Page 74 of Crownless Heirs

Maelan leaned in, took a breath, and immediately made a face. “That’s definitely all of us.”

Sorcha stood from the table, her joints cracking faintly as she stretched. “I call first bath,” she said, already moving toward the back to speak with the innkeeper. Neither of them argued.

As she disappeared behind the hall, Maelan shifted in his seat, watching the crowd press tighter near the bar. Another round of drinks had just been delivered, and the energy had shifted. A game had broken out. Dice, raised voices, and a slurred song winding between shouts.

“Want to see how long it takes me to win us another bottle?” Maelan asked, already rising.

Kyron gave him a look. “You don’t even know the rules.”

Maelan grinned. “That’s never stopped me before.” Maelan wove through the crowd with ease, as if he had done it a hundred times before. Dust clung to his boots and dried blood crusted near his collar, but no one seemed to notice.

He stopped beside a game table where coins clicked across worn wood and laughter spilled between rounds. A few men sat with flushed cheeks; their faces unkind. One cursed as he lost a hand, tossing his cup down as the dice rolled out of reach. As time passed, the crowd around the table grew thicker, drawn in by the rising pot. A fresh round of drinks arrived just as a voice rose from behind them.

“I’ll play.”

Niall stepped forward from the edge of the room, his expression blank as he dropped a handful of coins onto the table beside Maelan’s. His hammer leaned against the wall behind him, its head marked with old chips and smudges of soot.

Maelan met his gaze, a flicker of curiosity passing between them before he looked away. “I’m in,” Maelan spoke as he placed coins onto the table. The next few rounds passed quietly, neither one speaking, neither one losing much, though the air around them grew heavier with each toss of the dice. What started as a game shifted with a subtle tension, the kind that started fights.

The first contact was slight, a brush of shoulders. Then came a low laugh, almost under the breath, followed by another drink passed too forcefully across the table. One of the players muttered something, just loud enough to be heard, and the group shifted, chairs scraping across the floor.

Another round passed. Another win for Maelan. Then a hand slammed down, and Maelan stood.

The table shook as ale sloshed over the rim of a nearby mug. Niall stepped back, his posture loose but fists curled. The tavern stilled around them, the noise softening into a watchful hush.

Without a word, Niall finished his drink and reached for the hammer behind him. He spun it once, the weight humming through the air. The crowd broke away, giving them space; no one dared to step in.

Kyron rose halfway from his seat, eyes narrowed. “What the hell have you gotten us into?” he hissed.

Maelan didn’t answer right away. He was already moving, eyes bright. “A little fun,” he said.

The hammer came down, splintering the edge of the table where Maelan had been standing a moment before. Niall stumbled as the momentum carried him forward, but his movements were practiced, too fluid to be clumsy. Kyron stepped in and drove a hard punch into his ribs, forcing the breath from Niall’s lungs. The hammer hit the floor as Niall twisted, bringing a fist across Kyron’s side. Kyron reeled from the hit, gasping, as Maelan circled back and landed a clean kick under Niall’s chin.

Niall staggered but caught Maelan by the ankle and, with a grunt, lifted him clean off the ground and flung him across the room. Maelan landed hard, groaning as he slid into a row of overturned chairs.

A flicker of lightning moved beneath Niall’s skin, silver like moonlight, rippled over him. It shimmered for only a moment before it disappeared, but not before Kyron saw it.

Niall saw the look of surprise that flickered across Kyron’s face. He reached over the table, scooping up the gold coins and walked out of the tavern. Maelan stood groaning, his eyes shooting to Kyron who looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” Maelan asked, one hand on his shoulder as he rolled it.

Sorcha returned the tavern a few moments later, to find Maelan and Kyron picking up chairs and cups.

“Did I miss anything?” Sorcha asked eyeing the scene suspiciously.

“I think there’s a Demi-God in this town.” Kyron replied without hesitation.

Sorcha’s face was a mix of confusion and bewilderment. “How do you know that?”

“I saw the marking under the skin like yours, but it was lightening.” Kyron said slowly as if still thinking about it.

“Where did they go?” she asked.

Maelan, no longer picking up, chimed in, “He just walked out.”

The barkeep was listening to them intently. “His name’s Niall.” The barkeeper answered as he wiped down the counter. “He works in the mines; I’d bet my inn he’s on his way there now.”

“Thank you” Sorcha replied over her shoulder as she raced out the doors.