Marai continued to walk towards the far end of the kitchen.
“Get out if you value your lives,” she said to the cooks and a young barmaid.
The three hunters slid into the kitchen and the staff froze, glancing between Marai and the large men. The cooks exited out through the back door into the street.
Marai unsheathed Dimtoir.
The men attacked. Marai dodged, blade meeting blade. She cut down the first bounty hunter in two strokes. The second was more skilled, and the third joined in. Marai fought both at the same time, dodging and parrying. She rolled across the prep table, granting space between her and the attackers. She grabbed a metal pan from the hot stove and slammed it into the face of the largest hunter. He screamed as the metal branded his skin and knocked out a tooth. Noodles and vegetables flew in the air and onto the floor.
The other man swung. Marai crouched down, avoiding the blade. She sliced the man across the gut. Warm blood burst forth from the wound, splashing Marai in red. The man fell, and the burned hunter charged again. An angry red welt appeared on his cheek as he furiously stabbed. Marai’s fingers latched onto a butcher’s cleaver.
She swung both blades, one after the other. The burned man continued to block with his sword. She backed him towards the door. With a mighty swing of Dimtoir, Marai sliced the man across the chest. He fell backwards through the paper sliding door, bursting onto the tavern floor. People screamed and moved aside as the hunter collapsed.
Marai plunged the cleaver into the man’s heart. More blood splattered. The hunter’s body went limp.
Patrons and staff fled from the tavern in a stampede of screams. The only one left was the bard standing on the stage. Marai’s suddenly trembling fingers pushed back her unruly braid as she took in the sight of him.
His chestnut hair was longer; it now fell below his ears. He’d shaved recently. He was clean and tidy, a surprise considering he was on the run. His clothes were new, all leather and soft linen. He certainly appeared the part of a successful bard up on that stage. He had no noticeable injuries.
Marai’s eyes stung at the sight of him.
“What are you doing here?” Ruenen asked, voice gruff. A new lute was slung over his shoulder, much nicer than the old one, with its glossy wood. Where had he found the money to buy all these nice new things? He wiped away the emotion on his face by narrowing his eyes and folding arms across his chest, as if she were the last person he wanted to see. “I could’ve handled them on my own. I saw them enter.”
“I came to find you.” She could barely speak. The sound of his voice was such a comfort and a heartbreak.
“A little late, don’t you think?” he asked, hopping off the stage, making his way to the door. He glanced down at the body of the dead hunter, butcher cleaver lodged in his flesh, and grimaced. “You certainly do enjoy making an entrance.”
Marai was covered in blood. She wiped away the wet specks on her cheek. “I didn’t know. I thought you were dead.”
Ruenen walked right past her, not glancing her way, as he exited out into the street. Marai charged after him. Some of the tavern patrons stood around, speaking hurriedly with each other. They blanched as Marai fought her way after Ruenen. Kaishiki soldiers would arrive soon. It was hazardous for her to linger in the city.
“If I had known you’d escaped, I would’ve come sooner.”
“Really? Didn’t seem like you cared what happened to me,” Ruenen snapped over his shoulder. He quickened his pace and dodged passersby in the crowded streets.
“Ruen, wait!”
He ignored her. Marai called to him again, but he walked faster, body stiff. She kept him in sight as they weaved through Kaishiki, past markets, stalls, and a knife-juggler performing in the street.
Once out on the road, Marai raced to join him. Travelers caught sight of Marai’s ominous appearance and moved to the opposite side, their loud whispers akin to hisses.
“Are you going to ignore me forever?” she asked, catching up.
Ruenen stomped onwards, heading north towards the kingdom of Varana.
Marai scowled. If he’s going to ignore me, brooding in silence, I’ll pull a page from his own book. She’d challenge him.
“Interesting song you wrote about me. I think I prefer ‘the Lady Butcher’ more, strangely enough. And the Prince of Bards? Better than Ard, but you’re not being subtle.”
“Leave me be. I’m not playing this game, Marai.”
“Then look at me, and let’s talk about this.”
Ruenen cut into the forest. Marai followed as he stomped over downed sassafras trees. He found a suitable location far enough away from the road, and whirled around. The golden flecks in his eyes blazed.
“You left me.”
Taken aback by his glare and injured tone, Marai stopped walking and dropped her challenge. She pushed back her hood, and let him see the apology on her face.
“I never intended to—”
“You left me to fend for myself.”
“You have no idea how much I regret—”
“I don’t want to see you right now.”
“I understand, but please—”
Ruenen stepped closer; his movements sharp and rigid. “You ran away, leaving me to wonder what I’d done wrong. Leaving me to wonder what the hell happened to you. I was scared, Marai, for myself. For you. For the fear I saw in your face that day. For causing it.” Ruenen ran a hand claw-like through his hair. “But more than that, I was embarrassed. And hurt.”
The words shot through Marai like a spear. I deserve his resentment. She stared at her feet, unable to stand looking into his face. “I know. I didn’t mean to run away. I didn’t want—”
“Did I misread something? I mean, you kissed me back . . . did you not want to?”
Marai peered up at him. Ruenen was stricken, eyes wide in horror. She realized then what upset him the most . . . it wasn’t abandoning him to the hunters.
She shook her head. “No, Ruen, you didn’t misread anything. I . . .” Her cheeks were on fire. Marai had never been skilled with words. She’d never properly expressed her feelings to another person before. This moment, saying this apology, was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. “I wanted to kiss you. That . . . that was real. One second, I was in your arms and I wanted it more than anything, and then . . . my mind went somewhere else.”
