edges. The buildings were less than pristine, most of them dirty and caked in sludge. The thatch roofs showed no more wear and tear than her sector in Dumas, but several of the houses and shops had missing spots of vegetation where they should have been covered.
They didn’t stop, but instead headed farther into town. Dominicus lead the way with Lazarus just behind him, and Lorraine and Quinn in front of Draeven who had fallen back to cover the tail end of their group. People watched them from the streets—their eyes following Quinn especially, her coloring an oddity in the sea of tan skin and brown hair. Some children even pointed in awe as their parents dragged them away.
“Hmmm.”
“What is it?” Lazarus inquired at Quinn’s hum.
“Nothing,” she replied. “It just doesn’t seem like they get very many visitors here.”
Lazarus looked at a young boy who was staring openly at Quinn’s long silver hair. Draeven laughed and Quinn turned back to look at him. Shaking his head, the soldier grinned at her. “He can’t help it,” Draeven said, nodding to the boy whose mother chose that moment to grab him up and march away. “Even boys who have yet to grow into manhood are transfixed by your beauty.”
Narrowing her eyes at Draeven, Quinn lips thinned as she said, “If you’re looking for amusement, I suggest you look elsewhere.”
He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Touchy,” he said with a smile still on his lips. “I wasn’t making fun of you, I swear.”
Quinn turned around and stared ahead, noting that Lazarus was glancing between the two of them with a frown before he finally faced forward as well.
When they reached the Moonlight Inn, Quinn hurried to climb down off the back of the horse. She took one step towards the front door and promptly fell forward, nearly landing face first in the mud.
“Potes,” she ground out, the N’skaran curse rolling off her tongue as she reached out and caught hold of the horse’s bridle to keep her upright. It had the nerve to huff in irritation at her and she sent it a withering glare. Her thighs were rubbed raw, her legs like limp ocean weeds. As she tried to wait to allow her legs to adjust to their new status on the ground, Draeven walked by, tossing his head back with a laugh at her predicament.
She changed her mind. If given the chance, he’d be the first person she’d kill.
As if sensing her inner thoughts, Draeven turned his gaze on her. The bastard had the audacity to grin as he turned and strode through the front door of the inn, his blond hair glinting in the dull afternoon light as the sun began to descend behind the town buildings.
Quinn pushed away from the horse and took several steps towards the inn, intent on murdering him, or at the very least stabbing him, when Lazarus stepped in front of her. She came to a grinding halt before she could crash into his wide chest, and Quinn turned her narrowed gaze upward.
“I would appreciate it if you would not plot the murders of my comrades,” he said sharply. “That will be a permanent rule of your contract for the next five years.”
Gritting her teeth, Quinn glared at Lazarus. “Fine,” she said, moving around him. “But in the future, if you don’t want your Lord Sunshine to end up with a dagger in the eye, I suggest you tell him to keep his comments to himself.”
“Noted,” Lazarus said as she moved to step around him. Quinn could have sworn she saw a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, but she didn’t turn back to see. Lazarus was a statue of indescribable complications.
Ones she didn’t want to get any more entwined with than she already was.
Stretching her legs as she walked, Quinn stumbled through the creaking door into the inn pausing to look for Lord Sunshine and Madame Manners.
The inside didn’t look much better than the rest of the town. A worn looking staircase led up to the second and third floors, nicked and chipped from years of use. The furniture in the front room had a layer of dust like it hadn’t been used in quite some time. The skinny old man that came to greet them resembled a living skeleton with sunken eyes and bony fingers as he took their money and directed them to the stairs where they’d find their rooms.
“I’m sorry we don’t have anyone to look after your horses,