For the second time today, the piano music cuts off abruptly as soon as I swing open the doors to the World’s End pub. The sad old drunks around the room stare at me as though I’m the one who’s fallen through the barrier. Rowan opens his mouth, undoubtedly preparing to say something caustic.
And his mouth stays open as I tug the prisoner through the door behind me. The room is suddenly so quiet I can hear the hiss of snow that’s just begun to fall against the roof.
“I need help,” I say.
I reach into my bag, pull out a fistful of coins, and slap them onto the table where Rowan’s sitting with his damn chessboard. My cloak flaps open as I move, revealing the slice on my arm that I’ve just healed. It’s still red and angry, and my ruined Royal Guard cloak is stained with my blood.
The barkeep is the first to regain his senses. “What in the voids—” he says, in a hoarse voice that’s almost a whisper.
“Prisoner,” I reply. “From the Worlds Above.”
A few horrified gasps slither around the room. The woman scowls at everyone. Despite the rope wrapped around her wrists and the fact that I’ve taken her sword and dagger, she still looks rather terrifying.
“I’m taking her to the king,” I continue. “We need supplies. Food, water, and warmer cloaks. For both of us.”
I glance at the prisoner. She’s still shivering, despite the warmth of the little pub.
“And some hot tea,” I add.
No one moves. Rowan’s still watching us with his mouth wide open, and I’m not above relishing the tiny twist of pleasure I get from realizing I finally surprised him. But I also realize no one’s going to do a damn thing with a prisoner from the Worlds Above glaring at them like she wants to slice them open next.
“Do you happen to have a backroom?” I ask the barkeep.
He blinks like he didn’t quite understand the words that came out of my mouth. The fire hisses and spits behind me.
“Well, there’s the storeroom,” he finally responds, speaking slowly, as though he’s having to deeply consider each word that slips from between his lips.
“Wonderful,” I reply. I reach into my bag and pull out another fistful of gold coins. I lay these on the polished wooden bar. “We’ll take our tea in there.”
I tug the prisoner forward as the barkeep unlocks a little door in the far wall. His storeroom is scarcely more than a closet, and there’s barely enough room for the prisoner to sit down on an empty keg while I stand by the door and stare into the World’s End pub. Several of the people in the pub shuffle slowly toward the door and into the cold, all of them glancing at the pile of gold coins on the table as they leave.
“I can’t go to the Crystal City,” the woman says softly.
I turn to stare at her. She’s looking through the open door with a determined sort of frown.
“Oh, really?” I say.
She turns to look at the floor, then back to the doorway. She’s stopped shivering, but she must be soaking wet and miserable in that thin cloak.
“I have… something I’m doing here,” she says.
“Something you’re doing?” I reply. “Were you planning on murdering all the people in here?”
“What?”
Her head snaps up and our eyes meet. She scowls at me like I’ve just insulted her honor. I feel my own temper rising in response, burning hot inside my chest.
“You attacked me,” I say, gesturing at my blood-stained, ruined cloak and the bare, just-healed skin beneath. “With your sword. Remember?”
Her cheeks darken, and she turns away. I know I should stop, I should leave the interrogation to the king’s experts, but the words tumble out of my mouth before I can rein them in.
“What in the void’s name did you expect?” I say, struggling to keep my voice down to a harsh whisper. “If it had been anyone but me, if it had been one of those poor bastards out there—” I wave my hand at the door. “You would have killed them! Is that why you came down here? To kill us? To finish off what your kingdom started with the war?”
“I didn’t come down here,” she snaps. “I fell!”
I open my mouth to say that she’s lying, that no one has crossed the barrier since the dragon Rensivar trapped us down here, and someone clears his throat just behind me.
“Your tea,” the barkeep says.
I turn. The barkeep is standing in the doorway behind me with two steaming mugs in his hands and a look on his face that suggests he’s already quite invested in this conversation.
“Thank you,” I reply.
I take the mugs and set one down beside the woman. The prisoner.
“And the rest of the supplies?” I ask.
“Coming soon, I believe,” the barkeep responds.
I nod and wait for him to leave. It takes a very long time for him to get the hint; this might be the single most exciting thing that’s ever happened in the World’s End pub. But he finally retreats as the pub’s front door swings open, and I turn back to the prisoner. Both of her hands are wrapped around her mug, and she’s staring at the dark liquid inside like she thinks it might bite.
“I think this is spiked,” she whispers.
I shrug. “If I had to live out here, I’d probably spike everything too,” I reply.
She laughs. It’s sharp and sudden, and it makes her cheeks flush. I’m very inappropriately reminded of how it had felt to have her between my legs.
I turn away and try to focus entirely on what’s happening outside the storeroom. After what feels like a voids-damned eternity, the residents of the World’s End manage to scrape together two functional cloaks and a stack of survival biscuits that will keep us alive until we reach the Inner Ring. I decide to leave all my gold with them in return. It’s too heavy to carry with us, and it’s basically useless out here anyway. Lythienne’s words drift through my mind. What are we going to do when we can’t grow enough food?
I shiver as I shoulder my pack and try to shove down that particular depressing thought. Then I turn to the prisoner. Her dark eyes peer out from beneath the folds of the warmer cloak I’ve just fastened around her shoulders. They linger on the hilt of her sword, which I’ve strapped around my own waist, and then drift to the rope still tied around her wrists.
“You ready?” I ask.
She lifts an eyebrow. “If I say I’m not?”
I shouldn’t smile. I really should not smile at the woman who just tried to kill me.
“Let’s go,” I say, tugging on the rope.
I push the door of the World’s End pub wide open and pull my hood tight, hiding my smile.