Chapter 20: Backfire

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GISELLE

Giselle entered the tavern. She was certain everyone would stare, but no one did. Only a few tables were taken, just enough to remove the feeling of loneliness. The tavern itself was nice, small and comfortable. Warm fire was lit in the fireplace and one man played a flute in the corner next to it, loud enough to drown out the voices. And at the bar, the wolf sat.

Well, shit, Giselle thought, now she would have to play a game and she just wanted to sit alone with her thoughts. Deciding on taking it as casual as possible, Giselle approached the bar and sat on the stool. He was sitting on her left, drinking a cup of something that smelt like honey.

"I've always envied men for being able to sit alone in taverns." Giselle said, adjusting herself on the stool. The wolf lifted his cup towards her, without looking at her.

"God has created taverns for men to run away from screaming wives and children." The wolf said and smiled. It wasn't real, the smile, it was forced and unhappy. He wanted to be alone, Giselle realised.

"Exactly," she said, "that's what I've envied them for, I've been trying to get away from women all my life." Now, he did smile while shaking his head.

"Get the girl some mead, Benja." He told the bartender.

"Is that an invitation to a conversation?" Giselle asked.

"Depends, mostly, the only thing coming from a woman's mouth I find worth hearing is a moan." He lifted his gaze towards her and she held it.

So blunt, she thought. Yet he offered a hand earlier.

"Now, that's up to you, isn't it?" Giselle watched his eyes widen a little, almost like she surprised him.

"Foolishly brave and quick on the tongue. You just might not be the worst company in the world." He said right as Giselle's mead arrived and he lifted his cup to salute.

"So, you are hiding from a woman." Giselle came to a conclusion.

"My wife." He nodded.

"Oh, that's the worst kind. Of a woman, I mean." This won her a real smile and she found herself smiling like an idiot. Well, shit.

"And you are hiding from a man."

Giselle leaned towards him and hid her mouth as if she was about to whisper. "I think he fancies me." She said.

"Oh, that's the worst kind." He commented and Giselle smiled. It was a relief, she thought, talking to somebody who doesn't know anything about you.

"I don't know what is it with men, as soon as they love you, they think they are entitled to you. You know, wanting to serve and protect. Mostly protect." The words were out before she managed to think about them.

"It's in the blood. Where I come from, if a man cannot protect his woman and his children, he isn't really worth much." The wolf said.

Under the light of the candles, his eyes kept their grass green colour. Giselle noticed a scar, though, beginning at his temple and going straight down his face and the right side of his neck, ending behind the fabric on his chest. Someone cut him, she realised, this was no accidental wound.

"Where do you come from?" She asked and the wolf smiled.

"Clever, trying to find out more about me, when I was just starting to think we'd have a normal conversation." He's figured out the game again. Giselle lifted her cup to seal the deal she was about to propose.

"How about, instead of playing games, we tell the truth? It doesn't need to concern anything we have in common, such as the Monarchy?"

"Alright, let's move to a table. I'll get us a flagon."

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