Her heart raced, and her quick steps matched the beat. Confusion, surprise, and curiosity played on her face.

  When she woke up, a loud murmur from downstairs caught her attention. Initially, she ignored it, but the moment she heard a lute blending with Joaquin’s voice, she hurried out of her room.

  Joaquin strolled between the tables, singing and playing with a lively step. The inn was packed, and the young innkeeper hustled to serve everyone.

  I bet the inn has never been this full.

  Red’s laughter, a soft melody in the lively atmosphere, bubbled up as she scanned the bustling room for Dave.

  Energetic children weaved through the tables, their laughter and the clinking of glasses blending with the melody of a distant song. It took her a while to spot him amid the animated crowd, nestled at a far corner table.

  She navigated through the lively scene with nimble, cautious steps, ensuring not to disrupt the joyous chaos around her. Upon reaching him, the expected scene unfolded—he sat alone, an enigmatic silhouette, exhaling wisps of smoke that added an extra layer of mystery to his aura, a thug unwilling to be disturbed.

  “May I join you?”

  She bowed with a playful grace, lifting an imaginary skirt in a whimsical gesture.

  “I’m guarding you a spot,” he said.

  She settled beside him, getting an optimal view of both Joaquin’s performance and the entire ambiance.

  Did Dave pick this table on purpose? Was it to survey the area, or was he ensuring she’d see Joaquin’s performance?

  Don’t be too na?ve, Blanchette.

  But the question lingered - was she figuring him out? Their journey was more out of necessity than choice. Still, he seemed to evanesce his attitude. What if —

  “What can I bring you, ma’am?”

  The young innkeeper snapped her back to the present, breaking the threads of her thoughts that were weaving a mental noose around her neck. He was sweaty, and breathing fast, but his joyous tone was clear.

  “A pint of Hertz Beer. And something to eat. If there’s anything left,” she said.

  “Sure. Well, the meat’s sold out, ma’am. I’m sorry. There are some potatoes, or we can serve you an omelet with bread or—”

  “Omelet sounds wonderful.”

  “Alright. And for you, sir?”

  He glanced at her companion, veiled in gray smoke.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Alright. I’ll be right back with your order, ma’am.”

  Red nodded, her gaze fixated on the departing boy. Joaquin swayed in a dance, and a group of town kids joined in, their laughter harmonizing with the rhythm.

  “That lute looks brand new,” she said, her eyes avoiding Dave’s.

  He sighed, a plume of smoke escaping as he tipped his cigarette.

  “Hm, you’ve noticed. I’m shocked.”

  “It’s shocking that you actually bought it. I assumed it would fall on me to do so.”

  “Wait. Where do you get that idea from? Anyone could have bought it. My bet is on the innkeeper; it must have already filled his pockets nicely.”

  She turned her head towards him, raised eyebrows delivering an amused look.

  “Nice try.”

  He smirked, his fingers rubbing the tip of his nose.

  “Joaquin informed me you were exhausted and needed to rest,” he said, his voice abruptly adopting a cold, reproachful tone.

  She averted his gaze, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “We agreed,” he continued in a hushed voice, “that you should refrain from such actions.”

  “That kid was dying,” she hissed through her teeth, her eyes scanning the ground. “Should I have let him?”

  “You understand how dangerous it is, right?! We are in the kingdom of Lavinoir.”

  “So? He was heavily intoxicated. Herbs and medicine wouldn’t have saved him.”

  Her tone grew icier, irritated.

  “I had to do it.”

  She shot him a quick stare, wet eyes piercing and cheeks flushed, before turning her gaze back to the floor.

  He leaned closer. Goosebumps traced over her skin as his lips caressed her ear. His breath, a delicate dance on her cheek and neck, stirred her senses. Her heart throbbed as she took in a deep, hushed breath, the air pulsating with unspoken tension.

  “You did it because you wanted to. You know, the amulet is the only likely explanation we have so far. Magic is long gone. No one can wield it anymore. Damn, most folks have forgotten it ever existed. It is either the curse or you are special since only you still possess the ability to cast spells. Also, we know it takes a toll on you every time you do so. You are risking both our lives because we know almost nothing about its powers. Plus, we are currently in Lavinoir. You’re aware of what they did to those few last who could use magic, aren’t you? So, next time, if you don’t want to kill us both or burn alive at some square while people yell profanities, stop surrendering to your urges, witch.”

  As he leaned back, she turned around, and their eyes met. His stare was as harsh as ever. However, her eyes burned with flame, too. The disgust he put into the word witch hit her in the heart. Her palms were sweaty, and her pupils were wide.

  In moments like this, she was mad at him. He acted as if he owned her. He had no right to dictate who she could save. In the end, it’s his fault they are in this situation.

  No, it’s not.

  She let out a heavy sigh, and her shoulders fell. The tension in her muscles was slowly loosening up.

