Alaric laughed under his breath, a low sound that blended with the hum of voices around us. He poured himself another drink, his fingers already steady despite how much he had had. I tilted my glass and let the liquid slide over my tongue, the burn spreading down my chest.
We stayed like that for a while, just drinking, the noise of the bar slowly creeping back in. The music from the corner, the smell of roasted meat, the sound of mugs clinking. It felt almost normal, like old times, before everything had turned into war and betrayal.
Alaric stretched his long legs under the table, leaning back like a man who had finally found a place to breathe. "This is good," he muttered, swirling the drink in his cup.
I nodded, my eyes drifting across the room. Two men at a nearby table caught my attention. They were hunched close together, whispering, but the more they drank the louder their voices got.
