“Oh …” Tam replied, still watching Rez move about the room.

Rezkin strode to the window and balanced a long-handled dagger on the sill, the tip just barely settled into the groove between the frame and sill. “If someone raises the window, the dagger will fall.”

The young warrior removed his sword belt and propped Kingslayer against his bed. He tucked his belt dagger under his pillow and removed his boots. He did not want to disarm completely, nor did he wish to reveal his hidden weapons to Tam, who was still a stranger if also a friend. While he was supposed to protect and honor his friends, there did not seem to be anything in the Rules stating that his friends could not harm him. Even if there were, none of these outworlders regularly adhered to the Rules, anyway, so he would not trust them to do so in this.

Tam and Rezkin settled into their beds, and Rezkin snuffed the lantern.

Chapter 4

When the sun finally breached the horizon and the twilight stars faded from view, Rezkin decided he had waited long enough. He strode over to the well and hauled up a fresh bucket of cool water. He pulled off his sweat-soaked tunic and poured the refreshing liquid over his hot head. The water streamed down his sculpted torso dampening his pants and pooling around his bare feet. He shook his long, black tresses, squeezing out the dripping water. The wet strands hung loosely about his head, and several fell forward around his face. Grabbing his tunic, he strode to the back entrance of the inn. Roxie was standing on the stoop mesmerized.

Rezkin nodded as he passed by and said, “Good morning, Mistress Roxiella.”

With wide-eyed fascination, she reached out and gripped the tunic in his hand. “I can wash that for you, my lord.”

Rezkin glanced at her in confusion. My lord? It was not the first time someone had referred to him as such. He released his grip on the tunic and thanked her. When he returned to his room, Tam was having a serious conversation with Frisha. Both stopped speaking immediately and stared at him as if he had just turned into a pink dragon. Rezkin froze.

“What?” he asked hesitantly.

“Your muscles … shirt! I mean, ah, where’s your shirt?” asked Frisha stumbling over her words and blushing furiously. Even as he spoke, she could not take her eyes from the perfect lines of his exquisite form. She almost checked to see if she had drool running down her chin.

“Mistress Roxiella has it,” he said as he closed and barred the door and then sifted through the pile of laundered clothes that had been left on his bed.

“What!?” Frisha shouted. Her face went from pale disbelief to flushed fury in less than a breath. Rezkin furrowed his brow in confusion. He did not know why Frisha would suddenly become angry. Did she think Roxiella robbed him?