Page 64 of The Kingdom's Reckoning
"It’s quite all right," Myra said, smiling meekly and silently apologizing for her companion’s rude behavior. The sooner they sat, the quicker they could eat and go to sleep, both of which were much needed if the captain’s attitude was any indication.
The stranger looked down at her and tipped his hat. He headed toward a table across the room where a small group was laughing.
Myra felt the light press of a hand on the small of her back. As Laurince leaned down, his breath kissed the side of her neck. She stiffened.
"Over there," he said over the music, his deep voice sending a ripple of goosebumps over her skin, "to the right."
In the corner, a table with four chairs sat against the back wall. Myra made her way toward it. Although, her steps were more rigid than before as her focus kept returning to the warmth on her back.
When they reached the table, Laurince pulled out a chair with his free hand, and the legs scratched the rickety floorboards. He gestured to it, and Myra sat, her back suddenly cold once he removed his hand. Laurince plopped down in the seat across from her. Tossing his arm across the back of his chair, he scanned the crowd.
"You should be more careful," he said after a moment without looking at her.
"Pardon?" Myra asked. What did he expect? Someone to charge at them in the middle of the tavern? How barbaric did he think people were?
He turned toward her. "You nearly got knocked over. What if the man had pulled a knife on you? What would you have done? Smiled and thanked him?"
Myra’s mouth fell open. "Aknife? We’re in a public place. You have to be joking."
His expression remained flat.
Apparently, not.
"I never joke about safety," he said.
"Oh? And what about our friend over there, hmm?" Myra asked, avoiding saying the king’s name in case someone nearby heard her. She may have been clumsy, but she wasn’t ignorant. "Shouldn’t you be focusing onhissafety?"
"I am," Laurince stated, matter-of-factly.
Myra leaned back in her chair. "Really? How? You’re on the other side of the room."
"I can see him just fine from here," he said, flicking his hand dismissively. "And he’s armed. You’re not, despite my efforts to change that."
Shaking her head in disbelief, she looked over her shoulder.
Rian still stood at the bar, chatting with the innkeeper. The woman was now leaning her elbows on the bar, mimicking Rian’s position. Rian twirled one of her ink-dipped curls around his finger, and Myra could faintly make out a blush coloring the innkeeper’s cheeks.
"What ifshepulls out a knife on him?" Myra asked.
"Honestly, if she does, good for her. That’ll mean she hasn’t fallen for his sad-boy eyes."
Myra snorted. "Hiswhat?"
"Oh, come on," Laurince said, rolling his eyes. "You’ve seen them."
"I don’t think I have."
Laurince sighed and leaned one arm against the table’s edge. Myra’s attention caught on his bicep for a second before he waved his hand in a circular motion in front of his face. "You know, he has that face—that look-how-sad-I-am-won’t-you-fix-me look. Everyone falls for it."
Affronted, Myra sat up straighter. "Not me."
Laurince arched a brow. "If you say so, Haze."
Warmth spread to her cheeks, and of course Laurince quickly noticed. He slapped his hand on the table. "See? I knew it!"
She could feel the red hue deepen, but she kept her lips sealed. Because if she denied it, he would have known that the blush wasn’t a result of Rian’s supposed "sad-boy eyes" but the nickname the captain used so freely with her. And she really didnotwant to admit that.
"Anyway, I think you’ve strayed from the point," Laurince said, leaning back in his chair so the front legs lifted off the ground. "People will take advantage of your kindness. You need to be careful." The chair legs smacked the floorboards. With one last cursory glance her way, he faced the crowd again, his posture becoming rigid once more.
