Page 19 of The Obsidian Curse

The Roamers were a jovial lot,sharing jokes as well as food and water liberally. By the time theydropped us off at a large inn in busy Leafhollow, Keeran looked quite a bit better and my mood had lifted.

We thanked them profusely, and the driver, who’d introduced himself as Blossom, clasped my hands in his. “The Roamer ethos is to pay forward any kindness you receive twofold. That is all I ask in return.”

I bowed my head. “I shall. May the Eternal Flow guide your journey.”

“And yours as well, traveler.”

And then they were gone in a cascade of competing bells.

The interior of the inn looked like the inside of a tree and must have been shaped by Rootborn Fae magic. The walls were living bark in hues of amber, chestnut, and mahogany with roots twining their way up walls. The ceiling overhead was a canopy of living leaves. The furniture appeared to have been grown and not built, with tables and benches emerging seamlessly from the floor.

I balked in the doorway, unsure whether this was a Rootborn establishment or not, but Keeran brushed past me, leaving me not much choice but to follow. As we had no coin, I was considering the best way to offer my services: washing dishes or cleaning rooms in exchange for a night’s lodging. However, Keeran, careful to keep his hood up, approached the innkeeper, a grim-faced dark-skinned human man with shockingly amber eyes.

Keeran inclined his head, then spoke to the man in a language I’d never heard before. As the words tumbled from his mouth, the innkeeper’s eyes widened and his face split into a toothy grin. He grew animated, and the two went back and forth, speaking like old friends.

Eventually, the man came from around the counter and led us up several sets of winding staircases made of roots to a room on the top level of the inn, one of the premium suites.

“What in Morros’s name did you say to him? And what was that language?” I asked once we were alone in the suite’s well-appointed sitting room.

“Atlanti. It’s a language belonging to a small ethnic group who manages to survive in the Desert Deadlands. My dancing instructor was one of their people, so I learned their mother tongue. It’s one of the most unforgiving languages on Lunaterra, and for an outsider to learn it essentially enters you into a small fraternity.”

“It’s very lucky that we came to this inn,” I said.

“Not luck. While you were playing that hand-clapping game with the children, I asked Blossom about the various inns here and who ran them. From his description, I guessed the proprietor was Atlanti. He warned me off this one at first, but I asked to be dropped off here.”

I sat back, impressed.

“And while the building was grown by the Rootborn, most of the inn’s clientele are human. Which was another point in its favor.”

I tilted my head. “The Roamers assumed that you were Fireforged. Aren’t the Rootborn and Fireforged enemies? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to blend in at a Fireforged establishment?”

“There’s a high chance they could sense the curse on me. They worship Ignis, and any hint of Ignis’s disfavor would put a target on my back. They would consider themselves honor-bound to eliminate me as a scourge.”

I reared back. “How are you doing, anyway? How long will you be able to keep this form?”

The tension in his jaw grew more pronounced. “There’s a small pond out back. Tonight, I will go there and transform. That will help.”

“But doesn’t the water hurt you?”

He winced. “Yes, but not as badly as staying human. And I will not risk damaging any property if I’m in the pond.”

I didn’t like the idea of him being in pain at all, but it wasn’t like he was exactly comfortable right now.

Night fell, and the innkeeper brought us a large meal of savory vegetables, delicious soups, and warm, crusty bread. After we ate, Keeran slipped out and headed down to the pool.

I moved to the window overlooking the back of the inn to watch. Morros was nearly full, and three of his brother moons were also in their later stages, so the evening was bright.

Keeran disrobed quickly, giving me a very clear image of his powerful body in all its glory before he slipped into the water. Soon, steam rose from the pond’s surface.

My forehead thunked against the thick glass as I leaned forward. I stepped back, rubbing the tender spot, glad no one was here to see me.

15

niara

Keeran stayedunderwater for about a quarter of an hour before emerging in his human form again. When he came back into the suite, I was on the settee, pretending to read one of the books I found on the small shelf in the corner.

He sat next to me, and if he suspected that I had been watching from the window, he never said a word. We talked then, sharing our histories. I told him of growing up in the orphanage, of yearning to become a water priestess because of all the wonderful things the Order did for me after my parents died.

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