“Sal,” Gugora says, catching sight of me in the doorframe. “I need to get back to the bar. Come help with the new guests. They need to be shown to room five.”
Cyros’s surprised expression is gone, smoothed into a neutral, bored look. He glances away from me, casually, as if he finds the inn’s decor—which is to say, dust and leaves—to be more interesting.
I set Iski’s basket down and slowly head over, frowning at Cyros’s reaction.
“Hi,” I say, stopping next to Gugora. The elf glances at me, then her gaze flicks over to Cyros. “You—”
“I’m Toshi,” Cyros says, sticking out his hand. “Nice to meet you!”
I blink. He’s lying. “Um…” I extend my hand out of instinct, then hesitate before taking his hand. He grabs me anyway, giving my hand a vigorous shake.
“We’re so glad we found this inn,” he says. “Mum and I never would have made it to Fairwood before dark.” His squeeze tightens, almost painfully, but he lets go just as quickly with a smile.
“Sal?” Gugora says, looking down at me with a frown. “What happened to your arm?”
“Oh,” I say, tearing my eyes away from Cyros. I put my hand over the bandage. “Just got scraped up in the forest. I should be fine.”
He takes my injured hand anyway, and even though he’s careful with it, I wince. Now that he’s holding it up, the dried blood that had dripped down my arm and hand stands out stark against my skin. “Blood. Quite a bit of it. Are you sure—”
“I’m sure!” I say, pulling away from him. “What was it? Room five?” I skip away to head behind the bar counter and go rummaging for the room key tokens before Gugora can get a better look at my injury.
Gugora frowns at me for a moment longer, then turns back to the elf. “Sorry. You were asking about dinner as well?”
“Yes,” the woman says, and her voice sounds just as icy as her demeanor. “We’ll take our supper in the tavern. We should be back down after we’ve finished storing our belongings.”
“Just catch Iski or I whenever you’re back down and we’ll grab you something,” Gugora says. “Sal?” he calls.
I hurry back over, keys in hand. “This way,” I say, my gaze lingering on Cyros. He smiles brightly, but it’s not like the way he smiled when he was laughing at me in the forest. This smile has no humor in his eyes. A mask. But why is he pretending we didn’t meet? Why’s he pretending he’s someone else? I decide calling him out on it probably wouldn’t be in my best interest.
“Room two is bigger,” I tell them as we head up the stairs. “Two full beds for the both of you, and I’m pretty sure there isn’t anyone there now.”
“The current room is sufficient,” the elf says. “We prefer something on the end. More windows.”
I shrug, leading them up to the door. “Suit yourself. And here’s the key. It’s magic! There’s a spell in the lock, which is synched up with another spell that’s in your token, so only you can get in. Pretty neat, huh?”
The woman takes the token with a raised eyebrow. “Yes… we know how keys work.”
Well I still think it’s cool. “Is there anything else you need, miss…?”
“Tara,” she says. “And no. Everything appears to be taken care of. Except our privacy,” she pointedly adds.
I Check her.
[Nieve, felis shadow assassin, Level 52]
So she’s also lying about her identity. Aren’t felis supposed to be cat people? If so, how come she looks like an elf? Also: holy shit, a level 52 assassin?!
Cyros clears his throat, and I realize I’ve been lingering, staring at Nieve. “Sorry,” I say, quickly backing off. “Okay. Yep. Privacy. Bye!”
I can feel their eyes boring into the back of my neck as I retreat down the hall. Instead of going to help Iski in the kitchen, however, I make a detour to my own bedroom. I need to clean up my arm, change the bandage, and wear something with long sleeves so it doesn’t draw attention. The pain has already lessened a bit since I initially stabbed myself, but it’ll still take a day for the injury to heal. Not that I want anyone here to know that. Best not to draw any attention to myself.
Well. No more than I already do.
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Cyros avoids me the rest of the night. I’m not sure how he manages that, exactly, considering I’m the one going around bussing tables while he and Nieve sit in a corner of the tavern, quietly picking at their food. But he still seems to slip away from me like a fish anytime I end up in his area.
I likewise manage to dodge Iski and Gugora’s suspicion, favoring my left arm with lighter mugs and cutlery whenever I have to take dishes back to the kitchen. With luck, it should be mostly healed by tomorrow.
Apart from our two suspicious guests, the only exciting thing of note that transpires that night is that some sort of noblewoman or politician buys everyone in the tavern a round of Gugora’s mead—a drink I’m excited to try and doubly excited to immediately spit back into the mug.
The alcohol keeps people up late, but sends them to bed hard. I still give it another hour after the last voice finishes wafting up from the tavern before I slip from my bed, keeping my shoes off. I tiptoe across my room, mentally tracking the squeakiest floorboards to skirt around. I don’t have the entire tavern mapped out, but a night or three wandering around blindly trying to unlock Shadow affinities has resulted in me figuring out the worst boards at least.
