The Stableboy's shadow (BL)

Chapter 16

In the morning, they set out on the road again. A light rain had fallen during the night, leaving the grass beneath their boots cold and wet. With just over an hour's walk to the next village, they decided to break their fast there. A warm meal would do them good before the long journey ahead—there wouldn't be another village for a few days.

When they arrived at the inn, they settled at the edge of a long table near the back. There were more people than Riley had expected, given the hour. But then again, maybe everyone had thought the same thing: a cold, wet morning demanded hot coffee if the day was going to stand a chance.

Percevin hadn't said much since they left. On the journey, he had mumbled a few things under his breath as his arms seemed uncommonly heavy, his eyes half closed. As soon as they sat down, he rested his head on his clasped hands and let out a dramatic sigh. Riley chuckled under his breath.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

"Mornings like this are meant to sleep in, inside, where it's warm," Percevin mumbled without lifting his head.

"That's why we stopped here," Riley replied with a laugh. "But you'll have to get used to it. Winter is coming, and the further North we go, the worse it'll get.

The waitress approached, a stocky woman in a faded green apron, her hair tied back in a scarf that matched her sleeves. She had the kind of tired smile that meant she'd already been on her feet for hours.

"What can I get'cha ?" she asked, her maternal voice laced with kindness.

"We'll both have two eggs, bread and sausages, bacon if you have some. And the strongest coffee you've got."

At that, Percevin lifted his head, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise. Riley knew what this was about.

"What?" Riley said, catching the look. "We won't be getting another good meal for a few days, might as well dig in."

Percevin rolled his eyes and went back to dozing. From his seat, Riley could see the slow bustle of folks beginning their day, and after a few minutes, the waitress returned with two mugs and a large steaming pitcher. The aroma of fresh coffee reached them before she did. As she placed the mugs on the table, Percevin jumped upright, startling both Riley and the waitress, who exchanged an amused glance as she poured their drinks.

"Do you have any syrup or sugar?" Percevin asked.

"Sure, darlin'," the woman said with a grin that spoke more to children than grown men.

She pulled a glass flask from her belt and set it on the table. Riley winced. He watched, mildly horrified, as Percevin nodded his thanks, uncorked the flask, and poured what Riley considered an obscene amount of the cream-like syrup into his mug. The near-black coffee turned a revolting shade of light brown.

"You can drop the face," Percevin said flatly, without looking up. "Don't judge it if you haven't tried it."

"Even the lady judged you," Riley muttered. "You're a grown man. No adult takes coffee like that."

"It's good with sugar. Try it if you don't believe me."

Riley, who had spent his life among older thieves and rogues—none of whom ever dared ruin coffee with anything but a splash of brandy—gritted his teeth. The challenge in Percevin's eyes was unmistakable. Riley never backed down from a dare. Even one as stupid as this.

He slid his mug across the table.

Percevin poured syrup into Riley's drink with a wicked gleam. When the acceptable limit—which should've been none—was surpassed, Riley snatched the mug back with a sharp glare.