Thalion and Ylva had relocated to a different location—a small, rundown boarding house on the eastern edge of the adventurer's district. The rooms were cheaper here, the walls thinner, and the smell of old cabbage and cheaper ale clung to everything. But it was safe. Or at least, safer than the Feather's Rest.
Ylva had paid for a single room on the second floor, one with a window that overlooked the back alley and a door that locked from the inside. Thalion sat on the edge of the narrow bed, his silver hair still damp from the bath, the blue robe pulled tight around his thin shoulders. His hands had stopped trembling, but his eyes still darted to the window every few seconds.
Ylva stood by the door, her arms crossed, her ears swiveling at every distant sound.
"They're not chasing us," she said finally, her voice flat. "No one followed."
Thalion nodded slowly. "You're sure?"
