CHAPTER TWO
ARABELLA
Oryn took his time inside. Well into his second cup, I watched from the single tiny window that faced the alley, which offered a view of the side of a taller wooden building so old, I was afraid to lean against it. I could see his blurry shape through the warbled, yellowed panes of glass.
A wench strolled by and filled my brother’s tankard, bringing him a loaf of steaming, hot bread bigger than his palm. He tore it apart with his hands and tore into the soft flesh. My stomach tightened, a pang pushing through my middle. Wincing, I pushed those feelings away and straightened my back. It only took a second for my stomach to stop chewing itself.
A young man ran into the alley and stopped just inside the shadows cast by the building next to the tavern. He planted his hands on his knees and panted, catching his breath. He was... beautiful. There was no other way to put it. Square jaw covered with a couple days of scruff, full lips, dark hair that was a little too long and hung into his eyes. He smelled good… of the dark earth that clung to his fingernails, the soles of his boots, and the hems of his pant legs.
He stood up and pressed his back against the wall before opening his eyes. In the shadows, they looked as dark as his hair, like they ate up all the light in the world.
My throat became dry.
His lips parted as he pushed off the wall, wincing. “Sorry to bother you,” he apologized.
“You didn’t,” I croaked, clearing my throat and repeating the words again, stronger.
“Good. You haven’t seen a fellow run through here in a purple coat with tails along the back, have you? I spotted him in the crowd, but haven’t been able to catch him. There are too many people in the streets.”
“I haven’t seen anyone wearing a coat at all.” A trickle of sweat slipped down my chest as I watched Oryn being served yet another pint. Damn him. He looked up and waved across the room, and then a man with pale white skin and hair slid into the seat across from him. He wore a purple coat that looked far too thick and fine to be worn in the summer. One of the coat tails laid on the bench beside him.
“Is that the man you’re looking for?” I asked, pointing in the window.
The young man joined me, stooping to get a clear view through the warped, hazy glass. “I think so, yeah. I haven’t talked to him yet, but that’s the coat.”
“He’s with my brother.”
“Why is your brother here?” he asked.
“Getting supplies,” I replied, my hot breath making a circle of fog on the glass. “Who’s the man in the purple coat?”
“I’ve been walking around for almost a week looking for work. A man gave me a job cleaning his stalls yesterday, but he said if I wanted something permanent, to look for a man in town today wearing a bright purple coat with tails. And that fellow,” he added, pointing, “is the only man I’ve seen wearing one.”
Everyone knew never to trust the rich, but that wasn’t the only thing off with the man in the purple coat. Who wore thick coats in summer unless they had something to hide? The man didn’t have pointed ears, but I’d bet the other half of Oryn’s bread roll that he was fae…
A rumbling growl tore across my stomach, loud enough that the young man heard it and looked down at my belly. I fixed my eyes back on Oryn and the strange man slid something across the table to him, hiding whatever it was with his hand.
“Are you hungry?” the young man asked.
He was close enough that I could sniff him discreetly. Rich soil. “You have a strange accent,” I proclaimed, unable to keep from staring at him and unabashedly watching his lips for the way they formed the words he would answer me with.
“I’m from the Seven Kingdoms.”
“Why did you leave?” I wondered aloud. I’d heard that there were no fae there; that the waters were as clear as crystal, and the grass as green as emeralds.
“Because leaving was easier than staying,” he answered without blinking.
There were golden flecks hidden in the depths of his irises, like a seam of gold licking through a piece of coal. His words seemed more honest than anyone’s I’d ever heard. Maybe it was because I left for the same reason. Or because I knew that if it meant something more, something better, I’d take my chances and stow away on a boat headed north.
“I know what that’s like,” I admitted openly.
He made a noise in the back of his throat and peered into the tavern again. The man in the purple coat stood and shook Oryn’s hand. What kind of supplies could he possibly have bought from a man dressed so fine? The thought ate at me. If Father’s habits had been passed down, Oryn could be into something much worse than bottles of liquor.
The pale gentleman walked quickly away from Oryn’s table toward the front door.
As if he’d heard me, Oryn finished his ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his meaty hand, then looked through the window at me. I stepped out of sight, unsure why I cared. I should’ve known he was aware of me watching him. He was a hunter, always keen on his surroundings.
“The man you seek is leaving,” I warned.
“Yeah, I saw that,” the stranger responded, his brows furrowing.
I expected the dark-haired visitor to run away after him; to leave me behind and never look back. Instead, the dark young man turned to me. “Will you do me a favor?” Before I could ask him why I should, he added, “Stay with your brother. I have a strange feeling in my gut today.”
That he even cared to warn me of such things struck a chord in my heart that had never been played. “Now that you mention it,” I began haltingly, “I don’t think you should follow the man in the purple coat. Something is ‘off’ about him. I think he’s fae.”
He pursed his lips and lingered a moment. “Take care of yourself.”
He was going to ignore my advice, which made my gut think he was making a grave mistake. “You too.” The words fell from my lips as the muscles rippled beneath his stained white shirt. He glanced back at me before disappearing around the corner, our eyes meeting for what was only a brief moment, but which felt much longer.
I jogged to the mouth of the alley and searched for him, but the young man had already vanished.
Just then, Oryn stepped out of the tavern and ticked his head for me to follow him. “We’re going to the market for a few things.”
“Food, I hope.”
He chuckled lazily, making me grit my teeth. His belly was full of ale and bread, but mine was empty. He tossed me the other half of the small loaf of bread he’d been chomping on. “If you need more than that to eat, we’d better make for the woods. That’s where we’ll find our dinner.”
“What sort of supplies did you get from that man?”
Oryn turned around so fast, I ran into his chest and bounced backward into a man who cursed me soundly for stopping so abruptly. My brother ignored the angry man and instead pointed his finger between my eyes. “Never you mind. You hear me?”
“Yeah,” was all I could muster. What has my brother gotten himself into?