A Girl Named Calamity by Danielle Lori

CHAPTER THREE

EMERALDS IN A MURDEROUS GAZE

My hood was low over my eyes as I entered the city, the darkening sky helping to hide my delicate face. Fear and doubt hosted their own show inside my head and charged me for every admission.

I relaxed when I noticed no one was paying me much mind as I blended in with the caravans rolling into town.

The castle was a colossal structure on the hill above the city. It was a menacing presence with the falling sun and the crows flying around one of its turrets. Gallant’s hooves clopped while we walked down the stone street. The smell of salted meats had my stomach growling for a warm meal. Vendors were trying to sell their wares, and prostitutes stood around brothel doors heckling possible patrons.

I passed a tavern, and a crash came from within—yelling ensued. Now that I was in the city, I had no plan on how to find an escort. I imagined they would hang around in the taverns, but I was uneasy at the thought of entering any.

I came across an inn and walked Gallant into the stables. I made sure the stable boy was taking care of him before I headed inside. The innkeeper took my money, his gray eyebrows rising as he appraised me. “What trouble do you bring around here?”

I frowned. “What makes you think I bring trouble?”

“What business does a woman have alone in the city? Seems like trouble to me,” he mused.

I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t even fool an old innkeeper. Darn you, Grandmother.

“Where can I find an escort for hire?”

He stroked his short beard. “Well, I know some hang out in the Smoky Tavern across the street, but I doubt any will take you on. They don’t like to deal with disgruntled husbands.”

I pushed my annoyance aside and ignored his comment. I was living in a man’s world. It had been so in Alger, and I didn’t expect any different anywhere else.

Later on, after I ate a warm meal, I found myself standing in front of the Smoky Tavern. I heard boisterous laughter through the wooden door, and I paused with my hand on the handle, reluctance holding me back.

“They won’t bite you, deary.” The female voice came from my right, and I turned to look at a prostitute, her red lipstick as flashy as her tight dress. Her eyes were black and cloudy, the one visible sign of Midnight Oil. Another person I couldn’t fool, and she was inebriated. Great.

“Well, maybe they will . . .” She smiled mysteriously as she looked me over. My stomach dropped, but I refused to let her comment sink in. Because if I did, I’d run back to Grandmother.

I wished I could forgo finding an escort, but I wasn’t stupid enough to believe I could get across Alyria alone. There were many brigands on the roads, and it was only good luck that I hadn’t run into any on the way here.

With shaking hands, I pulled open the wooden door and instantly coughed on the smoke clouding the air. The room was dim, only lit by a few wall sconces, which I was glad for as I made my way over to a table in the corner. Heads turned my way and looked me over as I sat down.

My hood concealed my face, and I hoped the room was dark enough so that no one noticed I was a woman. The only women allowed in a tavern were of the working variety. That was never a rule I would despise because I felt like a mouse in a lion’s den.

Some men were eating, some were drunk and bellowing with laughter, and some were grabbing at the maids as they walked by.

It felt like I were at the traveling menagerie that came through Alger once a year. I was supposed to trust one of these men to take me to Undaley?

A young boy ran through the room and knocked one of the men’s mugs out of his hand, pouring it all over him. The bearded man cursed and stood up, grabbing the boy by the scruff of his shirt. He lifted him off the ground and pressed him against the wall. My heart pounded as I watched him grab a knife out of the back of his pants and put it against the boy’s throat.

I jumped up with no other thoughts than to help the boy when a knife flew through the air and stuck into the wall inches from the bearded man’s head. Eyes shot to the corner of the room where a man sat in the darkened corner, and the voices took a dramatic fall.

The man dropped the boy, who then raced off and out the back door. I let out a deep breath of relief and fell back into my chair before eyes came my way. The bearded man pulled the knife out of the wall and turned to glare at the man in the corner. The tavern was deathly quiet as we all watched him walk to the corner of the room.

My palms were sweaty, and I wiped them nervously on my pants. If a brawl broke out, I wasn’t in the best spot. Too far from the door. Who was I kidding? Too far from home.

The man stabbed the knife into the table while they both stared at each other. The darkened corner concealed the knife thrower’s face, but I could make out that he was leaning back in his chair. His relaxed posture told everyone in the room he was unconcerned with having to deal with the burly man.

The men didn’t say anything, but I believed a lot was being said with their eyes. A conversation only men could understand, but I think the gist was:

Bearded man: Don’t throw knives at me.

Knife thrower: You gonna make me?

The tavern was quiet as the bearded man walked away and sat down.

Apparently, not going to make him.

The nervous air dissipated as voices picked back up and the drinking continued. I came to the conclusion that whoever the man was in the corner, he was the one I wanted as an escort. Kind enough to save a child, and menacing enough that men didn’t want to fight him.

My stomach was in knots while I tried to work up the courage to go over there. I debated if I should just turn around and go home. But I was humoring myself—I couldn’t go home.

Just get it over with!

My boots carried me over to his table while my mind stayed behind, wanting to ask for the tallest mug of wine available. Just for a little liquid courage. Grandmother only let me have wine on special occasions. And the last time had been on Day of Selene, when I had drunk one too many cups and ended up starting the fire with kindling. It’d turned out to be Grandmother’s precious Night of the Elm branches. It had smoked us out of the cottage for the rest of the night. She hadn’t been so happy about that. Especially because I hadn’t been able to stop laughing.

