Lady Of Lake And Arrow |A Swan Lake Retelling|: Book One

Chapter 29

Missio - Twisted

There once lived the Muse of Dreams.

A goddess who sang what people desired most and danced through the cobblestone streets, unbeknownst to the eyes of the people.

No one knew her true name, for she was known differently by many.

Dream Singer. Daughter of Light. The Beautiful Unknown.

And of course, Muse of Dreams.

But over time, as wars were waged and blood was shed, dreams started to lose their hold on humanity. The faint laughter and music you could only hear if you were careful enough, faded.

It wasn't long before the Muse of Dreams was never to be heard of again.

- Muse of Dreams -

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The first thing Jessa did was finding an inn.

Most preferably an exceptionally calm one, where late night drunks and dusty furniture were the only things to be worried about.

Of course, she was smart enough not to stray too far away from the streets. She knew that the deeper she got into the city–farther away from the castle–the more chance of puny thieves or any such sort noticing her.

The one she did find was on top of a tavern, and there was nothing calm about taverns. But barely anyone paid any attention to her as she rode past by, the men and women sitting outside downing their fair share of drinks.

Jessa stopped by the stables next to the tavern and dismounted. The stable boy was asleep next to one of the stalls, and when she nudged him awake with the tip of her boot, he jolted upwards, throat bobbing at the sight of her.

It hadn't occurred to Jessa until now that she might've actually looked intimidating, what with her black cloak and all. She sighed, pushing back her hood and reaching into her satchel to take out a coin.

"One night," she said to the stable boy, throwing him the coin. Without waiting for him to reply, she got out of the stables, leaving her horse there.

Entering the tavern, Jessa instantly accessed the whole interior of the place. A lot of people here wore cloaks like her, but they looked more like rags, torn and covered in who-knew-what.

She rolled her shoulders back, putting on a composure she hoped looked nonchalant–to look as if she could care less about what was happening around her.

To blend in.

Ambling up to the counter, Jessa plastered on a lazy smile, a few coins in hand as she sat on one of the stools. "You the owner here?" She asked the bartender man behind the counter.

He grunted in answer. "Whaddya want?"

She leaned forward and set the didantes atop the table. Just as she'd hoped, the tavern owner's eyes were immediately drawn to it.

"A room for one, no more than a week."

The owner took up the coins, and after he finished counting them, he nodded in approval before reaching beneath the counter. He came up with a key in hand, tossing it to her. She snatched it from the air, then winked at him. "And perhaps some cider to add."

"Not much of an ale person, I see," the owner commented.

Jessa sucked on a tooth. "I'm not one for strong drinks."

Before the owner could say anything, there was a roar of laughter nearby from a group of men. Jessa cringed. She never liked being in crowded places.