The inn took them longer than fifteen minutes to reach. Nomi would have expressed her anger, except that Malachi’s grumbles and glares did the job nicely and her jaw had clenched itself so tightly her head ached.

“We’ll have to share a room, pretend to be married,” Malachi muttered, staring up at the inn’s bright red door. “It wouldn’t be safe otherwise.”

Nomi might have felt nervous at the prospect, if he didn’t look so vastly irritated about it himself.

Malachi left her just inside the door in the warmth of the barroom while he went to speak to the proprietor. Only a couple of men frequented the small smoky room, and they turned immediately to stare at her. This wasn’t the sort of place where women were welcome; that was clear enough.

“… don’t go out, now that it’s dark,” a short, balding man said, crossing the room with Malachi in tow. He noticed Nomi by the door and frowned.

He handed Malachi a key and gestured toward the stairs. “Up one floor, second door on your left. Come on down when you’re ready and I’ll have dinner for you. Might want to bring something upstairs for the wife. As I said, keep her out of sight.”

Nomi played her part and followed Malachi upstairs, her head tipped demurely. But unease wound through her. It was true that unmarried daughters in the company of their families often ate out of sight when traveling—when she had traveled to Bellaqua on the train with Renzo and Serina, they’d eaten together in their sleep carriage and hotel room, never in the public restaurants—but a married woman? Married women always ate with their husbands. It was their duty to serve their husbands, even in public. Especially in public.

She waited until they were inside the bedroom, door closed, before she voiced her concern. “What was the innkeeper saying? Why am I supposed to stay out of sight?”

Malachi frowned. “He said the soldiers have been taking girls, but I’m not sure what he meant.… It was very strange. I’ll see if I can find out more.”

“Oh no,” Nomi said, straightening her travel-mussed hair. “I’m coming with you. We will eat supper together like a proper husband and wife. I want to know what’s going on.”

Malachi clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “I don’t know, Nomi. The proprietor seemed concerned for your safety. If it’s dangerous—”

She grabbed his arm and steered him to the door. “How could it be dangerous? It’s just supper. Let’s go.”