. Nothing was different from how she remembered it when she was there a few years before. Two beds shoved to opposite ends of the walls, a nightstand between the two, minimal decorations on the walls. Even a quick sniff of her surroundings confirmed that there was nothing out of the usual in their chosen room, but her subconscious continued to scream that there was something off about it. That something was horribly, terribly wrong.

Every predatory instinct in her body was on edge as she took in the entrances and exits of the room, She swiped a quick hand down the length of her body to ensure that her dagger and sword were in their rightful places, hidden under the guise of her clothing. She was dragged out of her thoughts by a loud groan that came from the doorway, snapping her head in the noise's direction as she remembered that she wasn't the only one there.

Dacre quickly crossed the threshold and flung himself face-first onto the nearest bed, not bothering with taking off his soaking cloak or squeaking boots before he contaminated the soft and warm blankets. He said something to Tabitha with his face buried deep inside of the fluff of the pillows, but his low voice was so muffled that even her sensitive hearing was unable to pick up exactly what he was trying to convey.

Tabitha sighed and shrugged off her own soaking-wet cloak, laying it carefully on the dresser between them so as not to crease the material. It was special to her, and she took the utmost care of it. She bent over and unlaced her boots before tossing them off to the side of the room. She quietly crossed the room and plopped down on the other bed, before leaning back against the headboard and closing her eyes to listen to the heartbeat of the man who sat not ten feet away from her. It was slower than normal, as if he was teetering on the brink of sleep but not quite there yet.

She was so distracted with her listening that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps until they were a mere ten feet away from their closed door. Tabitha jumped off the bed, yanking the curved blade of the dagger from its designated pocket on her thigh, and readied herself in a defensive position as the melodiously quiet footsteps neared closer and closer. Dacre still laid face down on the bed next to her, his slowed and rhythmic heartbeat confirming that he was passed out. Tabitha felt all of her predatory instincts kick in, a glaze of red filming her vision as she prepared herself for the fight that was sure to come. She was taken completely off guard as the person stopped outside of their door and, instead of barging in and attempting to kidnap the both of them, knocked quietly and patiently on its wooden surface. The sound was hollow and low, and it seemed to echo throughout her body as she stared dazedly at the closed door for a moment.

Tabitha cast a quick look over at Dacre out of the corner of her eye as he slept on the bed. He shifted quietly, as if trying to get into a better position. She had half of a mind to laugh when she saw that he'd already drooled slightly on the pillow under his head before she remembered that someone was waiting for her behind the door.

She shoved the dagger under the sleeve of her tunic and quickly crossed the room. The metal of the blade was a bone-chilling cold against her forearm, but she ignored it and wrapped her right hand around the doorknob. She yanked it open and was doubly surprised at what stared back at her.