The Queen's Assassin (The Queen's Secret #1)(39)
Cal is still uncomfortable, however. There are too many people around for his liking. Out of habit he reaches to pull a hood up over his head, then remembers he doesn’t have one. Maybe I can buy one in town, he thinks. Too bad I can’t get cleaned up properly first, though. He’s in desperate need of a hot bath.
He’s still a bit angry at Shadow for insisting on taking the forest trail. Even if she rescued them from her own mistake, they could have been captured or killed. The closer they get to leaving the relative safety of Renovia, the more irritated he feels.
He should probably get rid of her. Leave her behind somewhere and continue the journey alone. She can go back to Renovia. He’ll send a message to the queen that the girl was a liability. Except it seems Queen Lilianna wanted the girl to be with him, for whatever reason. He’ll have to deal with having a shadow—ha!—for at least a while longer. He’ll just have to be more assertive, stop allowing her to make decisions she isn’t qualified to make. Sent by the crown or not, Montrice is his task—he is the Queen’s Assassin. She may have been ordered to release him from Deersia, but she isn’t equipped to deal with the Aphrasian traitor.
Shadow seems to know exactly where she wants to go. She leads them directly to a tavern in the middle of town. They dismount and tie up the horses; there’s a water trough for the animals, and they can keep an eye on them from one of the tavern’s front windows.
They walk inside and sit down at a small table. A man holding a dirty rag in one hand shouts at them from across the room. “The missus will bring out some salt meat and ale for ya. Four coppers apiece.” He disappears through a door in back.
“Thank you kindly, good sir!” Shadow shouts back, a bit too jovially.
Cal leans toward her. “Do you have any coin? Because I do not.”
“I do,” she says, avoiding his gaze.
“Why don’t I believe that?” Cal says. “Look, if you were given coin for the trip, we should save it for Montrice.”
When she doesn’t answer him right away, he says, “We should leave.”
“But I’m hungry,” she says with a frown.
Cal sighs. “I might have something to eat,” he says, motioning to the drawstring pouch under his shirt in which he’d carefully collected food scraps for his escape. “Or we can catch something if need be.”
“Those moldy old biscuits you’ve been dragging around with you? Very kind of you to offer, but no thank you.” She sits up straight and shouts toward the back room: “A loaf of your freshest bread alongside that salted meat, good sir?”
“Beats stealing,” Cal hisses back at her. “You want more people chasing us? Because I’m not a beggar. Or a thief.”
“Ouch!” Shadow puts her hand to her heart. “Of course I can pay for the food,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Why would you assume I’m going to steal it?”
He frowns. It’s because he never has any coin of his own. Since she hired him from the Guild, Queen Lilianna rarely sends him off with any—too easily robbed and would attract too much attention. She sets up places for him to stay and the like instead. Of course, now that he thinks of it, he has neither Her Majesty’s coin nor largesse at hand. “You truly have coin?”
She shrugs.
“Let me see it, then,” Cal says to Shadow. He isn’t about to be fooled into eating a meal that won’t be paid for.
She reaches into the side of her trousers and pulls out a small leather pouch from a hidden pocket. She loosens the top and shows Cal a handful of shiny gold coins inside. Just one of them is more than enough to pay for this meal, and the next three after that. He raises his eyebrows and calls out toward the back room: “Make that two loaves of bread for the weary travelers, please.”
Eager as he is for his first real meal in over a month, it is still infuriating to think that the queen lavished so much coin on this green apprentice. The queen was never so generous with him—certainly not before an assignment was fulfilled, either. But at least they will be able to eat.
* * *
BELLIES FULL OF MUTTON and fresh bread slathered in creamy butter, they step back onto the wood-slatted sidewalk. Cal is practically delirious with happiness; he can’t remember the last time he ate so well, the memory of Deersia porridge is too strong. “Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to spend the night here. Rest up some,” he says. “Then head into Montrice early tomorrow.” The luxurious meal has altered his outlook considerably. If she has coin, why should they suffer? The thought of a real bed, even an old lumpy one in a tavern lodge—not to mention the possibility of a bath—is so enticing that he forgets he’s the one who didn’t want to stay in Alvilla to begin with. “We can make arrangements for our introduction to Montrice.”
“Wonder if that inn down the road back there has any vacancies?” Shadow says. They’d passed a two-story wattle-and-daub building on the way into town.
“Not sure that’s a place for a lady,” Cal says. “If you know what I mean.”
She scoffs at that. “I’m not some delicate flower . . .”
“Clearly,” he says, then puts his hand up to quiet her. “Hold on.” He sees a man tacking a sign to a fence post. When he’s finished, he walks back inside his shop—a print shop. The two of them approach the fence to read the sign up close: