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The stew was earthy and savory, and she liked it. Not as much as she’d liked the fried potatoes in Klatos, but she couldn’t imagine ever liking a food as much as that. She dipped a chunk of bread into the stew, as Jarin did, which improved the whole experience. In the end, she finished the stew before he did, and promptly pulled a dessert bowl to her.
Riella was not prepared for the pie. Her eyes rolled back in her head when the spoonful of fruity, creamy dessert melted into her tongue.
Jarin chuckled into his mead. “Better than kelp, no?”
By the time Riella finished her meal, the patrons had stopped staring at her and Jarin. Their attention had turned to the contents of a news bulletin. A few stools down from Riella, a man laid the parchment before him and read aloud to the table in general.
“Join all the kingdom in celebration of King Leonid’s wedding. The festivities will take place in Klatos, under the joyous light of the coming full moon. The High Magus of Starlight Gardens will be an honored guest.”
“That’s next week. Are we going, Papa?” asked one little girl of the man.
“We’ll see,” he replied. “Might be hard to find a place to lie our heads, with everyone piling into the city like that.”
At the mention of the full moon and Starlight Gardens, the contents of Riella’s stomach curdled. The night Polinth captured her, he’d ranted about wanting the amulet to bring Starlight Gardens to heel. He had a vendetta against them.
“Can’t believe they’re propping up King Leonid for a wedding to a Garstang bride,” said a dark-haired woman. “Rumor is, he’s got one foot in the grave already.”
“And the wedding’s so sudden, too. But that’s the Garstang family for you. The slimy bunch are trying to sink their teeth into the palace all the way from Morktland kingdom,” said another man. “You hear the other rumor, about Prince Davron being alive in Velandia? They reckon he even has a lady now. He commanded her to his castle. Can you imagine? Poor lass. He’s supposed to be monstrous.”
Jarin flinched, knocking his empty flagon over. He refused to meet Riella’s gaze as he righted it, but his brow was deeply furrowed.
“What is it?” she whispered to him.
“Nothing.”
Then, she remembered what he’d told her about the royal family. He probably felt guilt on behalf of his mother’s murderous actions, which would be triggered by mention of the prince, naturally.
The dark-haired woman’s face lit up with intrigue. “I heard the Garstangs sent an assassin after him.”
“Ah, who knows?” replied the man. “The corrupt Court in Klatos will be panicking though, if he’s alive. That’ll be why there’re sudden nuptials. They’re installing their own queen before the prince can return. Leonid will croak any day now, and it’d be war with Morktland if Davron tried to take the throne from a Garstang.”
Jarin cleared his throat.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said to Riella.
He seemed restless, suddenly unable to sit still. She didn’t particularly enjoy being idle either, so she stood at once. After placing a small stack of coins on the table, he followed her outside to the late afternoon sunshine.
“Are you worried the prince might return?” asked Riella as they started walking up the dirt road that snaked through the forest toward the mountain. “Do you believe he’ll hunt you down?”
“What?” Jarin seemed genuinely nonplussed, looking at her in surprise. “No. If he’d wanted to do that, I believe he would’ve tried long ago. He was always an honorable man. It was the Court who pursued me, back when it all happened.”
“They said he commanded a woman to his castle. That does not sound very honorable to me.”
Jarin kicked a rock with his boot. It skittered over the road, disappearing into dense green bushes. “I’ll not cast judgment on a man’s character based on rumors overheard in a tavern.”
“Well, I will.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “You can’t save every woman in the world, you know.”
“I didn’t say I was going to save her.” She paused. “But if I had longer to live, I might bid you sail for Velandia, in case he really is holding her captive.”
“Dammit, Riella!” Jarin stopped in the middle of the road.
She halted, confused. “What?”
He closed his eyes, exhaling hard through his nose. “You’re not going to die.”
“But Ferrante?—”
