Of Caverns and Casters ✓ [TLRQ #1]

Chapter 24 - Leavi

"Oh. Right." Projecting her voice, she says slowly, "A jo-ob. Wo-ork. You. Need. Yes?"

I actually have a harder time understanding her like that. I fist the over-large fabric of my skirt and force a smile. She means well, I try to convince myself. I sound like a dumb foreigner to her.

In Errelian, Sean prompts, "And now you say yes to the generous ditz, Riveirre."

Unable to glare at him in polite company, I turn him my bright smile instead. Confusion melts some of the arrogance on his face.

Marcí blinks at him. "What, dear?"

Switching back to their language, he says, "I'm just translating for her." He meets my eyes, smug smile glued back into place.

"Oh, good! So she'll take the job?"

He waves at me with his spoon. "I'm sure she can answer for herself." He leans forward, one elbow on the table, waiting for my response. Marcí's attentive eyes focus back on me.

I gather my words as my head dips graciously. "Yes. Thank you."

"Great! I. Can. Get. For. You." She beams and returns to her food.

I take a breath as I sink my spoon into the broth. This woman saved us from the rain and the wilderness. I can bear a little condescension. Conversation continues, and my gaze flicks up. Jacin's eyes offer a subtle apology, but Sean looks like he's trying to keep from snickering. I raise my brow at him, but his smile just creeps wider, the gloat of a self-satisfied fox. I look away.

Marcí keeps up cheerful chatter all through dinner. Despite my efforts, though, my tired mind refuses to keep up. The thrumming rain plays on the roof like music, its simplicity enticing. The drops are drums, the wind a pipe, the thunder crashing cymbals. No words, no expectations. The noise is hypnotic.

Eventually Marcí claps her hands together, and I start back to reality.

"Oh, dear me!" She places a hand on my shoulder. "Is she normally this skittish, Mr. Rahkifellar?"

I lean forward on the table and in Errelian say, "Sean, don't you dare—"

"Oh, we've got her all worked up." Turning me toward her, she leans in close enough our noses almost touch. Over-enunciating, her lips contort as she purses each word in slow motion. "It is okay. I did not mean to frighten you."

Frustration wells within me. I'm sick of being overpowered, by the Traders, by Sean. I'm not adding this woman to the list of people I don't get a voice with. Tired, lonely, and desperate to do something, I shoot to my feet, causing Marcí to jerk back. "I am not frightened."

A shocked silence stretches through the room. I stand there, quivering from fatigue. The stress of the last two months is slowly crashing in on me, making my head simultaneously fuzzy and strangely electric. "Just exhausted," I murmur in Errelian.

Sean makes the switch with me. "Riveirre, you're overreacting. Calm down before the weird landlady decides she doesn't want to host us after all."

My eyes flash to his. Angry tears well up against my will, and his gaze softens. "We're here now, Riveirre. No more wandering. Even if she is a weirdo, even if this is improbable, at least we're somewhere now."

My head dips.

"I think it's been a long day," Jacin interrupts. "Especially for those of us who had to travel to get here. Perhaps it's time we retire."

Marcí mutters, "Well, if they're going to be rude, I'm not sure I—"

"Marcí." Bukki sets a hand over his wife's. "Jacin's right. The girl's just tired. Why don't you show them their rooms?"

His kind eyes hold hers until she relents. "Oh, alright. Come along." Sean grabs his bag from beside his chair and follows her. I do the same, chagrined but grateful for the promise of a bed. She takes us up a flight of stairs and opens the doors to two opposing rooms, gesturing for me to enter the one on the right.

A candle in a tin holder dimly illuminates the space. Gaudy flower prints cover everything: the comforter, the rug, the runner over the bedside table. They're even painted on the walls and carved into the foot chest and headboard. Lacy curtains line the two windows on either side of the bed and ridiculous frilly pillows dominate it.

Nothing's ever seemed more inviting.

"Let me know if you need anything, dear. Oh, and here's the key." She presses it into my hand.

I stare at her, knowing how generous this all is. I could be in the rain right now, wandering in search of shelter, but instead, I'm here, warm and safe. Though we have nothing to offer her, though I've been less than polite, she's helping us.

"Thank you," I say warmly.

My accent apparently reminds her that she has to talk to me like I'm three. Too loudly, she answers, "You. Are. Welcome!" She smiles at me, then leaves, closing the door behind her.

Shaking my head, I drop my bag and collapse onto the bed, sinking into the luxury of a mattress. It cradles my body, far more forgiving than the ground. Slipping underneath the heavy comforter, I nestle into the mountain of pillows.

With my eyes closed, I almost feel like I'm back home.

A silent sob pulses through my body at the unexpected thought, and I burrow down further. My heart is suddenly so heavy, so full, it seems like it should rupture. Instead, tears just leak from my eyes.

They don't seem like enough.