Page 5 of Shadow Kissed

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Page 5 of Shadow Kissed

Iwake in the morning and groan as last night’s events rush back to me. The shame. The humiliation. The rejection.

I throw on a pair of my trusty black leather trousers and my black corset over a black linen shirt. I always wear black. It is my colour. It gives off ‘don’t mess with me’ vibes. When I get downstairs, my brothers are sitting at the table finishing their breakfasts. Elian holds out a folded piece of paper for me to take.

“What’s this?” I ask as I take it from him, puzzled.

“It’s from Arkynn,” Elian informs me with a shrug, before he returns his attention to the food on his plate.

I take the empty seat beside my brother and glare at the note in front of me. I’m not sure if I want to read it or not. I chew on my lip for a beat, then reach for the note and yank it open.

Reya, we need to talk. Meet me at the stables tonight at eight.

Perhaps he wants to apologise. Maybe he regrets his decision, and he’ll tell me it would be an honour to have me. I shove a piece of bread into my mouth and run back upstairs to the quiet of my room, so I can be alone with my thoughts. A smile dances on my lips as I re-read his note. He wants to talk. This can only be a good thing, right?

I’m distracted all day. Evening can’t come quick enough and my shift at the inn drags. I make mistakes all day. From giving people the wrong drink to adding up their bills wrong. Weylynn watches me with a frown on his face when I apologise to the customer I’ve just overcharged by two drecks.

“Are you okay? Did my brother let you drink too much krim last night?”

I laugh. “Actually, I didn’t have a drop of krim or any other alcohol last night,” I inform him with a pointed glare. “I’m just tired, is all.”

“Did you and my brother have a fall out?” he asks, leaning himself against the bar, drying the tankard in his hand. “He came home in a foul mood last night.”

I bob my shoulders and busy myself rearranging the cups. “How should I know what’s eating him?”

Weylynn shrugs his shoulders, studying me. “Well, he’s your best friend and the two of you were no doubt together on your birthday. I figured it was something to do with you.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” I snap defensively. “He was fine when I left him last night. Can I take an early break?” I ask him, needing to get some fresh air and escape his scrutiny. Weylynn nods his head, and I don’t need telling twice. I pass through the kitchen and out into the alleyway. Resting my head against the cool stone wall, I take a deep breath. Thank the gods Arkynn hadn’t gone home and told his brother what I’d done.

As if my day couldn’t get any worse. I swear under my breath when I return inside the Inn and spot Mayla and her usual suspects sitting around a table over by the fire. Just what I need today! Weylynn follows my frosty glare.

“Do you want me to serve them?”

Releasing a deep sigh, I respond with a shake of my head. “I can handle it,” I assure him, as I push my shoulders back and head over to their table. Mayla spots me heading their way and leans into her friend and whispers something in her ear and they both laugh.

“Hey, what can I get you all to drink?”

Mayla glowers at me as she crosses her legs. “I’m not sure I can trust you to serve my drink without doing something ghastly to it.”

I roll my eyes. Drookberries. I have contemplated more than once putting Drookberries in her drink and giving her a very nasty dose of the runs. “I’m a professional. I take my job seriously.”

Mayla snorts and snickers at me. “Professional? You’re just a barmaid, Eretreya,” she says calling me by my full name. “It’s hardly a career choice. Mind you, what other job could the town sacrifice do other than serve others?”

They all chuckle at her jibe and I feel my patience wearing thin. I am not in the right frame of mind today to deal with Mayla and her cronies.

“I’ll have a red krim,” she announces.

I take their orders and return to the bar to make their drinks.

“Everything okay?” Weylynn asks me as he makes the ale for the boys’, and I prepare the girls’ drinks.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I say. I’ve been dealing with Mayla all my life. She is the prickly, constant thorn in my side. Always reminding me that I am not good enough, pretty enough, or normal enough.

“I don’t mind taking them over,” he offers. “I can sense that your patience is thin today.”

I snicker. “I have the patience of a saint when it comes to that woman.” I gather all the drinks onto a tray and, balancing it in one hand, I make my way back to their table. I should have known that the witch is plotting something the minute I saw her in here. Just as I’m almost at their table, I trip over something. I go flying, the drinks tray jumping into the air and the contents of the drinks landing all over me.

Mayla jumps up from her seat and screams. “You stupid idiot! Why are you so clumsy?”

I glare up at her from where I sit on the floor. I know full well she stuck her foot out and made me trip. I stand to my feet as the ale drips down my face and down my top. I pick up the one drink that has something left in it and I raise it above her head and pour it over her. “Oops. Silly, clumsy, me.”




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