“I hope there’s wine, either way,” Terena replied.
Beyond the door, a steep set of stairs led down, the passage lit by a lone torch in a sconce at the bottom. Neither the tracker nor Croak were below, only a metal door with a small hatch surrounded by large rivets.
Rydon banged on the door impatiently. The hatch slid back and a man’s dark eyes peered back at them.
“Aye?”
“Really?” Rydon scoffed. “We’re with the boy and the woman who just came through.”
“Who?”
“Don’t test my patience, scum,” Rydon growled, gripping the opening as he leaned close. “You won’t like—ow!”
The man slammed the hatch shut on Rydon’s fingers. He yanked them back with a hiss as the door opened to reveal the woman grinning beside a laughing Croak. The man holding the door open cast them an evil smile, his scarred face macabre in the flickering light as he gestured with a mocking bow for them to enter.
“Everyone’s a fucking jester today,” Rydon grumbled as he slammed his shoulder into the man on his way past. Terena bit her lip and ducked her head as she followed. Sounds reached her then, a low buzz building in volume and, as they went deeperinto the dark, tight corridor, they settled into a cacophony of voices, music, and laughter.
Terena moved to Rydon’s side, her mouth falling open at the scene before her. A large, open room with booths, tables and a large, circular bar in the center greeted them. Candles of all sizes dotted the room, leaving some areas in darkness.
“I’ve traveled through Ovenno before, but I’ve seen nothing like this,” Terena said to Rydon, raising her voice and pressing close to be heard over the noise. There were so many crowded within, she worried she’d lose Croak in the crush. She tugged at Rydon’s sleeve and moved through the bodies, weaving her way around a man whose large belly pressed uncomfortably into her back.
“Oh, you are lovely,” a rough voice growled in her ear and Terena shivered in disgust. Before she could tell him to fuck off, Rydon shoved the man in the face. Others protested in the man’s defense and Terena surged forward, itching for a fight.
As the crowd undulated back, Terena went for her swords. The tracker popped up behind the offender right then. Without a word, everyone around her backed away, creating an opening in which Terena was able to breathe in air that was not body odor and stale ale.
With a tilt of her head, the tracker motioned for them to follow and as they passed, the crowd gave them a wide berth. No longer bothered by patrons, Terena’s gaze darted around, noting the hard men and women, their stares filled with all manner of malice as Terena passed.
They moved slowly toward the back, then the woman veered to the right, where a man stood before an arched doorway. Pulling back on green velvet curtains, the tracker laid her hand on his arm as she went inside. Croak followed as if he’d known the woman all his life.
Terena didn’t notice Rydon had stopped in front of her and smacked right into his back.
When she looked up to see what had stopped him, her heart dropped to her belly.
Sitting on a plush sofa of red brocade with gold rivets, his arm stretched over the back, Xoran, Captain of the Imperial Guard of Heylisia, lifted a crystal goblet of wine and grinned.
Chapter 7
NEAR VESALA, OVENNO
Croak balked at the man who’d once been under the command of Croaks’ father before his untimely death. Shock had dulled his instincts, but he quickly recovered, snatching his sword out of its scabbard and dropping into a fighting stance.
After his initial shock, Xoran’s loathsome face stretched as he grinned and he watched them for a long moment. He had the gall to take a drink of his wine. The scabrous dog acted as if he had no care in the world.
“You picked the wrong tavern, Xoran,” Terena snarled at the soldier, her face livid.
“Not from where I’m sitting,” the asshole replied. Croak wasn’t sure what he liked less about the man, his rat-like face, or his raspy voice. It sounded like something he affected to sound dangerous, but all it reminded Croak of was their old cook who smoked at least fifty bossena smokes a day.
Xoran set his goblet down with more care than the vessel warranted and narrowed his dark eyes at Terena. “Perhaps it is you in the wrong tavern?”
“Stop posturing,” the tracker muttered, moving to Xoran’s side, one hand digging into the pocket of her leather pants.
Taking a seat on one of the sofa’s arms, she tossed a coin on the table near Xoran’s wine. The captain flashed her a grin as the woman crossed her arms at her chest with a scowl seeming more good-natured than angry.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Croak looked between the tracker and the captain. “You know each other?”
“Did she not say?” Xoran laughed, his face transforming slightly to look more like a dog crossed with a rat. “Vassori’s my sister.”
Croak was certain the same stunned look on Terena’s face was mirrored on his own. Rydon looked just as flummoxed.
