“You’re new. Welcome. I must warn you, things aren’t always so lively here at the inn, but there’ll be no extra charge for the entertainment today. I hope dark ciders are to your liking. I surmised they’d suit you.” I set the ciders on the table. They both stared without speaking.

“I can assure you both, I’ve never crowned anyone with a mug. Yet.”

The trader’s eyes narrowed. “That’s reassuring.” He grabbed his mug and brought it to his lips, his dark eyes never leaving mine as he sipped. Rivers of heat spread through my chest. He set his mug down and smiled at last, a very pleasant satisfied smile that gave me much needed relief. “The cider is fine,” he said.

“Is that an Eislandese accent I detect? Vosê zsa tevou de mito loje?”

His hand bumped his mug and sloshed cider over the side. “No,” he answered firmly.

No, to what? It wasn’t an accent, or no, he hadn’t traveled far? But he seemed agitated by the question, so I didn’t press further.

I turned to the fisherman, who still hadn’t spoken. He had what I imagined could be a kind face if he could only manage a genuine smile, but instead a smug grin was pasted across it. He was set on scrutinizing me. I bristled. If he disapproved of my treatment of the soldier, he could be on his way right now. I’d grovel no more. It was his turn to speak—at least a thank-you for the cider.

He slowly leaned forward. “How did you know?”

His voice hit me like a hard slap to my back, forcing the air out of my lungs. I stared at him trying to get my bearings. The sound reverberated in my ears. It was hauntingly familiar, yet it was fresh too. I knew I’d never heard it before. But I had.

“Know?” I said breathlessly.

“That the cider would suit us?”

I tried to cover my muddled state with a quick answer. “It was Gwyneth, actually. Another server here. It’s a diversion of hers. She’s quite good at it most of the time. Besides guessing drinks, she guesses professions. She guessed you to be a fisherman and your friend to be a trader.”

I found my voice getting away from me, one word spilling onto the next. I took a slow deep breath, forcing myself to stop. The soldiers hadn’t turned me into a chattering ninny. How had these two managed it?

“Thank you for the cider, Miss…?” The trader paused, waiting.

“I answer to Lia,” I said. “And you would be?”

After some thought, he finally answered, “Kaden.”

I turned to the fisherman, waiting for his introduction. Instead, he simply rolled my name over his tongue like it was a piece of corn stuck between his teeth. “Lia. Hm.” He slowly rubbed a week’s worth of scruffy stubble on his cheek.

“Kaden and…?” I said, smiling between gritted teeth. I’d be polite if it killed me. I couldn’t afford any more scenes tonight with the customers, not with Berdi looking over my shoulder.

His cool gaze lifted to mine, his chin angling to the side in a challenge. Small lines fanned out from his eyes as he smiled. “Rafe,” he answered.

I tried to ignore the hot coal burning in my gut. His face may not have been kind when he smiled, but it was striking. I felt my temples flush hot, and I prayed he couldn’t see it in the dim light. It was an unusual name for these parts, but I liked its simplicity.

“What can I bring you tonight, Kaden and Rafe?” I rattled off Berdi’s fare, but instead they both asked me about the girl I intervened for.

“She seems young to be working here,” Kaden noted.

“Seventeen, same as me. But certainly more innocent in certain ways.”

“Oh?” Rafe replied, his short response filled with innuendo.

“Pauline has a tender heart,” I replied. “Whereas I’ve learned to harden mine against rude inquiries.”

He grinned. “Yes, I can see that.” In spite of his baiting, I found his grin disarming, and I forgot the response that had been on the tip of my tongue. I turned my attention back to Kaden, who I was relieved to find staring at his mug instead of me, as if in deep thought.

“I’d recommend the stew,” I offered. “It seems to be the favorite here.”

Kaden looked up and smiled warmly. “Then the stew it will be, Lia.”

“And I’ll go with the venison,” Rafe said. Little surprise. I’d look for the toughest cut for him. The chewing might wipe the smug grin from his face.

Gwyneth was suddenly at my elbow. “Berdi would like your help in the kitchen. Now. I’ll take care of these gents from here.”

Of course, we both knew the last thing that Berdi needed was my help cooking or chopping anything in the kitchen, but I nodded and left Rafe and Kaden to Gwyneth.

I was banished to the kitchen for the rest of the evening after a hushed but heated lecture from Berdi on the perils of getting on the authorities’ bad side. I argued valiantly on the side of justice and decency, but Berdi argued just as hard on the side of practicalities like survival. She carefully danced around the word princess, because Enzo was within earshot, but her meaning was clear—that here my status didn’t amount to a fat cow patty, and I had better learn to dampen my imperious fiery tongue.

For the rest of the evening, Berdi served meals, popping in to give me orders or season a fresh pot of stew, but mostly making sure the soldiers had second helpings—all on the house. I loathed the compromise she made and chopped viciously at my onion.