The taste of roasted lamb and spiced vegetables still lingered on my tongue as we climbed the stairs back to our room. Below us, the common room's lively chatter had softened to a low murmur, the Carmine girl's dramatic outburst already fading into just another tavern story.
Zephyr closed the door behind us with a soft click, the sound sealing us away from prying ears.
The room was nothing fancy – just two beds, a washbasin, and a window looking out onto the city, which was already twinkling with streetlights. But it was private, and wonderfully warm. That was really all we needed.
I settled onto my bed, facing him directly, and reached inside my jacket. My fingers closed around a small storage pouch, which I then tossed his way.
Zephyr snagged it effortlessly, raising one eyebrow in question.
"Might be useful on your travels," I said.
He loosened the drawstring, peering inside. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he schooled it back into neutrality.
