if they can’t decide if they want worship you or hide before you notice them? Used to them sighing in rapt devotion all over a smile from you?”
“All of that.” She winked at him. “The fae eat babies at breakfast, didn’t you know? Mere humans should know better than to anger us. That’s why they sigh—it’s not devotion. It’s relief.”
“Babies for breakfast.” He chuckled as he pushed his hood back. “All the elves I’ve ever known were vegetarian.”
Now able to see him completely, she had to wonder at some of her fae cousins who never left Eivisia, convinced they’d never find a lover or mate among the mortal races.
How wrong they were.
This man’s face could have been carved from alabaster—should be, forever captured by an artist’s hands so future generations could gaze upon the elegant perfection, the only imperfection that slight crook in his nose.
Just how did he know that little fact about the People?
“Are you going to give me away? Let them know how meek and cowardly we really are?”
“I didn’t say a thing about meek or cowardly.” Gesturing to the seat at his side, he said, “I’m impressed, though. Even as drunk as he was, I didn’t expect him to show much in the way of common sense. Zhalia’s not a bad province, all in all, but this particular town? You rarely seen a guard back down from anything short of a fair fight.”
“It wouldn’t have been fair. I could have taken down a man like him when I was barely old enough to pick up a sword.”
He grinned at her. “Well, there is that. I imagine you already noticed the other guards in here. It was still a risk, confronting him.”
“Hardly.” She sniffed. “Zhalians are notoriously superstitious—it will take generations for their distrust of the magickers in this world to fade, even though it was the People who aided them when they finally decided to overthrow their oppressive rule. They still believe that we lurk around in the shadow world, waiting for people to displease us so we can haul them away to harvest our mines for us.”
“I doubt you’d let anybody not of fae blood into your mines,” the swordsman said. “Not as protective as you lot are of your treasures. Speaking of which…”
He tossed something at her feet.
Tyriel heard the clink of coins and narrowed her eyes. “What’s this?”
“Your coin.” His eyes slid past hers before moving to the inn’s entrance.
Her sensitive ears caught the sound of movement, even above the normal noise—furtive and fast, somebody fleeing. Sighing, she scooped up the coin purse and glanced at the cap she’d put down to collect any money that might come her way while she played. “Pickpocket?”
“Aye. Can’t decide if he was stupid or bold as brass, stealing from you once he knew who you were.”
“Bit of both, most likely.” She opened the coin purse and transferred the funds from it into hers, then tossed the emptied bag to the swordsman. “If you haven’t eaten tonight, I’ll buy your meal to thank you for your trouble.”
“I’ve eaten. But I won’t say no to company as I finish my ale, since it seems you’re done playing.”
Tyriel glanced around. “Oh, I’m done.”
Once they were at a table, closer to the door and far from the guards, the swordsman lifted a tall, pewter mug in her direction. “To interesting nights.”
She inclined her head, watching as he drank before shifting her attention back out over the crowd. She’d been in this inn before, had rented a room in the inn on her last trip through.
The town hadn’t been like this.
“Can I buy you one?”
“I’ll pass.” She glanced at him a serving wench put another mug on the table in front of him. She shuddered in distaste, remembering the one taste she had taken earlier. He took another drink, licked foam from his lower lip. Her belly tightened as she imagined echoing that movement herself, licking his lower lip. For that pleasure, she might even torture herself with the taste of shitty ale, if she could taste him.
But there was no sign of interest in his eyes. At all.
There goes my pride, Tyriel thought.
“You seem to know quite a bit about the kin,” Tyriel said after declining the offer of ale. “How is that?”
He flashed her a grin. “I get around.”
“That knowledge doesn’t. At least not easily.” She ran the tip of her finger idly over a scar in the worn table’s surface. “You’ve already mentioned two things about the People that