[Soft Step, level up!] Echo announces as I head into the hall. [Soft Step Level 2: instinctively find the quietest path of travel with 20% more efficiency.]
Nice. Maybe I need to keep these nightly expeditions up. But on this particular occasion, I have suspicious matters to investigate.
I make my way down to Room 5, at the other end of the hall. I pass other rooms on the way, the soft sounds of snoring or quiet discussions floating out from under the crack in the door when I’m standing next to them. It’s strangely comforting to be surrounded by all these other people, all going about their lives, all with their own plans and dreams. Even if I’m the lone person on this planet from Earth, I’m not truly alone.
I stop outside Room 5. Occasional snores resonate from Room 4, so I crouch down next to five, tipping my ear toward the crack.
Nothing. No hushed voices, no heavy breathes of sleep. I hold my own breath, ears ringing, as I lean closer. But I can’t make out a single sound from within. It’s almost eerie. Too perfectly still. The hair raises on the back of my neck, and I suddenly glance over my shoulder, down the long, dark hall.
No one’s there. At least, not that I can see. Even so, I don’t feel safe. Like a rabbit caught out in an open field. I stand back up and move as quickly and quietly as I’m able back toward my room. I glance down into the tavern when I pass the stairs, but it’s too dark to make anything out. The feeling of unease rises in me again, and I hurry back to my room. I fumble for my key as I get close, quickly pressing it against the lock as the runes light up. A breath of air brushes against me, and my heart rate spikes as I stumble into my room, throwing my door shut behind me. I jump as it rattles in its frame—I probably woke some patrons up with that—and then I’m left breathing hard, nerves crawling all over my skin, staring at my door as if it’s about to burst open.
But nothing happens. No shadows move of their own accord. No floorboards creak out in the hall. The night continues on, and my heartbeat returns to normal, and then I’m left standing there, feeling extremely silly.
I still check the door is locked before returning to bed. Maybe I’d imagined all that. Just the dark psyching me up. I was the one out there doing all the sneaking, after all.
I let out a breath and rub my eyes. I don’t know why Nieve and Cyros lied about their identities, but I’m probably blowing this all out of proportion. Sure, it’s weird, but I’m not sure what I even expected to learn from eavesdropping like that. Maybe I can try to grab Cyros in the morning and ask him about it.
Restless, I rub my injured arm, roll over, and try to get some sleep.
But by morning, Cyros and Nieve are already gone.
“What?” I ask Iski as she preps the morning gruel. “When did they leave?”
“Crack of dawn,” she says. “Almost wasn’t awake yet myself. Turned in their keys and headed out—said they needed to get to Fairwood quickly. Why, did you know them?” She pauses stirring the meal. “Do you remember them? Are any of your memories coming back?”
“No,” I say, hesitating. “It’s just, I wanted to ask the boy about something.”
“Oh?” Iski raises a suggestive eyebrow. “About what?”
A blush creeps up my neck. “Not like that!”
Iski cackles as I flee back into the tavern. I rub the heat out of my cheeks as I start taking orders, trying to distract myself from Iski’s insinuation. She’s got it all wrong. I’m not interested in boys—or girls—or anyone else! All that matters is magic. And now that I have an affinity, today’s the day I’ll put it to use. Then I’ll level up and pick a class while I’m at it. I smile at that. No matter that I won’t ever get to learn about the enigma that is Cyros. Finally, things are starting to fall into place.
The morning wanes as I rush through my chores, eager to head back out into the woods and force a level up while I play around with my Poison arcanum. Most of the guests have already checked out; as soon as the last one is gone, I can sneak away. Iski and Gugora won’t need me until late afternoon, anyway, when we tend to see the most people checking in for the night.
But the last guest—that politician or lord or whatever—is still asleep at noon. Ugh, Gugora really should cut them off from alcohol at a certain point. Eventually I get impatient with waiting and head upstairs to tell her to get moving myself. Probably not the best from a hospitality standpoint, but hey, we might need that room tonight.
And, more importantly, I’m impatient.
I knock on the door of room four. “Excuse me! Ms. Rich Person! It’s time to check out.”
I wait a moment, but no one responds. Did they already leave? Gugora says sometimes people forget to turn in the keys. I try the knob, and it’s locked. Using the master key I’d swiped from downstairs, I hold the rune up, the pad lights up blue as the latch clicks open, and I turn the knob. The door swings in.
Ms. Rich Person is not awake. She’s still in her bed, blankets tossed around her in a haphazard mess. The room smells of wine and sourness. Damn, she’s probably hungover. With a sigh, I head over to her bed to shake her awake. “Come on. You’ll have to pay for a second day if you’re going to stay any longer.”
But my instincts are perking up again, telling me something isn’t right. The woman in the bed still hasn’t moved. Goosebumps prickle up my arms and neck as I grab the blanket and peel a corner back.
Her eyes are open, her lips are blue, and Ms. Rich Person is very much dead.