Soul of the Crow: An Epic Dark Fantasy (Reapers of Veltuur Book 1), стр. 36

“Not at all,” I say, swatting at the air by my ear, in front of my face, and eventually deciding just to flail around my entire body.

But before Sinisa can make fun of me or say anything else, I turn, practically running to the inn. Where there’s one stigree, there’s a dozen, and I have no interest in becoming the next piece of flesh that they decide to burrow into to lay their eggs.

The thought alone makes me shiver, despite walking through the door into the firelit parlor.

As I walk across the room, I draw the attention of most of the patrons socializing inside, and I can’t help but wonder if the disguise I chose earlier is woefully terrible, or if they’re staring for some other reason.

“Excuse me,” I say when I find the innkeeper sitting among some of the patrons. “I-I’d like to rent a room, please?”

The woman flips her hair over her shoulder, using the motion to swing her hand onto her hip. She examines me exactly like my father does, making sure to showcase her lack of approval vividly in her expression. “We’re full, kid. Get lost.”

“Oh,” I stutter, shrinking back and feeling just as childlike as I sound.

I turn around to leave, prepared to deliver the bad news to Sinisa, when I see the rows of key rings on the back wall behind the counter. Most are empty, sure, but there’s at least a half dozen just waiting for a guest.

It doesn’t make sense to me why she would turn away a paying customer, why she would rather lose money than serve me. But then I catch sight of the dirt creased in my hands, the scuffs on my trousers, and when I reach up to check my hair, I find a twig ensnared in it. When Gem and I selected our new outfits, I made sure we looked like respectable commoners. But now, I likely look no more affluent than a beggar.

On any other day, I might’ve continued walking out the door, too embarrassed or nervous to ask again, but I guess after defying my father, outrunning—at least, temporarily—a Reaper, and facing off with bandits, standing up to this burly woman doesn’t seem so scary.

“Aren’t those keys for guests?” I ask, pointing at the wall before readdressing her.

She readjusts herself, shifting in her chair like all I’ve managed to do is irritate her more. It’s enough to make me lose some of my gusto.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t throw me out. I have rupees; I can pay.” I grab the pouch from my waist. Although the sound is muted by the parchment and memory leaves, the distinct sound of silver tapping together chimes from my wears.

She eyes me warily a moment longer, but then abruptly stands, nearly knocking the table and a few glasses of drinks over. “All right, we’ll see what we can do. What do you need?”

“Well,” I say, lowering my voice when we reach the counter. “I have a friend waiting outside, and we kind of need to be discreet.”

The woman’s eyes light up before she winks at me. “Don’t worry, kid. We know how to be discreet.”

“Wait, no—I didn’t mean like that. We’re not—”

She winks again, the grin creeping up one side of her face, feline. “It’s all right. No one will say a thing. Honest to the Divine Quetzi herself.” She reaches back, grabbing one of the iron keys in hand. It’s heavy when she smacks it into my palm. “Here, I’ll give you a room just down that hallway. It’s the only one on that side of the building, and the two of you should be able to sneak inside without anyone seeing you.”

Instead of defending my honor, I tuck the key into my pocket and turn from the innkeeper, just in time to watch two of my father’s royal guards enter the main entrance of the inn.

Completely and utterly the opposite of inconspicuous, I shuffle backward, slamming into the counter. The commotion draws the guards’ attention, though since there was only four people in this room before they walked in, I’m pretty sure they would’ve spotted me regardless.

The first guard taps the base of his spear into the floor. “Acari Halaud, by order of the king, you are to return to the palace.”

“My prince,” the innkeeper gasps behind me.

I hear her drop to her knees in a deep bow, but I don’t dare take my gaze off the guards. I guess this means my father isn’t done with me. He must’ve sent his guards after me when I fled with Gem. Although I am a disgrace, I’m his disgrace, his only heir.

I can’t let them take me back there. Not until I save Gem, and maybe not ever. But my back is quite literally up against a wall here, with no chance at escape. Unless Sinisa saw them enter. Maybe she’s hatching some elaborate scheme to come rescue me.

The second I have the thought, I realize how ridiculous I sound. If anything, she likely abandoned me the second she spotted them. Sure, working together makes sense when two people share a common goal, but only if one of them isn’t also being tailed and captured by royal guards. She doesn’t need me. It’s not like I know where I’m going anyway; she could easily find the Guardians without me.

At least my father didn’t send Borgravid. Being arrested in front of him—by him—would be a lot more humiliating than by some random guards that I don’t even recognize.

“Will you go willingly?” the second guard asks.

Seeing no other option, I hold my arms out. They each grab one, yanking me back out of the inn and into the night.

I tell myself not to look at the alley where I left her. I tell myself I already know the answer that will be waiting there: she’s gone. She had no reason to stay. But I’ve always been a glutton for punishment, and so