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Page 64 of An Archer's Redemption

As we prepared dinner, I heard the familiar swell of conversation and laughter in the common room as folk, both guests of the inn and families from town, streamed in to claim their tables. It seemed the usual players were even more beloved than I thought.

Maybe Ma wasn’t the only one to notice Blondie with the Bootie.

I chuckled as I chopped.

I’d lost myself in my thoughts when a strange feeling crept up my arms. It took a moment to realize that the raucous banter had quieted and only one voice rang out, loud and clear.

I recognized that voice.

The Priest?

For reasons I didn’t understand, my heart raced.

I strained to hear the man’s words.

“. . . from the war. We believe every life is sacred and come to serve those in need with love and peace in our hearts. Each of us in this room is blessed by the Spirits with wealth and comfort, else we would notbein this room. I ask for your help, for the people of this beautiful town, for the—”

Whatever he said next was drowned out by the sound of Ma’s cleaver slamming through the evening’s meat. “Gonna stare at that door all night or help me get these meals out?”

“Sorry. It’s just—”

“Chop now. Talk later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I resumed my work but reserved part of my effort for more strained listening, though the stranger’s tone had vanished in favor of the guests’ raucous chorus once more.

Hours later, the last guest finally retired to their room, allowing us to remove tankards and wipe down tables. The evening had been a success, with the players and Mr. Pretty Bum stealing the stage and more than a few hearts.

Ma chattered away, but I heard none of it.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the Priest.

I saw his eyes, his rounded lips, the curve of his chest beneath his clinging, silky robe.

Stop that,I chided, wiping my now-sweaty brow with a shirtsleeve.He probably lives by some code of celibacy or reclusiveness or self-loathing. Who knows? Just stop thinking about him.

I glanced down and realized I’d been cleaning the same spot for several minutes and laughed at my own silliness.

“Do you always laugh when you clean?”

I nearly jumped out of my smock.

“Forgive me,” the amused Priest said from the doorway. “I did not mean to startle you.”

“Well, you did!” I said sharply, immediately regretting my tone. “Can I help you?”

He smiled and gave me a deep bow.

What is it with him and his bowing?

“I did not see you earlier. Were you able to hear my words?”

I eyed him with a mix of suspicion and curiosity, unable to resist his gaze. “I heard a little from the kitchen. It’s noisy back there, so I didn’t get all of it.”

“The players were kind enough to allow me their stage before the show. I used it to introduce myself to the town, and to ask for their support in caring for those affected by the war. Their needs are great, and the Crown can only do so much.”

I stiffened. “I’m sure the Queen is doing all she can. She only took the throne a short time ago.”

“I meant no offense to Her Majesty. I am sure you are right.”


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