Davos lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was the second real bed he'd been on today, and even more comfortable than the first. Laughter and raised voices drifted into his room from downstairs, but not so loudly as to distract or annoy him. The thick, rich lumber used to build this inn blunted most of the noise. The muffled tones of a bard who'd already earned more than his night's supper kept the remaining noise pleasant enough.
Only two nights from an attack that would have razed their city,
he thought,
and they are in high spirits once again. It must be nice to be rich.
He let out a sigh. That was unfair. Though the patrons of the inn were clearly of wealthier means than most in the city--Edward had insisted that Davos stay at the finest inn Loewen had to offer--Davos could not know how much these people had lost in the siege. Perhaps they had all lost friends and loved ones, and the high spirits served to push back the darkness of grief and fear. Perhaps this was just how Loewen dealt with tragedy, and he'd find the same attitudes in the less elegant inns if he cared to go out and compare.
Regardless, he didn't get up off the soft bed. He just looked up at the ceiling.
Four years at sea. Terrifying storms, tedious days, the same old food night after night, laughable pay and muscles sore from simply holding himself upright as the ship rose and crash in the waves. Davos could count the number of nights he'd slept in a bed on land over the course any given year on his fingers and toes. He'd fought pirates, rival crews, goblins on distant isles and even a genuine sea monster or two. It wasn't all bad; there was much to love about the life despite all its hardships. Davos saw more of the world than most people ever dreamed of, he learned valuable skills and had plenty of wild stories to tell.
He didn't feel like telling any stories tonight. The inn was abuzz about his presence. Patrons had argued over who got to buy him dinner, and drinks, and whom he might sit beside. Women cast him come-hither glances--wealthy women wearing wedding rings among them, as well as their unwed daughters--with a frequency he'd never found before. People told him how he had saved their businesses. Their friends. The temples.
Davos could get to like that sort of reception, but just now he couldn't handle being in such a crowd. He excused himself politely, citing a soreness of his injuries that he did not actually feel, and headed upstairs.
The room was his for the next several nights. Unsure as to when the king and queen would see Davos--a thought that the young man still couldn't process--Edward wanted to ensure that Davos wouldn't have to worry about finding a place to stay while he waited. Meals were covered, and indeed several people seemed inclined to pay even further forward for them.
Until today, his belongings consisted of his cutlass, the clothes he wore and the old rags in his small sea chest on the
Dolphin.
When he was conscripted, there were a handful of silvers in his pockets and a few handfuls more in his chest. Now he had a new coinpurse filled with gold, also courtesy of the king's steward. It didn't make him a rich man, but it was far more than he'd made in all four years as a sailor put together--and that with comfortable lodgings, new clothes and meals paid forward for some time, and random strangers happy to buy him drinks.
He could get used to this sort of living quickly, and that was what scared him. Once it passed, as all things did, would he miss it? Would he be bitter? Would that thought prevent him from enjoying it while it lasted?
The knock at his door drew him from his thoughts. He rose from the bed and walked to the door on bare feet, still dressed in his new loose white shirt and breeches, though his belt hung from a chair across the room. Anyone calling on him at this hour shouldn't expect a man to be fully dressed, should they?
The lovely woman at the door had caught his eye many times that night. She had a decade and more on him, to be sure. She must have been a wicked beauty as a young woman. Time had softened her features without diminishing them in any way. Her light blue eyes and white-blonde locks complimented a smile that was equally gentle and confident. "Forgive me if I'm disturbing you, sir," said the tavern maid, "but my shift is over for the night, and I thought to check on the room and see if you wanted anything before it got too late."
Her tones and her smile charmed him immediately. She didn't come off as a humble maid. He liked that. "No, everything's fine, thank you," Davos replied. "Everything here is... lovely," he said, his eyes taking in the shape of her. From the glimmer in her eye, she caught the double-meaning in his answer. He hadn't even intended one, but he didn't mind the reaction at all. The thought occurred to him that it might be good to let the innkeeper know that he'd been well-attended; it never hurt to compliment someone's staff. "What's your name, again?"
"Juliana, sir," she replied, nodding a bit rather than bowing. Her eyes never left his.
"I would ask you not to call me 'sir,' though," he smiled back. "I'm a working sort, not that I'm offended or anything. I just don't want to go putting on airs. Call me Davos."
"Mm, afraid the gentry won't like it if you forget your place?" she teased.
"It's less about what they think and more about respect for my peers."
Juliana chuckled. "Well, as a fellow working sort, then, I'll gladly embrace your humble nature, Davos... though you'll forgive me if I slip and call you 'sir' when in the presence of our loftier guests. I wouldn't want them to think of you as part of the common rabble."
"That's considerate of you, thank you," he replied.
"I'd have thought a young man like yourself would stay up later in the taverns. Have you not found the crowd to your liking?" Juliana asked.
Davos shrugged and gestured for her to come inside, as the conversation didn't seem to be drawing to a close. He certainly didn't mind... but as Juliana walked past, treating him to the scent of her perfume and another sight of her figure, Davos wondered when he'd picked up such good manners. He knew instinctively that he should invite her in, that talking in the doorway for more than a moment was rude... but it wasn't as if he'd been trained in the local etiquette.
He also wondered what sort of tavern maid could afford perfume. Then again, this was the nicest tavern in the city, and Juliana had great charm. She probably did quite well on tips alone.
"After everything that's happened to me in the last few days, I feel like I could stand to avoid crowds and adjust a little more quietly," he admitted. "Everyone else has had two days to let things settle. I apparently slept right through that time. I'm not quite up for a big party yet." He paused. "I don't mind the current company, though."
Juliana took the compliment for what it was. "I can understand the need for quieter surroundings, then," she nodded, "though I don't want to intrude."
"Oh, if only I could have more such intrusions," he chuckled.
"I'd hoped as much," she smiled back. "For myself... I'm sure you've already heard it said many times, and will hear it even more, but I wanted to thank you for what you did during the battle. I would have lost loved ones had it gone on any longer. I might have lost everything."
Davos shrugged. "I didn't exactly have a grand plan to save the day."
"Again with the humble corrections," she teased, stepping forward to close the distance between them. He noted the way she looked him up and down with an appraising glance. "I've heard the story from witnesses. Important people come here all the time. Whether you planned it out in advance or not, what you did took quick thinking and courage, and no small amount of prowess."
He just smiled. "Thank you," he said. His eyes met hers. "I can't complain about where that night has landed me, or the company it placed me with."
"More compliments," Juliana observed, "like those I found in your eyes downstairs. I have to admit, I looked forward to this little errand tonight with a bit of hope."
"What sort of hope?" Davos asked. He stepped closer, too, knowing instinctively that he would be welcome in her personal space. Davos wasn't averse to such situations, but he'd never flirted so heavily or so quickly with someone he'd just met. Usually he needed more time to get to know a woman and sense whether his overtures would be gladly received before he dared make any. With Juliana, everything just felt right.
He sensed that she'd made her decisions before she even came up to his room.