Winter Embers [ Book 2 ]

Chapter Twenty-Four

      The common room was as quiet as the street had been though not nearly as empty. In the far corner a fire crackled merrily casting its orange glow across an array of mismatched arm chairs. One was occupied by an elderly fellow who seemed to have dozed off with a pipe in his mouth and a book resting across his lap.

      There were a few tables, their worn polished surfaces gleaming in the firelight. The chairs set up around there were as different from each other as could be yet they all seemed to fit somehow giving the space a cozy, homey feel.

      It was the smell, however, that grabbed all of their attention. It was a savory, meaty aroma that wafted through the space and filled every nook and cranny. Stew of some sort perhaps? Pot roast? Whatever it was didn't really matter, Claire was suddenly starving and her stomach twisted almost painfully in response to a potential meal.

      Opposite the fire was a long counter behind which hung a dozen or so brass keys on rings. Attached to the ring was a colorful tag upon which was written a number, no doubt the room to which the key belonged. On the counter was a ledger of some sort and beside it a bottle of ink and a pen. Xeiren reached out and lightly tapped the top of a worn, silver bell. The soft, tinkling sound caused the man by the fire to startle, a disgruntled snore escaping him before he drifted off again.

      They waited several moments and just when Xeiren was about to ring the bell again, a curtain to the left of the keys was swept aside and a short, squat woman came into view.

      "Gaspard, what– oh, guests!" she exclaimed, her initial annoyance at being disturbed fading the moment she realized she had unexpected company. "Forgive me, it's not often we get visitors, even less often that they stumble in so late in the evening."

      "No apologies necessary, ma'am," Xeiren replied with a short bow. "We'll be needing to rent some rooms for the evening and, if it's not too much to ask, several servings of whatever it is you have cooking in the back."

      The woman beamed at them, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Of course, of course, how many rooms will you be needing?"

      "I think three should suffice," Xeiren said, looking back towards them. "Two to a room seems reasonable? Claire will get her own space, naturally."

      Rollan looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end seemed to decide against it.

      "That settles it," the woman exclaimed, pulling the first three keys from their hooks. "If you'll follow me I will show you to your rooms. Once you get settled, you can come back down here and I'll get you set up with some of the best beef and vegetable stew in town.

   

      A little over an hour later, Claire found herself falling into bed with a full stomach and lids so heavy she could barely keep her eyes open. It had been a long and exhausting day that she was more than grateful to put behind her.

      Dinner had been uneventful, the stew and accompanying sides of warm, fresh baked bread and cold butter being by far the best meal she had eaten since returning to Oria what now felt like eons ago.

      Ensconced in the warmth of the common room, surrounded by the people she'd come to care about the most, Claire had almost been able to foster a sense of peace and contentment.

      Almost.

      Perhaps it was Rollan's pensive expression, or the bandage wrapped around Draz's head, maybe it was the dull ache in her heart that had become so persistent that Claire found it easier and easier to ignore, whatever the case, she couldn't keep thoughts of Alek from creeping to the forefront of her mind.

      It wasn't until they were parting ways in the hall upstairs that Rollan finally found it within himself to speak his mind.

      "Are you sure you're okay by yourself? I can sleep on the floor by your bedside if it would make you feel safer," he said, grasping Claire's elbow to stop her just as she was about to slip into her room.

      Tired from the day, it took Claire a moment to realize what he meant. She wasn't sure what to say as she didn't quite know the answer herself. In the end, too tired to give it too much thought, she offered him the most reassuring smile she could muster.

      "I'll be fine, if anything happens, I'll make sure the entire inn knows about it," she had assured him. He had continued to look skeptical, but eventually relented, releasing his light hold on her and offering a brisk nod.

      Now that she was alone with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company, she wished she had taken Rollan up on his offer.

      Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep, but the exhaustion that had made even climbing the stairs seem impossible minutes before had vanished leaving her feeling restless.

      Which, perhaps, was a good thing for if Claire had gone to sleep the moment her head touched the pillow than she might have missed the tapping.

      It was faint at first, consistent but not rhythmic. As she lay there, the tapping grew louder and louder until she had no choice but to acknowledge it. Sitting up, she pushed the blankets aside and swung her feet to rest against the cold floor; her toes curling in protest.

      The room itself was small with only a bed, a side table with a bowl for water and a small, square mirror mounted onto the wall above it. In the opposite corner was a small brazier whose coals had burned down to glowing embers casting a faint glow across the floor. Lastly, there was a single window over which heavy drapes had been drawn allowing only a sliver of moonlight to peek through. It was here that Claire went, confident the tapping was coming from the otherside of the drapes, a bird perhaps?

      Throwing the curtains open, flooding the dark room with silver light, Claire was surprised to see nothing there. Stepping up to the frosted panes, she leaned close and peered out into the moonlit street below. Not a soul to be seen, not even silhouetted in the windows of the now dark houses across the street.

      The tapping, however, persisted.

      Claire felt the hair on the back of her neck stand and as she turned slowly, she fixed her attention on the mirror. From where she stood across the room she shouldn't have been able to see her reflection yet, somehow, there it was, all pale faced and wide eyed staring right back at her. 

      Taking a step closer, Claire realized hers was not the only reflection gazing back at her, there was something else, something hiding in the shadows. Before she could turn around, she saw long, white fingers pushing through her hair and felt their cold touch as they danced across her sink to lock around her throat.