I’d seen that flash before. It was the way I’d seen them flash the day before when we were talking about Derrik.
“There were eight of them,” he stated, cutting into my thoughts. “With eight of them, they could keep watch inside and out. There’s only one of me and I’ll be unable to keep an eye on you if you’re in a different room and I can’t actually see you.”
That was logical and totally irrational at the same time.
“Am I in imminent danger of being kidnapped?” I queried.
“I’ve no idea what the imminent danger is. I just know it’s imminent so I’m not taking any chances.”
Unfortunately, that was just logical which I found annoying. I wouldn’t know, of course, but I would guess malevolent witches with the power of gods were more than a vague threat to pretty much everybody so it was probably good to be prepared.
“Perhaps,” I began to suggest, “we can request a room with two beds.”
His head cocked slightly to the side and he asked, “Is this something available in your world?”
“Yes,” I replied with the sinking feeling that it wasn’t available in this one.
He confirmed that sinking feeling.
“Well, it isn’t available here.”
Fabulous.
“Apollo—”
He cut me off. “We sleep together Ilsa.”
I clenched my teeth.
Forcing myself to release them, I drew in another deep breath and tried again.
“Okay, maybe we can request a room with a bigger bed.”
“You’ve stayed in inns on your journey, no?”
I had. Many of them. And all of them (albeit, most of them cleaner and nicer) had beds like this. We’d happened onto bigger hotels and lodges along our journey that had way nicer rooms and much bigger beds but not in a village of this size.
Drat.
He assumed my answer was what it was even not verbalized and continued.
“It will also be warmer.”
It most definitely would be that considering he was a big guy, I wasn’t exactly tiny and us sharing that bed would mean personal mattress space would be at a minimum.
Or possibly non-existent.
Shit.
I couldn’t reply as there was a knock on the door and seeing as Apollo was standing in front of it, he turned and opened it.
A boy of about ten was standing outside. He looked up at Apollo and dipped his chin. When Apollo moved out of his way, he rushed in, his arms laden with split wood, a bucket dangling from one hand.
“Milady,” he muttered to me and didn’t wait for my greeting. He dropped to his knees by the fireplace and started work immediately.
Apollo didn’t get the door closed before a girl was at it, carrying a tray with a dark bottle on it, the top sealed with blue wax, and there were two simple wineglasses on it.
“The table,” Apollo muttered to her.