One Fell Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles #3)(61)

I nodded. “I don’t know why, but sitting by the fire makes me feel better.”

The fire had already been laid out. Sean took a lighter from the side table and lit it. The hot orange flame licked the logs. The tinder in the center of the stack caught fire, cracking. The flames spread, gulping the logs. Warmth spread through the balcony.

I picked up the tea kettle dangling from the ceremonial stick and hung it on the metal rail above the fire.

Sean sat across from me on the bright pillows. “The Khanum would approve.”

I nodded. That’s how the Otrokars made their tea for hundreds of years.

“How are your ribs?” I asked.

“Not as bad as they could’ve been.” Sean smiled.

“I have a medbay, you know. It’s not as nice as what the Merchants had, but I’m sure you could slum it just this once…”

“I’m okay.”

I sniffed. The water boiled and I took the kettle off the fire, hung it back on the hook, and tossed the leaves into it. Tea in winter was the best… Oh. The realization hit me like a train. Maybe I was off by a day or two… No. I was right. I felt like crying.

“What is it?” he asked, focused on me.

“It’s Christmas.”

Sean frowned.

“Tonight is Christmas. I don’t have a tree. I didn’t get any presents. I didn’t decorate. I have nothing.” I couldn’t keep the despair out of my voice. “I missed Christmas.”

It was the stupidest thing, but I had to strain to keep the tears back.

He moved over, sat next to me, and put his arm around me.

This wasn’t how I planned this conversation to go. I planned on a formal detached discussion. Instead I leaned against him, because his eyes told me he understood.

“It’s just a date on the calendar,” he said, stroking my shoulder lightly with his fingers. “We can still have Christmas.”

“It wouldn’t be real.”

He shook his head.

“Helen doesn’t care that it wouldn’t be exactly on December 25th. Caldenia doesn’t care. Orro will jump on any excuse to cook a feast. Your sister





could use a Christmas. She hasn’t had one for a while. We’ll get a tree, we’ll decorate, we’ll wrap presents, and I’ll kill any Draziri that tries to interfere…”

I stuck my head into his hard chest. He held me tighter.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Residual combat stress,” he said. “Happens when a corrupted innkeeper almost kills you and then an idiot assassin shoots a nuke at you, all in twenty-four hours.”

“When did you learn Old Galactic?”

“About three or four months into the Nexus tour. There wasn’t much to do but fight and wait to fight. I went through a lot of manuals and brain imprints. It kept me from snapping. I’m a walking encyclopedia of random knowledge.”

I let out a long slow breath. He rubbed my back.

“I thought you were packed.”

“Where would I go?” he asked me.

I leaned against him and we sat quietly for a while in front of the fire. There was no give in Sean. No softness in his body. It was all hard muscle and bones, wrapped in harsh predatory strength. The lean lone wolf trotted out of the dark woods to lay by the fire because I was here. He never abandoned who he was. He still had his sharp teeth and fiery eyes, not tame, but content to behave so I wouldn’t chase him off. It made me want to go down to the kitchen and bring him something to eat.

I had put together a logical, convincing speech, but all of that seemed stupid now.

“The inn has to come first,” I said. “The safety of the guests before the safety of the innkeeper.”

He didn’t say anything.

“It’s a weird life. Once you bond with the inn, you can never truly leave. Even if you do, you still feel the pull of it. Some people view it as being trapped and they can’t wait to get out. It can get boring when there are no guests. Then again, when there are guests, it can get so busy you barely have a chance to sleep. Sometimes guests want unreasonable things. Some of them listen to you explain the danger and then run straight into it. But that’s your life. You take care of the inn. You keep them safe. They leave and you stay. Always.”

He still wasn’t saying anything.

I took a deep breath. “This is what I chose. Right or wrong, I’m here. This is my home.”

Why was this so hard? I just had to say it. Even if he got up and walked away, at least I would know where we stood.

“If you’re going to be an innkeeper with me—“

He pulled me closer. My voice caught. I swallowed and kept going. “—you would have to put the safety of the guests first. I will follow your lead in a fight. I won’t argue or beg. I won’t ask you to change your strategy. But this life would have to be enough, because I can’t unchoose it. If that’s not what you want…”

He didn’t say anything. It felt like a lifetime. The air was viscous and heavy, like I was swimming through molasses.

I raised my gaze. He was looking at me, his amber eyes full of flames from the fire. “But would I get you, if I were an innkeeper?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all I want.”