Heir of Thunder (Stormbourne Chronicles Book 1) by Karissa Laurel Read Free Book Online Page B

extremely
good, or they were tremendously hungry…or both.
    The serving woman returned, bearing a steaming bowl and a
plate laden with thick slices of brown bread. My stomach growled again, and she
chuckled. “Just as I thought. Eat every bite and you’ll find yourself in better
cheer.” After setting a mug of cider in front of my bowl, she lowered her voice.
“You’re not traveling alone, I hope.”
    “No, ma’am. My... brother will be here soon.”
    “Ah, good then. Will you be needing a room, too, or only the
meal?”
    “Yes, rooms and stabling.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, clucking her tongue. “We don’t
have a place for horses here, but I can point you in the right direction. There’s
a hostler at the edge of town who’s got a livery yard. Tell him I sent you and
he’ll give you a fair rate.”
    “Thank you,” I muttered through a mouthful of bread, too
hungry to care about etiquette.
    “I’ll pop upstairs and get your room ready. When you’re done
eating, tell my husband John over there,”—she pointed at the man in the corner
who stopped sweeping long enough to nod at me— “and he’ll help you bring up
your things.”
    “Oh, um, could we have two rooms?” I asked. “A separate one,
for my brother?”
    Her cheery countenance dimmed. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid we’ve
only the one room left. It’s got a nice couch, though. I’m sure your brother
will be comfortable on it. I’ll make sure you have plenty of blankets. If you
need anything else, call for me. I am the Missus Hale, but you shall call me
Moira.”
    I glanced at my diminishing bowl of stew. “Alright, Moira,
thank you.”
    After scraping my plate clean and dabbing up every last
crumb with a damp fingertip, I went in search of John, who had disappeared from
the dining room. Nothing appealed to me more than curling up in a ball and going
to sleep, but Nonnie needed my attention first. John was sweeping the front
porch when I found him, and he gave me directions to the boarding stables but
took Nonnie’s saddlebags from me first. Once I saw to her needs, I trudged back
to the inn. A full belly and lack of sleep turned my bones to lead. Have I
ever felt this tired before in all my life? No. Definitely not .
    Moira gave me a plain, but clean room and left a bundle of
linens for the sofa. I bounced on the edge of the bed, testing its comfort, and
peered out the window at the sinking sun. Without hunger or other errands to
distract me, the worry for Gideon’s protracted absence pressed on me. I found
myself pacing the room, rather than falling into the bed.
    A full ewer, a basin, and a small cake of soap in a dish
rested on a short washstand by the bed. The soap smelled harsh and astringent,
but it cleaned my face and hands and left a mild tingle on my skin. A mirror
hanging on the wall over the basin reflected the frightfulness of my hair,
straggling from a braid strewn with dirt and twigs. My thoughts had been too
consumed with escape and survival to worry about grooming.
    I untied Gerda’s ribbon and shook my head to loosen the
plait. In my rush to leave Fallstaff, I had neglected to pack a comb or brush, I
smooth the dark strands as best I could and remove bits and pieces of trash.
Without Gerda’s expertise, any attempt to fix my hair would have been pitiful,
anyway.
    My thoughts lingered on my beloved nursemaid. I missed her
and wondered if she, Stephen, and their children had managed to escape. Her
husband had family in Mann, the next village closest to Glennich. Had they gone
there to seek refuge? Wherever they went, I hoped they had made their way to
safety.
    After all my fussing, Gideon still hadn’t arrived and my gut
cramped from prolonged fretting, probably also because of how fast I had eaten
dinner. Something had gone wrong—I was certain of it. Should I wait out the
night and start for Braddock in the morning on my own, or go back and search
for Gideon now?
    The answer was obvious. With swift feet, and a