Torin's POV
The tavern was loud, messy, and chaotic.
Men were shouting over full mugs of stale ale, women were laughing loudly near the back tables, and a group of musicians in the corner was plucking away at a fast, upbeat song on their wooden lutes.
I sat all by myself at a small wooden table tucked into a dim corner of the hall. A wooden cup sat in front of my hands, the surface of the dark liquor swirling every time someone stomped their feet on the floorboards nearby. I had been sitting in this exact spot, drinking silently, for a long time.
A soft hand with long, painted fingernails suddenly touched my shoulder.
"Why are you feeling so down, handsome?" a woman purred into my ear, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she leaned over my chair.
"You want a night to forget your worries?"
I did not turn my head to look at her. I just stared straight down into my dark drink.