  Did she truly believe he had changed? Even a bit? How could he be so cold after so many years they’ve spent together? Would he let that kid die just to avoid risking his life?

  A few quiet moments later, when the innkeeper brought her beer and food, she was not mad anymore. She was disappointed.

  What Dave said was true. It’s a mystery why she was the only one left with magical abilities. It’s only a fragment of her former power, and every time she used it, it made her extremely exhausted. Still, it was a young, innocent life she saved today.

  Grandma would do the same.

  That’s how she raised her. However, Grandma also did things she hadn’t come to understand yet.

  Was it all her fault?

  No, she had already pondered this extensively. It’s no one’s fault. Everyone had acted the best they could that day. Everyone followed their own sense of right.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  It’s just how life works.

  The omelet was a symphony of flavors, the eggs perfectly seasoned and the aroma wafting through the air, complemented by the rich taste of the dark beer that helped her to calm her mind.

  Dave was silently watching her the whole time. He sensed the tension and the growing distance between them. And it was good that way. Despite this, he expected the gap to shrink again. It always did. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop it. Either way, he had to at least attempt.

  In dangerous situations, she was consistently reckless, valuing others’ lives above her own. He didn’t care for that kid, despite knowing she acted rightly. What he was turning a blind eye to was how deeply he cared about Red’s life. Even though he knew it could not be easily taken from her.

  ???

  The pungent scent of decaying flesh hung heavy all around, a noxious greeting at the very entrance of the cave. Yet Jalut met the assault on his senses with an unwavering composure. Such odors were old companions, their unpleasantness dulled by exposure to far more putrid reminders of mortality. His stoic demeanor silently acknowledged the gruesome tableau before him, affirming Anubis’ words.

  The two surviving thugs had not exaggerated a bit. The remnants of the unfortunate victims were meticulously stripped to the bone by the forest’s natural undertakers, while diligent worms continued their morbid work in the dim recesses.

  Surveying the aftermath, Jalut cataloged the evidence: thigh bones marked with traces from large, menacing teeth, broken in ways beyond any forest creature’s capability.

  Just as I thought.

  A small, weathered flask dangled from Jalut’s leather-clad waist belt. Its contents, a murky liquid with an earthy hue, disappeared in a single, determined gulp. His face contorted in a wince of discomfort, a vivid portrayal of the body’s stubborn resistance to adapt to certain remedies, no matter how often they are used.

  Bending over with a series of involuntary grunts, Jalut painstakingly retrieved a single bone. Inhaling deeply and intentionally, he pressed it against his face, as if attempting to imprint the noxious smell onto his very soul.

  Emerging from the cave, Jalut felt a sudden chill as the brisk morning air of the woods surrounded him, and cast a discerning gaze around. With a methodical rhythm, he inhaled deeply, taking in the surrounding scents that danced in the air, while the cool breeze invigorated his senses. A crooked smile gradually crept onto his lips as he ventured forth, choosing the westward path to look for other trails.

  It had been a considerable span since he last faced such a formidable opponent. Though this assignment posed challenges, they were manageable and not overwhelming. The thought of stepping back into his former role as a hunter from A Perfect Circle sent a surge of anticipation and excitement coursing through him.

  ???

  “Thank you, thank you.”

  Joaquin bowed as the animated crowd showered him with cheers and applause. Red, caught up in the jubilant atmosphere, joined in with enthusiastic claps. As the applause subsided, she turned her head, anticipating Dave’s reaction, only to discover he was no longer occupying the seat beside her.

  A swift survey of the room exposed him at a separate table, engaged in conversation with inebriated card players. After a while, he rose from his seat, and with each step exuding a sense of authority, he made his way back to her.

  His journey back drew the attention of many, with women at nearby tables casting curious stares his way. Some, their inhibitions loosened by the influence of wine coursing through their veins, made little to no effort to conceal their overtly suggestive desires.

  “A friend of yours?” she asked, her voice dancing with playful tones, yet beneath the surface, curiosity lingered, accompanied by a subtle undercurrent of jealousy, a sentiment neither of them fully noticed.

  “Drunks are the best source of information, don’t you think?” he remarked, easing into the seat beside her, a wisp of smoke curling from the cigarette now nestled between his lips.

  Intending to probe further into the conversation, she prepared herself to inquire but was interrupted by the enchanting sound of Joaquin’s voice.

  “Dear ladies and gentlemen. You are so kind to me. Thank you.”

  He hiccupped, his cheeks flushed in hues, mirroring the wine he had been invited to partake in several times already, and his eyes glistened with an intoxicating gloss.

  “Shall we have one last song to conclude the night? Any requests?”

  Amid the ambient clamor, a cacophony of well-known song titles and ballads erupted from the crowd until a singular shout rose above the rest.

  “How about something truly extraordinary, bard?”

  “Extraordinary?”

