Darkness in Valhalla

Chapter 11: False Pretenses

Originally I'd promised to take my time and enjoy the assignment, but the tension never left me. When I finish the second location, I'm conflicted between returning home and staying in the local guesthouse like I had planned before the journal problem. Pulling my jacket close, I watch the last specks of sunlight set into the velvety horizon and decide on the latter.

The room I booked isn't available for another hour, so they sent me to the tavern next door and my horse to the shed in the back. So here I am, sitting in a rowdy bar in a foreign town, with a book that might get me executed in my satchel. When I said I wanted adventure, this was not what I had in mind.

A drink appears before me, and I look up at the bartender, confused.

"I ordered water, not... whatever this is," I argue,

"It's on the gentleman over there." He points to a group of men guffawing at something when one of them makes eye contact with me and grins.

"Leave it here then." I turn my attention back to the glass.

Drinking was something I never tolerated, especially considering what it did to my mother. Even now, I didn't touch the alcohol before me, despite how much I wanted to get wasted and forget today. My fingers trail the glass lazily when someone shifts in the seat next to me; the boy sent me the drink in the first place.

"You're not from around here, are you?" He attempts to strike up a conversation.

"Something like that." I tried my best to be as unresponsive, but that man was determined to talk.

"Not to your liking?" Gesturing to my untouched glass.

"Don't drink."

"So what's a beautiful girl like you doing in a bar if you're not going to have something?"

I might have flirted with him if I had the mind, he was cute enough, but I was so tired from today that I just wanted to go to sleep and head back tomorrow.

"How about we do something else, then."

His voice is suggestive, and it takes my entire being to not gag in front of him. I didn't have the heart to argue, and there was still time in my room, so I took the easy way out. I raise my hand and look him in the eye,

"I'm married." My gold apprentice ring glitters.

If that man had any self-respect, he'd leave. Instead, he takes that as a challenge,

"I don't see a husband here, and I doubt he'd be bett...." That sleazy fucker.

"Complete that sentence." A gruff voice threatens behind me.

Startled, I look behind me to find Caspian, and while my breath hitches, I'm utterly bewildered at what he is doing here. Strategically, he places a hand on my shoulder, his own ring easily visible, while my heartbeat fastens at his touch. Looking behind, I see that he has this fury on his face that I can't place, but the guy still doesn't back off.

"And what if I do?"

Men and their egos, they really needed a reality check. Determined to end the whole mess, my hand turns to the knife hilt on my waist, and in the next two seconds, there's a dagger between the bar guy's middle and index finder. I missed by an inch, and the look of horror on his expression indicates he thinks it was a miracle.

"Who the fucking hell..." he stammers,

"Watch what you say about my wife." Caspian grits

Wife.

Years ago, when love filled the tiny rooms back home, one thing I envied was my parents' affection for one another. So simple, pure, and heartwarming. Sometimes I dared to dream that I would find such happiness that I would grow to build a loving life with someone like this. But that dream shattered with my father's death and my own curse. But hearing that word from Caspian's lips brings out that buried desire, a foolish longing at most.

That's the end of the conversation because, at that point, the guy thinks we're both insane and hurries back to his friends. I would've strayed from the meeting in the first five seconds if I were him. When a girl said no, she meant no. With that in mind, I raise an eyebrow at Caspian, silently burying the intrusive thoughts in my head.

"I don't think my memory is that bad that I'd forget marrying someone like you."

"Trust me, little alchemist, I wouldn't let you forget." He smirks.

I feel the heat in my cheeks and sigh. There was no energy in my body to argue with Caspian, so I ignored his snide remark and headed back, hoping my room was ready. To my utter luck, he follows me into the guesthouse.

"Why are you following me? And why are you here? How are you here?" Frustrated, I corner him.

He doesn't answer, and then I push him away angrily,

"Why do you show up everywhere? What is wrong with you?" Hurt laces my words, "just...just leave me alone, please."

"Astraea, what's wrong? Talk to me." He pleads, and I see this vulnerability in him and want to melt into him. I want him to hold me as I tell him everything; I want all that hurt and tension to flow out of me and into something that isn't my heart. But I don't, and I never will.

"I don't want to." I turn back.

But he grabs my wrist, unrelenting and unwavering. The thought almost comforts me, but this morning flashes by, and I'm heavily aware of the forbidden book in my bag. I pull my hand back and hiss back,

"If you have even one brain cell in that empty head of yours, you'll leave me alone for the night. I don't want you, Caspian. I don't want to talk to you, meet you, or even spend a second with you. So please," I snap, "leave me alone."

With those parting words, I stomp up to my room. Tears threaten to fall, and I can't help but regret what I said. But that was the price of seclusion; sometimes, you had to push people away, even the ones who cared about you.