I kept my head down, and as the man’s figure came into view, I almost stopped completely. But I imagined if I acted weak I would be considered prey to every man here. I felt several gazes on me as I made my way over.

This was a terrible idea,my mind screamed at me, but there wasn’t any way I could stop now.

I didn’t know the first thing about how to properly sit at a man’s table in a tavern, so I just sat down with the hope I wouldn’t become his next practice target. I relaxed as the man only sipped on his ale as if this was normal for him. I tried to work up the courage to say something, but he beat me to it.

“What brings a woman into a tavern?” His voice was deep, and like a physical presence, it slithered softly down my spine. I looked up, no longer having to conceal my face.

This disguise was a joke, anyway.

The man studied me with interest, and I studied him back. The first straight-on glance and I had the consuming urge to look away. No one could have convinced me that presence wasn’t a physical substance because it surrounded him as if he had sold his soul, and in exchange, it would ward off any man who entered it.

I felt like turning around and running back to Alger, straight through the Red Forest if I had to, but when I met his eyes, the emerald green calmed me as if they were familiar. Dark brown hair and short scruff covered his square jaw. He had strong features. Intelligent, mesmeric eyes that I could barely look away from and that I doubted missed much. My gaze lowered to his lips, which were full, yet unyielding.

When I saw the corners tip up in slight amusement, I became aware of how long I was staring, and I dropped my gaze. My eyes landed on his drink, and I felt like downing his entire cup of ale.

Then I remembered I was supposed to answer his question, and it took me a moment before I could remember what he had asked. I pulled my gaze up to his, my heartbeat picking up at the eye contact.

“I’m looking for an escort,” I said, trying not to appear as a helpless girl. And probably failing.

“What’s the destination?” he drawled as he leaned a little further back in his chair. How it could support all of his body and presence was beyond me. They didn’t make them like this in Alger, and I wondered where he was from. I felt apprehensive about telling him where I was going, but there was no way around it.

“Undaley City.”

His eyes lowered as he rolled the ale in his cup. “What purpose do you have there?”

“None of your business,” I retorted. I was tired of being a woman. If I were a man, he would have never asked me that. I might have been completely out of my element, but I wasn’t going to be pushed around. I had to have a strong front if anyone would take me seriously.

His heavy gaze flicked up to mine as if he was surprised at my brazen response.

“Every man in here noticed you were a woman when you walked in. You don’t disguise yourself well, and trouble has written itself on your forehead. Nobody wants a part of it.”

Why did everyone think I was trouble? I wouldn’t deny it because I was. But I couldn’t do this again. I needed this man to be my escort. Mainly because I didn’t see any brigands bothering him. I had to convince him.

I sighed. “Listen, I need to get to Undaley, and I will pay you handsomely.” I pulled out the pouch I had tied to my belt. Worry gnawed at me about showing it as he could have just grabbed it and left, but I didn’t have a choice. I dropped it on the table, but he didn’t even glance at it.

He stretched out, resting an arm on the chair next to him. “I’m not an escort, ma’am.”

I paused, and then my brows knitted in annoyance. He had led me on too long when he knew I needed an escort. It felt like the whole tavern was amused as I heard some chuckles from a few men at a nearby table. I snatched the pouch off the table. “Then why didn’t you say so when the first thing I said was ‘I need an escort?’” I snapped.

His gaze burned into mine. “Sometimes that’s what people say to be discreet. And then I escort them to somewhere private, and they tell me who they need to be killed.”

Oh, bloody hell.

I swallowed hard, now regretting shouting at him.

He was an assassin.

I had the urge to pull on the neck of my shirt because the room suddenly felt hot and cramped.

I looked around the tavern, no longer brave enough to keep eye contact with him. He might kill for money, but he still saved that child. He couldn’t be all that bad, could he? I’d shouted at him, and he hadn’t killed me. That had to count for something, right?

Maybe he was exactly what I needed in an escort. There was at least one inhuman rider after me, and if this man was skilled, surely I would fare better with him than alone.

The man was patient while I dealt with the news.

That’s another good quality . . .

I hesitated, but made a decision. Dragging my gaze back to his, I said, “I need an escort, and I don’t care if he’s an assassin.”

He watched me for a moment before taking a drink from his mug. I didn’t like the patience so much now that I had to wait for what he would say.

“It would take a month to get to Undaley in good conditions. I don’t have that kind of time. You’ll have to find someone else.”

I sighed in disappointment as I looked around the room. One man was reaching down to grab something before his chair tipped over and he laid sprawled out on the floor, intoxicated. The other men at the table threw back their heads and bellowed with laughter.

“I don’t think any of the other men here could find their way out of Cameron,” I muttered, looking back at the assassin. He appeared amused, but I couldn’t be sure; his face didn’t give much away.

An assassin trait, I was sure.

“Maybe not now, while they are in their cups. But try tomorrow morning.” He stood up and tossed some coins on the table. “You might find someone desperate enough,” he said while walking away.

I watched the other men step out of his way, and he easily exceeded them in height by a head. His leather jerkin was of the best quality, and fitted his toned body with precision. He obviously had money; he didn’t need to take on jobs like mine. I would just have to come back in the morning and find someone who would.