The innkeeper hands me the keys, and I slip them into my pocket. I turn away before he can speak again and stalk towards the table. Briar sits sandwiched between Willem and Aiden, looking uncomfortable. Her pack in her lap, she sits stiffly, shoulders and back too straight. I throw myself into the chair opposite her and sling my leg over my knee. "You have to relax, Briar," I chide. "Or they'll be suspicious."
“How many rooms did you get?” Aiden asks as one of the barmaids appears beside the table, ale in hand.
"Three," I say, gruffly.
Willem’s eyes trail over the barmaid’s breasts as she bends. I don’t bother chastising him. Most of the men in the inn will be ogling her tonight, if one of us didn’t, it would be conspicuous. Willem knows this and flashes the girl an animalistic grin. She holds her tray close to her chest, balking, before hurrying away.
“You’re frightening them off,” Aiden complains, taking a swig of his ale.
“That’s the point,” Willem sneers.
I watch over my goblet as Briar lifts her drink and takes a delicate sniff. She wrinkles her nose. “Ever had ale before?” I ask.
“No, but my father drank it. This doesn’t seem quite the same,” Briar says hesitantly.
“That’s because it’s not. This is piss compared to proper ale,” Aiden says, chuckling.
Briar's eyes widen at his language, and I bite back a laugh. "Relax, Briar. You're not a princess here," I say as I take a long draught.
“I’m trying,” she whispers. She looks up as our food arrives. “You said three rooms?”
I wait as the barmaid places our steaming bowls of meat and potatoes in front of us. The table is quiet, and I listen to Briar's heart beating fast. Through the soul bond, I can feel her skin flushing with heat. She's nervous but excited. I close the bond before I get dragged in too deep. "Don't worry," I say as the barmaid finally leaves. "You'll have your own room."
“I see,” Briar says as she inspects her dinner. She picks up the vicious steak knife beside her plate and prods the meat with it.
Willem curls his lip at a mortal man nearby as he slips his hand up the barmaid’s skirt. “I still don’t understand why you don’t simply kill all the mortals and be done with it,” he mutters. “Hateful creatures.”
I follow his gaze to the barmaid. She wrenches away from the man and busies herself at the bar for a moment. “You know it doesn’t work like that, Willem.”
“You could do that?” Briar asks, her voice trembling. “Kill millions of people?”
My heart sinks a little at the disappointment I can see in her grey eyes. “I could. But I won’t.”
“Why not?” She presses.
“It would disrupt the balance of the world, overrun the Underworld. Logistically, it simply wouldn’t work,” I sigh.
“Logistically,” she says flatly.
I push my ale between my palms, back and forth on the table. “And I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Silence hangs heavy between us. Briar is watching me, and I know if I opened the soulbond now, I would hear her questioning me. But she should question me. She shouldn't trust anyone – least of all me. I know this. And yet I can't stop myself from the disappointment burrowing deeper into my chest.
“So, tell me about this Nephilim,” Aiden says, popping a piece of meat into his mouth. “I thought you kept Nephilims on a tight leash.”
“I do,” I say, ignoring his amused tone. “I made a mistake. And now I’m fixing it.”
"It's not your fault," Briar murmurs. Her wide gray eyes are locked on mine when I glance up. I feel a thrill of desire course through me, but I look at her coldly. "You can't be blamed for the decisions of others."
Her words strike a chord in me and my gut twists. Does she know I blame her for her father's decision? Or that I suspect her? I run my tongue over my teeth and lean forward. "What would you know about that?"
“It’s just what I think,” she says. She looks startled.
“Isn’t that nice.” Aiden claps me on the back. “Your wife will support you through thick and thin.”
“Bride,” I snap, anger flaring. I don’t need support.
Aiden smirks. “Don’t remind me.”
I glare at him but fall silent, picking at my food. Aiden is a chatterbox, hardly leaving room for anyone to chime in, but I'm not listening. I wonder if Briar would support me no matter what if she could be a constant to me. Warmth builds in my chest as I think of it. I study her as she smiles at something Aiden said. I shouldn't allow myself to hope like that – to even wish. Briar is a mortal, and she can't be trusted.
I feel moody and tired as the others finish their meals. I listen to the conversations floating through the inn, to the drunk laughter and poor singing. Shoulders hunched; I stare into my goblet of ale. Suddenly, I see the reflection of a man in my drink. I hide my surprise and rise slowly to look at him. The man sways beside our table, draught in hand. His beard is greying and flecked with food. I watch him coldly, head cocked to the side as he grins at Briar. Aiden drums his fingers on the table, chin propped in one hand. My eyes cut towards Briar before flicking back to our visitor. She’s curling in on herself, the way she does when she’s frightened.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask coldly.
The man lifts his goblet in Briar’s direction. “Wonderin’ if yer girl can dance,” he slurs.
“The girl doesn’t dance,” I snap. “Leave us.”
“She looks like she can,” the man retorts. He leers, leaning closer over the table. “’Er titties isn’t bad neither.”
Briar inhales sharply, and I go very still. Time slows for me and I have
