Chapter 42
The moment they stepped inside, the noise hit her like a wave.
Lively chatter burst out from every direction, blending with the merry tunes of wandering musicians.
As Elaina turned her head to look around, someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
When she looked back, Lyle was gesturing toward the bar table, silently mouthing her name.
“Elaina.”
It was strange.
A name she’d heard countless times from countless people—yet when she saw it form on Lyle’s lips, something fluttered near her heart.
Lyle took her hand. The place was crowded enough that without holding on, they might have been swept apart by the flow of people.
But even as they wove through the throng, Elaina somehow didn’t bump into anyone.
That was because of the man walking half a step ahead of her, clearing the way with steady confidence.
Once they reached the bar, the noise dulled slightly.
Elaina raised her voice to be heard.
“Why are there so many people here?”
She tried to sound casual, but she’d never imagined this little alley tavern could be so packed.
Even her debutante ball hadn’t gathered such a crowd.
Lyle leaned closer, as if he hadn’t heard.
“What?”
“I said, why are there so many people?”
Lyle’s lips curved faintly, amused.
“There are far more commoners than nobles, remember. And this place is cheap—and decent. Word gets around.”
“Who said that?”
Before he could answer, someone inside the bar slammed down a mug with a loud thunk.
Startled, Elaina glanced over.
In the dim light, she saw a man with short gray hair and dark navy eyes.
He slid a beer mug—bigger than Elaina’s whole face—toward Lyle, grinning from ear to ear.
Thinking they might know each other, Elaina looked to Lyle. His expression had softened noticeably.
She blinked, taken aback.
He can make that kind of face?
Without his usual stiffness, he looked almost like a different person.
“Hey, Captain! Or should I call you Your Grace now?”
“Colin.”
The large man threw his arms around Lyle in a bear-like hug, patting him on the shoulder in a way only old comrades could.
Then his gaze met Elaina’s. His round eyes crinkled with warmth as he laughed heartily.
“Hah! And this must be the famous Lady Winchester! A pleasure to meet you. I’m Colin—I run this tavern with my brother.”
“Oh, nice to meet you too.”
After shaking hands, Colin ducked back behind the counter and called out,
“Drink as much as you like! It’s on me—consider it a celebratory round!”
A huge beer mug slid toward Elaina.
She glanced at Lyle in alarm, but he took her mug and drained it in one go.
“Don’t mind him, Colin. The lady’s not used to this kind of drink.”
“What? Really? Never had ale before? Now that’s a surprise!”
“Nobles rarely drink anything but wine.”
“Then what would the lady prefer? I’ll fix her something else.”
“I can drink,” Elaina said stiffly, lifting her chin. “Give me a beer.”
Lyle’s hand immediately appeared in front of her.
“Just bring some juice. Don’t start anything, Colin.”
Colin chuckled and gave Lyle a teasing look before disappearing into the kitchen.
“I can drink,” Elaina muttered.
“I’m sure you can. But you’ve never had the kind of beer commoners drink.”
For the poor, cheap, strong liquor was the quickest way to get drunk.
What Colin had served wasn’t really beer—it was closer to a potent spirit, the kind that could knock someone out cold.
“If you really want to drink, do it next time. At the mansion.”
“You don’t know this, but I actually hold my liquor quite well.”
(Not that it had been more than a few months since she’d first started drinking.)
Lyle gave a small, disbelieving smile, and Elaina edged closer beside him.
“So how do you two know each other?”
“We served in the same unit. He was under my command.”
“But he looks older than you.”
Lyle nodded. Colin reappeared with a peach-colored drink and answered for him.
“Yes, ma’am. I am older—by seven years!”
Colin laughed, remembering the first day he’d met Lyle.
It was when the young noble had arrived at the battlefield with his father.
For five years—until that father’s death—Lyle had been treated as an outsider among his own men.
Common soldiers resented nobles on principle, and the idea of a fifteen-year-old heir to a ducal house commanding them had rubbed many the wrong way.
When Lyle’s father died, Colin—then a squad leader—had taken the boy under his wing, adding him to his unit.
Within a year, before Lyle was promoted to centurion, he’d been one of Colin’s men.
“We went through hell together,” Colin said simply.
“Everyone still doing well?”
“Of course! Thanks to you, Captain. We all made it back alive.”
Colin jerked his chin toward the wall.
A small framed medal hung there, silver and gleaming faintly—a token of knighthood.
“You were knighted,” Lyle noted.
“Yes, that’s right, my lady.”
“Then wouldn’t joining a knightly order pay better? A man who led soldiers through war would be more than qualified.”
Colin smiled and gave Lyle a sidelong glance.
“I know my place, my lady. A commoner knight? That’s just a pearl necklace on a pig.”
Elaina was taken aback and fell silent, but Colin laughed loudly, breaking the tension.
“Still, it makes a fine decoration, doesn’t it? I’m happy enough running this tavern with my brother and being alive to do it.”
He lifted his mug for a toast. Lyle clinked his own against it silently.
His ducal title might be empty ceremony, and the rewards promised to commoners who fought in the war had been much the same—pretty lies dressed up as honor.
But there was no reason to say that in front of Elaina.
He drank in silence. Beside him, Elaina sipped from her juice.
It was sweet—pressed from ripe peaches. She sneaked a glance at Lyle’s drink.
“What?”
“Can I try that?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Still, he slid the mug toward her.
The mug was heavy enough to tremble in her hands. After a moment’s hesitation, she brought it to her lips and took a tiny sip.
Her face instantly scrunched up.
“Ugh!”
She grabbed her juice and gulped it down, but the taste of alcohol clung stubbornly to her tongue.
Colin burst out laughing.
“Don’t just laugh—bring her some water,” Lyle said.
“Right away, sir.”
Colin soon returned with a glass of water, which Elaina used to rinse her mouth furiously, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel’s.
“See? That’s what happens when you’re stubborn.”
“Is that really something people drink? It’s way too strong!”
Even after several rinses, the burn lingered on her tongue.
Lyle simply picked up his mug and finished the rest of the drink in one long swallow.
“Not bad.”
“It’s so strong.”
“You get used to it.”
In a place where people died every day, you needed something—anything—to stay sane.
He’d learned to drink long before he became an adult.
Spirits were used to clean wounds or dull pain, so even if he didn’t drink, he’d always kept a ration close at hand.
Even after being promoted, he still sought out the harsh liquor he’d grown accustomed to.
“I think I’ll need another juice,” Elaina sighed.
She drank the next glass as boldly as Lyle downed his beer.
The sweet taste finally washed away the sting on her tongue, leaving only the gentle scent of peaches lingering in the air.
Lyle ordered another round—one drink for him, one juice for her.
As the heat of the alcohol spread through his body, the faint peach fragrance beside him was soon drowned in the sharp scent of liquor.
