Excommunicated? Like banished? But wouldn’t a church like people who hunt witches? Questions barge into my head, but I hold my tongue. It’s really not my business, and I can tell Zen doesn’t enjoy talking about the church. “I didn’t expect to sleep for so long,” I say, redirecting the conversation
“Why’d we slow down?” I look back at him, breathing a little hard “There are a few Lynx nearby,” Zen says, as composed as he was when we left. If it weren’t for his windswept hair, I’d think he hadn’t been on a galloping horse “I doubt they would approach, but I’d rather avoid it. We’ll have to be
“The bar owner also worked as the head bartender,” I smile as I recall Mr. Geoffrey’s permanently unimpressed look “I was the only girl there, and he warned me the bar could get pretty rowdy at times.” “One time, an already drunk customer got mad that I messed up his drink,” I huff. I had given him
“Are you alright?” “I’m fine,” I manage to get out, holding up a hand “Just give me a moment.” We reached the city after nearly two hours on a horse that was running for its life. And only after Zen helped me get down from the saddle, did I realize I cant feel my legs. At the moment, Sparrow huff
“Zepherin!” He says good-naturedly “What a pleasant surprise!” I gape at them as the old man shakes Zen's hand with ethusiasm. Everything I ever thought I knew about old people is a lie. “I would’ve come in the day,” Zen says calmly “But circumstances forced my hand. I need a favor, Rudolf.” Mr.
I deflate in my seat. So there’s nothing to do but wait. “But, there might be a way to confirm when you should return.” He tells me “We’ll go meet the Seer in the morning. I’m afraid you’d have to wait until then.” “It’s alright,” I smile at him, though even I can tell it looks tired “We woke you
Zen clears out a table for Mr. Rudolf to set the tray down, and then plucks up an armchair for him to take a seat near the table. He has all the manners in the world until he opens his mouth. The aroma of warm stew reaches me and I realize I’m glad Mr. Rudolf suggested food. He hands a bowl each t
I can never make sense of Rudolf’s kitchen. I would like to chalk it up to the fact that I’ve only been in here once before, but the truth of the matter is that it’s a labyrinth best paved by the owner. As Rudolf goes to show Dinah to her lodging, I venture into the kitchen to wash the dishes. It’