The darkness weighed heavy on her, constricting her breathing. She was covered in sweat, and though it was not the first time she had awoken to these conditions, it nevertheless took a moment for her sleep-addled mind to remember she was not at home in her bed.
Selena reached into her pocket, cautiously feeling for the piece of glass. In less than a minute, the spell was cast anew, and she was invisible once more.
Selena sat up and gave a quiet groan, her free hand rubbing her lower back. She adjusted the pile of cabbages beneath her, telling herself she should be thankful to have discovered a horse-drawn cart loaded with summer crops so close to Castle Nelesti. The unwitting trader had provided her with transportation and nourishment for the past few days—a week?—but she was having difficulty appreciating her ignorant benefactor.
For one thing, her entire body was stiff. For another, one could only eat so many vegetables before the thought of cabbage, spinach, and broccoli was enough to make her sick to her stomach.
Aside from her lack of proper provisions, the only regret Selena allowed herself was the abandonment of her grandmother. She would miss Celeste and her father too, though his actions—or, rather, his inaction—on her last day at the castle still rankled her.
At dusk the wagon rolled into a town. Selena—unseen, thanks to her magic—jumped down from the cart before it had made a complete stop and ran for the nearest copse of trees. After purging her body of waste, squatting awkwardly all the while, Selena tidied herself as best she could and took a moment to examine the town.
It was the largest community she had seen throughout the journey, though not nearly as big as Mongalith.
Standing in the trees on the outskirts of town, Selena muttered three words in the Divine Tongue and watched her body materialize beneath her. She secured the spell book between the waistband of her pants and her lower back.
Although she had no money, the smells from a nearby inn beckoned. Entering the place held a measure of risk. She doubted anyone this far from Castle Nelesti would recognize her. She hoped not because the time for hiding was over. Selena approached the inn.
The common room of The Rusty Rake was roughly the size of her bedroom and about half-filled with people. The customers were mostly men. Their untidy apparel and sun-reddened skin suggested they had spent the day toiling outdoors. She stood rooted in the doorway for a moment, all too aware of the stares she received.
Not only was she one of the only females in the room, but she was probably the youngest person there. No one said a word to her as she stepped inside. Gradually, each man’s interest returned to his meal and drink.
This was Selena’s first time in a public house. She did not know whether to take a seat at one of the empty tables or to talk to a member of the staff first. There was a serving woman wending her way through the room, her hips a-swaying and her face cast into a permanent smile as she tended to the patrons.
Behind the bar, a small man filled flagons with a dark mead that sent streams of white foam sopping down onto the counter. Selena decided to bypass the serving woman, who was scuttling in every which direction to appease her customers, and approached the barkeeper instead.
The barman wiped away the spillage with a rag that looked to be as wet as the countertop. He never looked directly at her, but Selena knew he had seen her. When she reached the bar, squeezing into an empty space between two middle-aged men, he finally acknowledged by crossing his arms and looking up at her.
Although the barman was almost a full foot shorter than she, his shrewd gray eyes made Selena feel about the size of a pea.
“Pardon me, good sir,” she began, but she was forced to stop and clear her throat when her voice failed her. How long had it been since she had spoken to anyone? “Pardon me, but might I have a word with the proprietor of this establishment?”
The barman’s countenance did not alter in the slightest, though she heard snorts and snickers from the men nearby. Arms crossed tightly before his narrow chest, the barman wore an expression that might have rivaled even Godfrey Nelesti’s best negotiation face.
“Somethin’ I can help you with, missy?” he asked evenly. “Wonderin’ if your pa’s been ’ere today, hmm?”
Once Selena sorted out what the barman had said, she almost laughed out loud. As if her father would have ever stepped foot in a place like The Rusty Rake!
“No,” she replied. “I was hoping I might be able to do some work here in exchange for a meal and lodgings for the night.”
The little man grunted. “Already got Molly”—a nod in the direction of the serving woman—“an’ I won’t be needin’ more’n her at this time of the season.”
“Actually,” Selena said, “I thought perhaps I could be of service by tending to your books.” The barman did not seem to comprehend her meaning, so she added, “I have a way with figures, you see.”
The man sitting at her right guffawed. “Can’t think of many men who’d want to have their way with your figure. A beanpole’s got more curves’n you!”
“Ain’t got no use for whores,” the barman interjected with a deep frown. “The constable’ll either take my inn or my balls, and I ain’t wantin’ to lose either on account of some chippie.”
Selena was too stunned by the horrifying turn of the conversation to reply.
“Her hairs’re greasier than Mots’s beefsteak,” laughed the man on the other side of her. “An’ those’re just the ones we can see!”
This evoked a wave of guffaws from everyone at the bar. Selena’s face burned with embarrassment. Turning back to the barman, she said, “You misunderstand me. I have a knack for numbers. I thought I could examine your ledger.”
“To what end? Money goes out for food an’ supplies, and money comes in from those who’re eatin’ and sleepin’ here. Can’t get no simpler’n that. If you ain’t got no money, you ain’t got no reason to be here.”
The chortling of the customers irked her like few sounds ever had. But she would have endured more—not as much as they presumed, but more nonetheless—for even a meager scrap of meat. The heavenly smells wafting from the kitchen—Mots’s beefsteak?—made her want to stay and plead her case. However, the barman’s steely expression gave no ground.
Expelling a sigh for the stubborn-minded barmen of the world, Selena turned on her heels and stomped out of the place. She resisted the urge to slam the door behind her. Lingering outside The Rusty Rake, she pondered her next move.
The door opened behind her suddenly, startling her. She glanced back to see two men from the bar walking toward her. To her dismay, they did not pass her by, but instead came to stand directly before her.
The first man—the crude fellow who had had the audacity to critique the condition of her hair—smiled wide and held out his palm, displaying two copper coins that were smaller than any Selena had ever seen.
“My friend an’ I was thinkin’ we might be helpin’ you out. If you’re for helpin’ us of course.” The man’s obscene grin revealed a row of uneven, discolored teeth.
“I am not a prostitute,” Selena said.
“But you are hungry,” the second man said.
His cobweb of a beard had trapped crumbs and beer foam alike. Both of them stank of sweat and smoke. Their eyes were tinged with red, a trait Selena had seen often enough in her twin brothers after a night of merrymaking.
“We’ll be gentle,” the first one whispered. The eager gleam in his bloodshot eyes sent a chill down her spine.
“I would sooner eat my shoes!”
She turned to leave, but something clamped down on her arm. Without quite realizing what was happening, she found herself spinning back around to face them.
The bearded man pulled her closer, pinning her arms at her side, but it was the other man who spoke.
“You talk pretty for a beggar,” he said softly. “Let’s see what else that mouth of yours can do.”
Selena struggled to get away, but the man with the scraggly beard was of sturdier stock than she had expected. She felt the hard muscles of his arms and chest against her as she jerked wildly. But she might as well have been trying to kick down a hundred-year-old oak.
Escape was impossible.