Chapter 300

On their way out, Zamiel and Zarin met Ilyas and invited him to go with them. Ilyas was hesitant at first, but then he followed them. They went to a tavern and as usual, gazes turned and eyes widened when they entered. It smelled of alcohol and food and… men. An unpleasant scent. They went and sat at an empty table and ordered their drinks. There was a heavy tension between Zarin and Ilyas as they waited for their drinks to be served. Ilyas didn’t bother to hide his dislike for Zarin. He had been there for Heaven after Zarin had hurt her. Zarin couldn’t stand the tension, so he spoke first. "I’ll apologize to Heaven. I care for her too," he told Ilyas. Ilyas just glared at him, and Zarin shook his head. "Why am I even telling you this?" he muttered to himself. Zamiel found the whole situation to be entertaining. He just sat with his drink and watched the awkward silence between them. For some odd reason, they started a drinking competition while glaring at each other. None of them wanted to give up, and they finished several jarls within a short time. When both got drunk, some men in the tavern who had been ogling them thought this was their chance. They got up from their seats and came to their table. "Young handsome boys." One of them licked his chapped lips. Zamiel didn’t use his frightening aura to scare them off. He was interested to see what would happen. Ilyas turned to the man with a look of disgust on his face. "Go away," he slurred. "Or what?" another man behind him smirked. Iiwfl lvmmc val vuft, fl ad ao jmpit jfcu vaq pn dzmq val aromkahfout lofou. "Or I will chop your limps and feed them to him," he said nodding toward Zarin. Zarin looked over at the man and wrinkled his nose. "The pretty boy knows how to make threats," the man told his friends and they laughed. "Sir, I want him," the bald man behind the man with chapped lips nodded toward Zamiel. Zamiel raised one brow but remained silent. "No, that one is mine," the man with chapped lips insisted. He walked along the table and to his side with unsteady feet all while eyeing him. When he neared, he leaned down and Zamiel could smell his filthy breath as he spoke. "So beautiful," he said, bringing his hand up to touch his hair. Before he could lay a hand on him, Ilyas grabbed his wrist, placed his hand on the table and drove his dagger through his palm, pinning his hand to the table. The man screamed in pain and horror, and the other men gasped before drawing their weapons. Ilyas kicked his chair back, ready to fight them. Zarin was shocked by the sudden turn of events. Oru md ovu qur ljpre val ljmzt fo Iiwfl, gpo usur ar val tzprcur lofou, Iiwfl uflaiw tmteut val foofhc. A daevo gzmcu mpo. Susur qur fefarlo Iiwfl. "I should probably help," Zarin said and took one last sip of his drink when it was knocked out of his hand. The drink splashed all over Zamiel’s face. Well, this was a good day. Zamiel wiped the beer from his face, and Zarin stood looking furious for getting his drink spilled. "Let’s see if the pretty boy can fight," said the man, holding out his sword.