Predatory Marriage (Web Novel)

Chapter 208 – Evening Walk (2)

Translator: Atlas / Editor: Regan

It was a short nap, but a deep one, and felt as refreshing as if she had slept for several hours. When Leah woke, she was outside the palace. After a few moments of blinking around, disoriented, she realized she was still in Ishakans arms, walking through the streets of the city at night. She was wrapped in a large robe.

Her eyes widened. It was the first time she had ever left the palace, and she looked at her surroundings with careful interest.

The night streets of the city center were lit with lanterns, crowded and bustling. But strangely these streets did not seem unfamiliar, almost as if she had seen them before in her dreams. She caught a few people looking curiously in their direction, no doubt wondering why the large man was walking along, carrying a small woman in his arms. Leah tapped his shoulder lightly to tell him she was awake, but he didnt intend to put her down.

“Were almost there.”

They arrived at a ramshackle inn that looked as if it might collapse any moment. For some reason, it too looked familiar, and Leah stared at it as Ishakan pushed through the creaky wooden door.

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“First, eat something…” he muttered. The inn was brightly lit inside and quiet. Though there were no customers, Leah smelled something so delicious, she had to swallow her saliva. Suddenly, she was as hungry as if she hadnt eaten those dates. Usually the smell of food made her nauseous, but this time it sharpened her appetite.

“Are you hungry?” Ishakan asked, smiling at the sparkle in her eyes.

She was too hungry to try to save face. Leah nodded instantly, and Ishakan strode past the empty tables to the farthest table in the back, pulling Leahs hood back as they sat down.

“Haban,” he said, calling someone over. A Kurkan approached proudly, carrying a tray in each hand. Leah recognized him as the same Kurkan that had rendered Countess Melissa unconscious.

“Kurkan food. We cooked the foods you liked in the past, though Im not sure if they will be to your taste now,” he said as he placed the tray on the table and arranged the plates. “Mura asked me to be sure to tell you she cooked it herself. I made the zaatar manakeesh.”

Most of these words made no sense, but his good will was very clear.

“Thank you,” she said, startling him with her formal tone.