Ire Taverness's Arc

Chapter 14 of 19

Ire held on longer than she meant to. Kael's arms closed around her ribs and lifted her off the boards. She pressed her face into his neck and breathed him in. He smelled like road dust and pine. He set her down but did not let go. "You're late," she said. "By an hour." "By six." "By six," he agreed. His thumb brushed under her eye. "You didn't sleep." "I kept a plate." "I saw it." The second cook cleared his throat behind the bar and turned toward the kitchen. The floor girl found a table that needed wiping. The widow's boy carried the slate upstairs without being told. In a minute the common room was theirs. Ire stepped back and looked him over. Both hands. Both shoulders set right. No blood on the collar. Her tail loosened against her skirt. "Sit," she said. "Eat." He sat. She brought the plate and the ale herself. He ate the way he ate after a job, steady and without talking, and she watched him from across the bar the way she had watched him a hundred times. When he pushed the plate away, she poured him a second cup and one for herself. "It's done," he said. "Say it clean." "No more road work. No more couriers. I'm here." She set her cup down. "Every night." "Every night." She reached across the bar and took his hand. His fingers closed over hers. She turned his palm up and pressed her thumb into the callus below his index finger, the spot where he gripped his blade. He let her. "Then I want to start," she said. "Start what?" "The baby. Now. Not next season. Not when the standing order settles. Now." He smirked and then chuckled as he brushed his thumb over her lip, “You’re in for another night then.” "Then we start." "Tonight." He quickly stood and came around the bar. He picked her up under the knees. She laughed against his shoulder, and he carried her past the cold hearth and up the stairs. She latched the door behind them.