Mirror of Embers (Book 1)

f o u r t e e n

I gave him a tight smile and shrugged. "It's not like I picked the name Bob. It chose you. It came to me. Like the gods were telling me 'his name is Bob.' The name clearly loves you, Bob." Oh, he was fuming. Gods, this was funny. Then he tilted his head to the side and said: "Fine, then the gods chose Hannah, too. I clearly don't make the rules."

I smirked. "Fine. Nice to meet you, Bob." I stuck my hand out.

He took my hand in his elegant fingers, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hannah." I didn't hide my smile that time.

We were just two people seeking quiet and peace, and yet found each other instead. It's strange how the world works.

I had never imagined I would fall head over heels for that guy.

I never imagine meeting him at a tavern in the middle of the night, because he had information on my missing friend.

The tavern was empty, some barmaid was hustling out drunken men and throwing them into the abandoned alleys. Not caring if their faces were landing face first into a puddle of . . . Ach, gods know what's in those puddles. The barmaid sees me, it's the same one I flipped the gold coin to earlier. She must recognize me too because she holds the door open for me. I hurry in and thank her. "They're in the back," she whispers to me. I bow my head in thanks and throw my hood. I wiggle my boot, wanting the reassurance that my daggers are in there. I feel the weight of them and feel something lift off my chest. I stride through the tavern with my head down. Avoiding all the barmaids cleaning the messy hall.

I end up back in the hall with the washrooms and the back exit door. But now, I notice on the opposite end of the hall there is a door marked PRIVATE.

Naturally, I head right for it. I don't bother knocking, I go right in.

The room seems like a private lounge, no ones in here, save for one person. Sitting with their back to me. It's a booth with velvet seats. This is definitely a room for rich nobles. Hoping to spend some private time with certain barmaids or other ladies who stroll through Leaky Tim's. There's also a couch in here. Velvet as well. I am not going anywhere near it. I shiver at the thought of all the people who have had dirty sex on it. Ugh.

I stroll right up to the booth and steel myself. My spine straightens. My jaw clenches. My chin is lifted high. I slide into the booth. Opposite to the person sitting across from me.

"Hello, Hannah." He smiles.

I don't, I keep my face impassive. Bored, even. "Hello, Robert."

"Robert?" He asks, his smile slipping away and turning into a frown. "Why so formal?"

"Only friends can call you, Bob. As I remember, we are not anymore."

"Ah," he says leaning back, drink in hand. Whiskey. His favourite. "I see."

He looks exactly the same. His hair is the same length and colour, his face is the same. Beautiful. Dick. Fucking dick. Why does he have to look so perfect? It's unnecessary. His eyes are the same. Their gold rings seem to be on fire as he stares into his whiskey. He takes a large swig and sets down his cup. He rubs his thumb along the glass. The same ring as Landon's is there, but the only difference is that on the sunset orange jewel there is a black crown engraved in. Their house crest.

Kam sighs, "How are you?"

"Peachy."

He looks up to me and rolls his eyes, "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Are you not even going to try and be pleasant?"

I throw a dramatic hand over my heart, "Whatever do you mean? I am perfectly pleasant, thank you very much."

He narrows his eyes at me, his gaze trails me from head to toe. His eyes linger for too long on my chest. Pig. I kick him in the shins from under the table. He yelps.