Tw: this book will deal with triggering topics. If you are easily triggered this is not the story for you, thank you.
(Book two in the Starlight series)
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Danika Archeron had been through hell.
Forced to go back to Spring C...
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"I used to build dreams about you."
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
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APPARENTLY THE 'inn' was little more than a raucous tavern with a few rooms for rent—usually by the hour. And as it was, there were no vacancies. Save for a tiny, tiny room in what had once been part of the attic.
I wasn't complaining, but I also wasn't jolly. It was better than sleeping on the damp and cold ground outside.
Rhys didn't want anyone knowing who, exactly, was amongst the High Fae, faeries, Illyrians, and whoever else was packed in the inn below. Even I barely recognized him as he—without magic, without anything but adjusting his posture—muted that sense of otherworldly power until he was nothing but a common, very-good looking Ilyyrian warrior, pissy about having to take the last available room, so high up, so high up that there was only a narrow staircase leading to it: no hall, no other rooms. If I needed to use the bathing room, i'd have to venture to the level below, which...given the smells and sounds of the half dozen rooms on that level, I made a point to use it quickly on our way up and then vow not to visit again until morning.
Before we had entered, I took by Rhys's example, dampening my own power as I contained its energy within me. Snuffing it out until we left. A mere High Fae passerby with her..whatever.
My exhaustion had dissipated just barely on our flight, yet it still weighed on my bones and in my movements. Sleep tugging at my gently from the other end of the rope, a constant presence but not a nagging one.
Luckily, the magic I had expended playing with fire and light and darkness and storms had wrecked me so thoroughly that even without my dampen on my power, I doubted anyone would look my way. I was corrected, not even the drunkest and loneliest of the patrons so much as turned their heads in the town's taverns. The small town was barely that; a collection of an inn, an outfitters store, supply store, and a brothel. All geared toward the hunters, warriors, passing through this part of the forest either on their way to the Illyrian lands or out of them. Or just for the faeries who dwelled here, solitary and glad to be that way. Too small and too remote for Amarantha and her cronies to have bothered with.
