The bard's song swelled outside her sanctuary—thick and cloying, like the start of a hangover.
Lina pressed her fingers to her temples.
"Goddess, I'm exhausted," she muttered to the empty room.
The door cracked open, and Galdreth—the stable hand—slipped inside. The bard's melody pressed at her thoughts, warm and insistent, urging her to join in. A dreamy warmth filled her chest, as if the music itself was nudging at her emotions.
Lina laughed, 'Must be the bard's magic.'
"Fin asked me to carry a keg of ale for you," Galdreth said, shuffling his feet.
"Over here," Lina gestured to one of five kegs.
Fin had said he wouldn't sell any more to the soldiers—but when else would he make this much in a night?
Galdreth cleared his throat. "Lina."
"Yes?" Lina asked, combing a hand through her long brown hair to rebraid it.
His warm brown eyes lingered. Color rose in his cheeks as he grabbed the keg and rushed out. Though five summers older than her, they'd never had a real conversation.
She retied her apron and took a steady breath. It was almost time to face the evening ahead. The bard's magic still lingered, making her imagine a voice that wasn't there.
'You're still here.'
Lina cursed. 'Did you ever leave?'
The man chuckled, 'Galdreth, was it? I almost feel sorry for him.'
'Who are you? Where are you? Are you in the tavern?'
'The only question I need answered is how to close this connection.'
Lina hesitated, a sliver of curiosity breaking through her wariness. She thought of the bard's song—the way it pressed against her thoughts. Could it be connected? The idea felt ridiculous.
Lina pinched her eyes closed and took another deep breath.
'I'm Lina, in Stonecross.'
'Yes. Lina. Barmaid at the Golden Goose.'
Lina let out a puff of air and hedged, 'And you are?'
The man pressed, 'Who connected us—and why? Are you something other than a barmaid?'
Laughter erupted from Lina's chest. She wiped at her eyes and walked over to the basin of water in the corner to wash her face. Maybe if she dumped a jug of water on her head, she'd wake from this nightmare.
She asked in her mind, 'Where are you? Why can you hear me?'
He admitted, 'This isn't a magic I recognize.'
Lina lifted both of her hands in the air in triumph as she gazed into the basin.
'An answer, was that so difficult?'
Dark circles formed beneath her stormy eyes. Freckles speckled her nose from working in the herb garden. She touched her sunken cheeks and let her mind drift back to the day she'd arrived in Stonecross, boots caked in river mud, a single satchel slung over her shoulder. The journey from her home village had been long, filled with hurried steps along twisting roads. Lina had clung tightly to a letter from her mother, now worn at the edges, that promised she would join Lina soon—though she never did.
Lina offered, 'I could go to the market tomorrow and see if the town rune mage knows what would do this.'
'If I don't know, your local town mage won't.'
'Awfully arrogant for someone without a solution.'
'You talk too much.'
'You're remarkably calm for someone hearing voices.'
'Only one,' he drawled.
'For now,' Lina muttered.
He laughed. The sound was abrupt and light.
'You don't sound like someone who speaks to people often.'
Silence settled between them.
'I speak when necessary.'
Suddenly, reality intruded: "Lina, I'm sorry, but we're being overwhelmed," Fin shouted through the door.
"Coming!"
Lina pushed through the doors and slipped between soldiers.
Fin dropped a bowl of stew beside her. When a soldier reached for it, he swatted the man's hand away.
"Eat, Lina. I can't have you passing out on me. The bard finished up a bit ago, so everyone's looking for food to soak up the alcohol."
She wrapped her hands around the stew and took a grateful sip.
A soldier slammed down his mug on the counter and demanded, "Ale."
"Water," Fin replied and poured water into the man's cup.
The man shook his head.
"Water, or you'll be sleeping in the stables."
Lina polished off her stew and watched Fin. She assessed the room. Two men were lifting a third off a broken stool.
She stifled a laugh behind her hand. Fin was passive on a good day—until you cost him money. Then you'd meet a man scarier than an enemy necromancer. In recent weeks, Stonecross buzzed with rumors—livestock vanishing, doors marked with strange symbols, soldiers lowering their voices at the mention of the necromancer.
Fin tossed a towel over his shoulder and supervised the three men as they tried to repair the stool. They started arguing over who would pay for the chair.
Another ale cup slid towards her, and she grabbed the water carafe and filled it. The man growled.
"Fin pays me, not you. Fin says water—so it's water or the stables," she grinned.
The man watched Fin glaring at the impromptu demolition crew and took his water without complaints.
'Why is it so loud?'
'I'm supposed to answer your questions, but you won't answer mine?'
'Yes.'
Lina rolled her eyes.
'There was a fight.'
'Are you safe?'
Lina stilled.
Her heart skipped. When was the last time anyone had asked if she was safe? She closed her eyes, remembering her mother's hand in her hair as a child.
'Yes. Are you a soldier?' She asked and frowned at the men so deep in their cups they'd lost their sense of self.
A crowd gathered around Fin, trying to appease him. At least they wouldn't have two nights like this.
'Fine, can you at least tell me if you're near the border?'
'I'm not far.'
A shiver trailed across Lina's shoulders. Heat flushed her cheeks. She picked up a cloth and wiped down tables.
A soldier plucked the cloth and wiped down the table. Another started uprighting the chairs. A third took the crates back to the storeroom before a group joined him to collect potatoes.
Fin oversaw his temporary employees, arms crossed.
Lina burst into laughter, wheezing as she tried to catch her breath.
Only Fin could snap his fingers and turn an unruly room into a room full of volunteers.
A soldier—bushy-beard who'd groped her—pulled out a chair for her to sit on and kept a respectful distance. She sat and watched chaos organize itself.
She laughed so hard her shoulders shook, tears streaming down her face.
'You do that often?'
'What?'
Silence met her question.
'Do you laugh often? It's... loud.'
'If there's a reason to.'
'Even with the war?'
Lina shrugged.
'The war's been going on for years. Kings don't last long enough to matter. It's easy to pretend something isn't happening when you aren't impacted.'
'Haven't you lost family to the war?'
'My brother died in the famine. My father drank himself to death.'
'And your mother?'
'She sent me to Stonecross but never followed.'
Lina leaned on her elbow and rested her jaw in her hand, lost in memories.
'Look at me sitting here opening up to a disembodied voice inside my head.'
'Aren't you worried about the consequences of spilling your heart to a stranger?'
'I don't think I'm afraid of you.'
'You would be.'
The room emptied. Fin bid Lina a good night before turning in.
'Finally, all the soldiers have gone to bed,' Lina yawned.
'Soldiers?'
'Yes, that's why the evening was so eventful.'
'Interesting. So many soldiers in Stonecross.'
'The newest king's attempt to catch the necromancer unawares.'
Exhaustion replaced the day's laughter as Lina made her way up the creaky staircase to the attic. She lit a single candle and untied her hair. The stranger was silent but undeniably present. He claimed she spoke too much, but waited for her voice. She climbed into bed and blew out the candle. Another question surfaced.
'Are you alone?'
He didn't answer.
The silence stretched long enough that she drifted on the edge of sleep.
'Yes.'