Page 10 of Between Life and Death

I blinked, somewhat taken aback. People did not openly speak about the Curses, but this woman had, and I . . . I felt grateful for her honesty. Grateful to just hear someone talk about it. As if it were normal.

She looked at me—I mean, really looked at me—and asked, “Do you have a loved one who bares the Curse?”

My survival instincts screamed at me to lie, and so naturally, I replied, “Yes.” And as stupid as it was to release this information to a stranger, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Of pride.

“Then I pray to the gods that you will never know what it is like to lose them at the pyre.”

Her words coaxed a shiver to spider-walk down my spine, but not because of the warning she heeded—no, it felt . . . prophetic. Perhaps my recent nightmare had something to do with it as well.

“Aye! Peasant whore! No begging on the king’s streets!” barked a soldier, his metal armor clinking as he stalked towards us—abigman exercising his authority over a helpless woman and a little child.

This was who the king chose to fight for him.

I stepped protectively in front of them, offering myself as a barrier from the king’s meticulously bred, rabid dog.

Fingers gently squeezed my arm, her voice a cautious whisper. “Please, we don’t want any more trouble. We’ll leave.”

I glanced over my shoulder as the woman took the little boy’s hand and led him quickly down the street, speckled with the browns and yellows of freshly fallen leaves. As she left, the soldier turned and walked away, but not before he gave me a warning glance.

When his back was turned, I flipped my middle finger at him before I sauntered towards an old stone building on the corner of the street.

A wobbling wood sign squeaked above me, the gentle wind nudging it back and forth.The Broken Marewas painted in simple, black lettering, as if it might ward off the double vision of the heavy-drinking patrons that frequented here. The tavern wasn’t exactly a humble establishment. It was well known for its horse-piss beer, not-so-sultry barmaids, and frequent crowd of pickpockets.

The sagging hinges provided some resistance as I shoved the rustic oak door open, the bottom groaning against the floor. I stepped through the threshold, the bottom of my shoes suctioning to the wide wood planks. I lifted one and peered at the guck stuck to my sole, the same sticky substance coating the rest of the main floor. The smell of day-old, aerated ale punched its way into my nose.

I made a face.

“Apparently, it was quite the crowd last night, but I guess that’s to be expected, considering there was a full moon,” Kaleb said as he slapped the wet mop against the floor, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. Apart from Kaleb, me, and a few mice, the tavern was empty. The hearth was void of flame, fanning the interior of the building with a cool breeze as it wafted down the chimney. But by the looks of Kaleb, he was probably enjoying the bursts of cool air. His brow was slick with sweat, cheeks heated red.

What he said made sense; Lady Light was the daughter of the moon, so when the moon was at its fullest, it was considered a good omen and the people tended to celebrate. During the summer months, when the sun was at its strongest, the celebrations surrounded the Lord of Light, who was the male heir of the sun.

“No kidding,” I replied as I walked over to the bar area and placed the basket on the bar top, which had been freshly cleaned. The bar consisted of a wooden slab propped up by two barrels on either end. On the other side of the bar top, a pyramid of barrels three rows deep was stacked against the wall, containing the notoriously awful brew—some with spouts tapped in.

“Still happy you took the job?” I asked as I began my inspection for the cleanest dirty stool.

“Someone in the house has to pull in some coin,” he said with a wink before he continued to scrub. He paused, eyeing me as I sat at the bar. “Do you want me to get you a drink?”

I snorted. “You’d have to pay me to drinkthatstuff.”

Kaleb chuckled. “It’s an acquired taste.”

My brow shot up in challenge. “I don’t believe one can acquire a taste for horse urine.”

“You’d be surprised.” He smirked as he plunked the scraggly mop back in the pail and wheeled it towards the back door, using the broom handle to steer. The muscles in his forearms contracted as he lifted the bucket, used his back side to heave the door open, and dumped the muddy water into the back alley.

The wheeled bucket was one of Kaleb’s inventions, something he’d crafted to help the owner of the tavern, an elderly woman whose frail back no longer allowed her to lift the heavy bucket, even though her young heart wanted to. At the core of that was her desire to look after the tavern, and so, the wheels gave her the ability to do so.

Kaleb was like that—always trying to make life better for people.

When Kaleb returned with the empty bucket, I closed the distance with a few long strides and placed my hand over top, conjuring from the well inside.

Kaleb pushed my hand away. “No, Sage, not here.” He lowered his voice. “What if someonesees?”

I surveyed the vacant tavern theatrically before I leaned in and feigned a serious tone. “I don’t think the mice will tell anyone.”

As if on cue, one went squealing by, its little claws prattling against the floorboards as it moved. It dove between two barrels, no doubt retreating to its self-chewed home in the wall.

Kaleb and I peered at the space where the mouse had disappeared, bursting into laughter.

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