[Ace's POV]
The inn buzzed with raucous energy, the wooden floorboards vibrating with each burst of laughter. The air hung thick with the mingled scents of roasted meats, spiced alcohol, and the faint metallic tang of spilled ale. Somewhere in the corner, a bard had given up on his lute and was now using it as a makeshift drum, much to the delight of the drunker patrons.
I watched Ovelia and Ann from across the room, their heads bent together as they sampled various dishes, their laughter cutting through the general clamor. Earlier, Ovelia had cornered me with a forkful of that cursed forest rat pie, her eyes dancing with mischief as she'd practically shoved it into my mouth. I'd retaliated by grabbing the fork and shoving the next bite at Philip, who'd been too startled to refuse. To my eternal annoyance, the damned thing had actually tasted good—flaky crust, savory filling, a hint of wild herbs. Philip had demanded the recipe. I'd pretended I hadn't heard him.