  Joaquin leaned on a bar table, his wavy black hair cascading like a mermaid’s. A few young women in the crowd gasped, their reactions followed by a ripple of giggles.

  “What do you have in mind, dear pal?” he asked, his attention focused on the man, the very one Dave had conversed with only moments ago.

  Red shot a look at Dave, her eyebrows raised inquisitively, yet he paid scant attention to the unfolding scene, his gaze distant as he savored his cigarette.

  “Yeah, extraordinary!”

  The inebriated man persisted.

  “A ballad, but a rare one. Not widely known.”

  He grunted, lifting his beer for a hearty swig.

  “I have a strong feeling, my friend, that you harbor something unique in your thoughts,” Joaquin said and stepped forward with a tentative stride, his fingers tuning the lute with care.

  “Aye. Once, I heard a song about a magic amulet. It connects the wearer’s life with another person.”

  “Interesting…”

  Joaquin’s voice dropped, and his gaze wandered, searching for someone in the room. Eventually, he returned his focus to the man.

  “Claddagh?” he asked.

  Red’s face froze. Every muscle in her body tensed, and Dave tapped his cigarette. She sensed the shift in his demeanor. He was now devoting all his attention to the bard’s words.

  He heard about it. Joaquin knows something about the amulet.

  Her heart raced, its beats echoing in the anticipation-laden air.

  “Dunno,” the drunk man mumbled. “I recall no names. Sing it, and I’ll tell you.”

  Joaquin lowered his gaze towards his lute.

  “It’s no simple melody, my friend. An obscure tune, not widely recognized. The very notion that you’ve encountered its echoes intrigues me. Given the volume of wine coursing through my veins, mistakes may find their way. But let me try.”

  He bit his upper lip, his fingers caressing the neck of the instrument with tender precision.

  “Here, a ballad of Claddagh. Better put, a lyrical tale woven with threads of love, despair, and hope. A sonic tapestry echoing ancient times and an illustrious king.”

  He played a few strings, each note a subtle command for silence. He cleared his throat, the reverberation cutting through the ambient murmurs.

  Red, clenching the edges of her cape with both hands, glanced at Dave. His focus remained unwavering on the bard, akin to a predator studying its prey, not a blink betraying his intent.

  As the initial notes echoed through the inn, a collective understanding permeated the air.

  In a realm of old, a tale untold,

  A king of might, with a heart of gold.

  His queen so fair, with eyes like stars,

  Yet destiny wove a tale with heavy scars.

  Joaquin walked between the tables, his steps deliberate and unhurried. The sound of his voice was like a symphony, each word flowing effortlessly and sweetly, like honey dripping from a spoon.

  In the castle high, where shadows danced,

  The queen lay frail, her life’s last chance.

  The king, he wept, with a heavy sigh,

  A love so true, he couldn’t let it die.

  Oh, the ancient king in sorrow’s embrace,

  For love poisoned, his heart couldn’t erase.

  Claddagh amulet, a desperate plea,

  To bind their souls for eternity.

  With each stroke of his fingers on the strings, a masterful and haunting melody was brought to life on his new lute. The sound of each note was filled with an unspoken sorrow, as if they too had borne witness to the story Joaquin was singing.

  Through moonlit nights and sunlit days,

  He toiled away in a mystical haze.

  A powerful charm, with gems so bright,

  To unite their souls, against death’s cruel might.

  But time, relentless, refused to yield,

  As the queen’s breath waned, her fate was sealed.

  In the dim-lit chamber, he held her close,

  The Claddagh unfinished, a bittersweet dose.

  As the music slowly slowed down, a serene atmosphere filled the room. The lute’s sound was delicate, its notes blending seamlessly with Joaquin’s calm voice in the last verse. Tears stained the faces of those in awe, their emotions palpable.

  In the annals of time, their story unfolds,

  A love unbroken, in memories it holds.

  The Claddagh amulet, an incomplete rhyme,

  Yet echoes through ages, transcending time.

  As the final notes cascaded, a weighty silence enveloped the room. A few, subdued by the spirits coursing through their veins, wept in quiet contemplation.

  Red and Dave shared an intense gaze, a silent exchange laden with unspoken questions. Her heart raced with a chaotic rhythm, echoing the lingering resonance of the song. Regardless of where or from whom Joaquin had learned the haunting melody, he held the key to guide them in the right direction.

  “I assume,” Joaquin said, breaking the heavy atmosphere, “that this is the song you desired to hear, my friend.”

  The drunk man shrugged his shoulders, unimpressed, eyelids heavy.

  “I guess,” he mumbled and returned to his card game.

  Joaquin offered a faint smile and bowed deeply. Expressing gratitude with a few words and sending air kisses to the audience, he bid his farewell. He staggered towards the stairs and his room, his unsteady gait reminiscent of a drunkard’s. Little did he know, Dave silently followed in his footsteps, with Red closely behind.