Black Roses

Chapter 5

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"Order up!" The plates kept on coming, one by one. The night was getting tedious, and it only had just begun. So far no one suspected her or called her a witch. But how could they? Zaria's hair was tied back in a messy bun, strands covered her face, and she had to keep blowing her fringe out of her eyes. She looked as if she had worked here at the inn her whole life. 

Instead of her usual attire, Zaria was asked to wear a dress. A genuine look of disgust came over her face when she was presented with the garment. It was a modest thing, with fabric dyed a deep vermilion shade of red. Though it may have seemed 'pretty', it was far from practical and in under no circumstances, was Zaria going to wear it. She ignored the old hag's insults and shouting and demanded that she stayed in her clothes. The woman, in need of a waitress, agreed with an exasperated sigh while throwing Zaria and apron and quickly left before Zaria could protest anymore. Both women were getting tired, and Zaria hadn't even started her shift yet. Zaria didn't want any trouble, but she had her limits.

Now in the provided apron, which was covered in stains and who knows what, she dashed from table to table, dishing out plates of food, cups filled to the brim with drinks and, unfortunately, greeting guests. The last one was her downfall; she felt queasy and partially annoyed whenever she had to say hello to a new face. She tried to be welcoming nonetheless. She kept on saying the words in her head. One night, just one night.

As the evening went on a huge uproar awoke Zaria from her bored expression. Cheers and raised hands clutching drinks filled the inn dining area. What was going on? She poked her head around a wall to her disdain; it was a boy. Older than her, not by much, tall, well built, with a head of brown curly locks and a bow and quiver of arrows, a hunter Zaria presumed. He wore a toothy grin and humbly accepted compliments and respectful nods from around the inn. Zaria rolled her eyes and went back to cleaning a table of used plates and cups. 

People fell in love and depended on these typical men instantly; they only had to look like heroes. To gain Zaria's trust you had to earn it, she wasn't the one who carelessly let people know every single thing about her and her secrets. No matter who you were, an old cripple, the queen or in this case, a hunter, Zaria believed trust was earned and once broken could never be gained again. Loyalty, another significant value.

To her dismay, the hunter sat in her serving space. Grumbling once again she walked over. She missed being the thing everyone feared. She would do anything to rush over to her garden in peace with Shade. She would serve them their last meal, if only she were in her garden. Through the open windows, she felt the chilly night breeze and exhaled as she heard the comforting caw of a crow, the one that probably followed her here and apparently everywhere. 

"Good evening, My name is Zaria, I'll be your waitress for tonight. What can I get you?" The standard greeting bore her to death. How many times did she have to say it? 

"I'll take the special and a cup of whisky, thanks." 

Ugh, when would it end? Scribbling down the order, Zaria hurried to the kitchen. One night, just one night. It was like a song in her head. Now with her hands bearing a tray, she stifled a yawn and put on her practised smile. 

"Here you are, the special and whisky. Would you like anything else, sir?" Zaria gracefully placed the cup and plate on the table, her cheeks were hurting from smiling. The hunter nodded a thank you signalling her to leave. Turning away, she massaged her cheeks, again the words went through her head. One night, just one night. Only a couple more hours, then she would be sent to her rooms with a warm plate of dinner, and breakfast would be awaiting her in the morning. She counted again, just be sure, and as usual, her answer was six.

She dared to glance back at the hunter now joyfully consuming his dinner. What was that shiny thing glinting in the light of the lamps? It was clasped around the hunter's wrist. A bangle? Silver and black and it was engraved with roses, much like Zaria's lethal blades and her pendant necklace. Did he know her? Zaria didn't recognise him at all. He may have been through town a couple of times, but other than that all Zaria knew was that he was a hunter, and even that was an assumption. 

When clearing his table, she found a note under the plate."Meet me behind inn, after shift." Zaria felt trouble stirring, although they was a possible chance that he knew something about her, something true about her, not fairytale nonsense. Tonight it was then. 

<<< So...What do you guys think of this hunter? Comment and vote pls! See you next week! >>>