Page 5 of To Kill a King
She nearly collapsed with relief.
As her breathing slowed, she swallowed. If the king had some way to detect mages, she couldn’t stay here after all. She’d be discovered the next time she was within his presence.
Shadow merely lifted her tail in the air and continued in their original direction. Aliya scrambled to keep up.
Maybe the Mage College could help her? At least there, surrounded by other magic users, she wouldn’t stick out. They were somewhere to the south, just outside of a town called Westcliff, if she remembered correctly.
The black cat led her confidently through the halls. Aliya tried to mirror her smooth swagger, but she was too distracted and quickly gave up.
She ached to question Shadow about so many things—who she was, why she was helping—but the grounds were too full of people, and talking cats would give them both away.
The other shapeshifter steered her past the king’s garden to the main gate before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.
Aliya meowed. “Wait!”
Shadow didn’t reappear.
With a sigh, Aliya looked left and right. At least the hard part was done—she was free. The streets were busy even this late in the evening, filled with lots of giant people and things deadly to kittens. But as long as she stayed out from underfoot, she should be able to make her way easily out of town, where she could change back into a human and get far away from here. A kitten wouldn’t stand a chance of surviving the journey through the wilds to the Mage College.
But to be a humanoid, she’d need clothes. And money. She stared at Malkov’s castle, then into the chaos of Lions Grove.
With one glance over her shoulder, she bounded into the crowd in search of the market.
Back in human form and clothed, Aliya held her breath and pushed the backwater inn’s heavy door open with a grunt, ignoring the handwritten sign that proclaimed, “No Mages Allowed!” She’d shortened her blonde hair to halfway down her back and altered her bone structure and muscle tone to resemble a peasant, accustomed to hard work on a farm. The last touch had been a slight darkening her skin and adding a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheek bones. The chill of the early spring evening, and her thirst, finally forced her to seek shelter. Pipe smoke and heat from the hearth’s fire blasted her face, along with the satisfied hum of men with full bellies and empty beer mugs.
Each patron in the tavern could use a haircut and a good bath. She glanced at her frock. To be fair, so could she. At least she was several miles away from the capital, and that much closer to the Mage College.
She kept her gaze down and hood up to hide her face as she slinked to the counter. Pulling out two silver pieces, she put them on the bar. “Dinner and a room, please?”
The innkeeper leaned over as his eyes traveled from her shoes to the top of her head. She pressed her lips together and jutted her chin out defiantly as she steeled her muscles against the urge to run.
The grizzled man spit on the floor. “One gold for room and board.” His cracked brown teeth matched the wood counter.
Liar. She could read better than most. Pointing to the sign above him, she frowned. “One silver for a meal, one for a room.”
He shook his head, a broad smile further exposing his poor dental hygiene. “Not tonight. Demand pushes the price up.”
A few patrons farther down the bar chuckled. One of them sneered at her. “Hey, girlie. Yer welcome to share my room. We can work something out in trade.”
She clenched her jaw. “No, thank you.” She didn’t have the luxury of making a scene haggling with this lowlife.
The coin in her outstretched hand disappeared faster than she could blink. “Top of the stairs, second door on the right.” The bartender smirked. “Whenever you’re ready.” The innkeeper winked at the men who had laughed earlier and nodded toward her. Unkind smiles spread across the goons’ faces.
She shuddered as she turned away. Ugh. Great. Did all women have to deal with this? She’d had enough trouble today. Hopefully her room had a deadbolt.
It was too bad she couldn’t use her magic to turn the slime into a toad.
She walked to the lone table in the corner and sat, trying to disappear into the shadows. Her eyes danced from side to side, watching everyone in the room. Glancing down at her sky-blue cloak, the color of House Larimar, she cursed the instincts that had urged her to choose something familiar as she’d made her way through the market. She pulled the thin material around her with a shiver. The black wool one would’ve been warmer, and less conspicuous, but it had also cost twice as much. Slapping at her dirty skirt a few times, she sneezed at the grime it kicked up. At least completely covered in dust, there was zero chance of anyone assuming she was wealthy enough to travel by coach, and thus an easy mark.
Her gut twisted at the thought of the poor merchant whose purse she’d cut to acquire her funds. It was a meager amount, but she’d been desperate.
The barmaid brought Aliya a tankard of ale and a bowl of whatever passed for dinner and disappeared into the crowd. She downed the beverage too fast to taste it and jumped as someone dropped a mug. The world tilted sideways and she grabbed the table to avoid falling out of her chair. She took two deep breaths. She needed to be cool. Calm. Pretend this was customary, like she stayed at common inns all the time. And she needed more to drink. A lot more. Even though the ale tasted disgusting and made her head spin.
Her stomach growled. She brought a spoonful of the stew to her mouth, and nearly spat it back out. Watery, and whoever prepared it was way too fond of salt. Her father’s hounds wouldn’t touch this slop. She sighed. Still, it was better than nothing.
She should eat fast, so she could get out of sight before security came looking for her. Wrinkling her nose, she swallowed another mouthful.
At last, her bowl empty, she headed for the staircase to her room, being sure to give the other tables ample berth. According to the Larimar sentries, bar patrons were supposed to be grabby.