Poppy reached for another helping of mushrooms and mutton. After a few days of increasingly stale bread and dry cheese, the moist (and recognizable) food seemed like heaven to her and Jeorge. She reached for her goblet of spiced wine and leaned back. The Martigalinta Inn was known for its warm hospitality, and so far it hadn't fallen short. The 'Seer with No Name' and her escort had been given a room reserved for nobility, a table to themselves, and enough travel supplies to last a week if Poppy had been traveling alone, but only two days with Jeorge along. He reached for a drumstick, the bliss of the situation evident on his face.
"I think we ought to stay here a little while longer. There's food, and soft beds, and-"
Poppy cut him off. "If we stay here longer, the bandits will almost certainly find us. There's no telling what they might do if they discover that we're here, in a life of comfort after running away with two of their horses, a dagger, and I'm positive that those clothes aren't all yours."
Jeorge looked irritated, his over-sized shirtsleeves dragging through a boat of gravy. "That dagger was taken from a Soralin noblewoman. I think her name was Countess Aloria? And the horses weren't exactly theirs fair-and-square, anyway. Besides, when did you become Princess Honesty, Miss-I-Stole-This-Gold-and-Then-Ran-Away?"
Poppy glared. Her eyes, always a charged gray, filled with a flame like none had ever seen before. "Alright, Jeorge the immoral bandit. I, for one, am going to bed. I hope you find your valuable jewel and become a royal fluffhead and marry a beautiful princess, and I hope that the stone you find is cursed, and it'll turn you to stone! Et non egredieris!"
She raced up the stairs to her room, tears threatening to flow over. She flung herself onto the bed and slept for many hours, unaware that someone was creeping around in her room.