Chapter 67
“Don’t drink that.”
The man’s handsome face, usually so composed, was flushed and damp with sweat from his hurried arrival. I blinked, meeting his earnest violet eyes, then reached for a different glass instead of the one he’d stopped me from taking.
“Lina.”
Helion snatched that glass away too. Two hands, two glasses gone. Surely, he couldn’t grab any more. I reached for a third.
“Lina!”
Crash!
With a roar, Helion swept his arm across the table, sending the remaining glasses tumbling to the flagstone floor, where they shattered.
“You’ve barely recovered! How can you be drinking already?” He sounded like a husband confronting an unfaithful wife.
I stared at the glittering remnants of what I hadn’t even had a chance to sip. “Says the man who nearly killed someone, then had the audacity to…” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, my gaze fixed anywhere but on him.
He stiffened. “…I…I…”
“How did you even know I was here? Were you spying on me, like your father?” I twisted the knife, aiming for his most vulnerable spot. Helion remained silent.
I glanced around. The knights stationed at a distance hesitated to intervene, recognizing Helion as the source of the disruption. The commotion had drawn the attention of the other patrons, who now watched from afar. Suddenly feeling like a monkey in a zoo instead of enjoying a quiet drink, I stood abruptly.
“You broke them, so you pay. I’m going somewhere else. I don’t want to cause any more of a scene.” It was a shame, this place had the best view of the river.
As I walked away, Helion fumbled for some money, thrust it at the server, and hurried after me. Everywhere I strode, eyes followed us, some recognizing Helion, others simply drawn to his striking appearance.
My hopes of a peaceful drink were clearly dashed. Sighing, I turned off the main street and onto a narrower side lane.
After a couple of blocks, I found a suitable pub and slipped through its wooden doors.
“Welcome! Are you alone? Please, find a seat.” A portly man with a cheerful face greeted me. I settled at an empty table in a quiet corner.
Helion had followed me inside, but he seemed hesitant to approach, hovering awkwardly nearby. His broad shoulders, imposing height, and undeniable attractiveness drew the attention of the pub’s few other occupants, who glanced back and forth between us.
The owner, delivering drinks, leaned in and whispered, “Lover’s quarrel?”
“He’s not my lover,” I snapped, loud enough to make the other patrons’ ears perk up and Helion wince.
“Not your lover, eh? Come to collect a debt then? He looks familiar, though.” The owner, still curious, returned to his post. Ignoring Helion’s considerable presence and the attention it attracted, I lifted the heavy mug of ale.
The cool, golden liquid washed over my tongue, a burst of crisp bubbles tingling in my throat. It was a delightful sensation, far superior to the weak wine served at the temple.
A sigh of contentment escaped my lips. I drained the mug, ordered another, and Helion’s expression darkened with concern. Undeterred, I finished the second just as quickly and ordered a third. The warm trail of alcohol felt good, a comforting reminder that I was alive.
A smile played on my lips as I reached for the third mug, and Helion finally seemed to reach his limit. He started toward me, just as a newcomer pushed open the pub door and froze, staring at him.
“Lord Helion Ziek? No, Marquis Helion Ziek?”
The surprised and slightly awed greeting made everyone in the pub, who had been subtly observing Helion, stare openly.
“Marquis Helion Ziek?”
“Ah, yes! That’s why he looked so familiar.”
A young couple, presumably on a date, clapped their hands in recognition. The girl leaned towards her companion and whispered, “So that’s her? The one from the victory parade, Ariana or whatever her name is.”
It’s Adelina, not Ariana. And if you’re going to whisper, at least make it a real whisper.
“She’s pretty, but not that pretty.”
“Shh, she’ll hear you.”
Too late. My appetite for ale suddenly vanished. I set down my mug and started to rise…or not.
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