Free The Sartious Mage (The Rhythm of Rivalry) by B.T. Narro Page A

usual. I realized what the punishment was then.
    “Thanks to that scene you made, we have to find another inn.” I spoke with my coldest voice.
    We walked the better part of a hundred steps before she spoke. “You’re not going to gag me?”
    “How hungry are you?” I asked.
    “Starving.”
    “How thirsty are you?”
    “Extremely.”
    “How tired are you?”
    “On the verge of passing out.”
    “How much worse could things be right now?”
    She took a slow breath to think. “Not much worse, I guess.”
    “Then I’ll save the threat of the gag for when it’s more useful.”
    She kept her head forward but turned subtly to look from the side of her eye. I could tell she was trying to study my face without me noticing.
    “What will you do if I do that again?” she whispered.
    “Is that something you’re planning?” I would’ve turned to her with a scowl, but I was too tired.
    “No,” she answered in a defeated voice.
    We walked a whole mile, each too exhausted to argue. She did say one thing, actually, not that I replied. She told me that her feet hurt. I looked at her shoes, possibly for the first time. They must’ve been the same shoes she planned to wear at her wedding. They seemed closer to slippers than shoes, made from flexible leather dyed white. More of her foot was showing than the shoe itself. They were definitely not meant for walking long distances.
    When I finally saw an inn, I was more worried than relieved because if it didn’t have a place to bathe, that wouldn’t stop me from renting a room. That meant my promise would be broken—something I’d hoped to avoid. But we needed food, water, and sleep. If she didn’t understand that—too bad. She’d ruined her chance to bathe in the last inn with her demand for my arrest.
    I could feel both devastation and relief building as I opened the door to the inn. One of them would overcome me depending on whether there was a bathing room. Lisanda must’ve felt the same way—we were in the same situation, after all. Though, by the look on her face, it seemed as if she felt more optimistic than I did.
    “What the Bastial hell is she wearing?” The innkeeper spotted us and rushed over before I got a good look around.
    I half expected Lisanda to give him a sharp retort, but instead her face fell to the floorboards.
    I ignored the question. “We’re very tired and have had a terrible day,” I said as an excuse to speed things along. “The sooner we can have a bath, a meal, and a bed, the better. I’m hoping you can offer each of these things?” I shook the purse of coins. It felt awkward to show off money like that, but from our appearance, it seemed necessary.
    The innkeeper had a small face with a pointy nose. His wide mouth straightened in consideration. With only a few table lamps to light the room, his eyes were just as dark as Lisanda’s hair.
    “It’s quite late,” he said. “I can promise you a bath and a room, but let me speak to the cook about a meal.”
    A bath! I was so relieved my hunger was forgotten for a breath. But a thought stifled my excitement—how would I make sure Lisanda wouldn’t take advantage of the privacy during a bath to escape?
    I had an idea, although she wasn’t going to like it.
    “Thank you,” I told the innkeeper. He hurried off to the kitchen.
    Lisanda desperately wanted to sit. I could see it on her face as she stared at an empty chair ahead of us. We said nothing as we waited for the innkeeper to return, simply stood and shifted weight from one foot to the other.
    “You’re in luck,” the innkeeper told us. “We have some leftover potatoes and bacon, but both will be quite crispy upon their second heating.”
    Lisanda pouted softly, obviously hoping for a better meal.
    “That would be great,” I answered. “We would like to bathe first, if you don’t mind.” I wasn’t about to take off Lisanda’s tarp until she was ready to change into the tunic. That wedding gown would be too