“Can I ask you something?” Marius leaned across the bar. “You see and hear everything in this town, right?”
He scoffed. “Not everything, but more than I want to know.”
“Why can’t my friend Harlow find work?”
Roosevelt frowned. “You say she’s your friend?”
“Close friend.”
“Do you know who Adradys is?”
“Yeah, I know him.” A muscle in Marius’s jaw twitched, and he balled his hand into a fist at his side.
“Was her father’s biggest competitor. Took all the business when he folded. A couple of weeks ago, his people came in here and asked that we not hire her or her family. Said they were thieves who’d stolen from him when he tried to give them a chance. He warned everyone about them.”
“And you believed him?”
Roosevelt planted his palms on the bar and leaned closer. “To be honest, if she weren’t with you, I’d have found an excuse to throw her out. Her mother ran up a tab here to the point I had to cut her off. It’s overdue, and I haven’t seen a single payment. Her father was a known supporter of Eleanor. I have no reason to believe Adradys, but I also have no reason to doubt him, and given her family’s track record, what sort of business owner would take the risk? They’re former aristocrats. You know people like that can’t do a thing for themselves.”
Marius ground his teeth. He hated hearing Roosevelt talk about Harlow like that. “I can tell you without a doubt that Harlow is not a thief. She’s been working for me up at the palace for the past month. She’s a good friend and a hard worker. Tougher than she looks.”
“Yeah?”
“How much is her mother’s tab?”
“Four hundred dragmars.”
Marius reached for his purse and placed the exact amount on the bar.
“Are you really paying her entire tab?”
“Only if you give Harlow a chance. She needs a job. Offer her anything. Have her wash dishes, sweep the floor—”
“You think a former doormaker’s daughter is going to be happy sweeping the floor?”
“I think she’ll surprise you.”
“You do realize that the amount you are paying for her mother’s tab is equal to a month’s wages if I hire her. You could just give her the money.”
“She needs the work, Roosevelt. Do we have a deal or no?”
“Deal. Do you want me to go over there now?”
“No. Send her a falcon tomorrow. Don’t mention we had this conversation, and please don’t tell her about the tab.”
“Goddess, you have it bad for her, don’t you?”
Marius glanced toward the table and the back of Harlow’s caramel-colored head. “The worst.”
Chapter Nineteen
Why had she drunk that fifth glass of tribiscal wine? Harlow sipped the water she’d switched to and laughed at one of Brantley’s stupid jokes. The thing was, in her current condition, she actually thought it was funny. That was all the indication she needed to know she was likely intoxicated.
“So, Harlow, what happens in two days?” Marius asked. How was he not drunk? He had rows of empty glasses in front of him. The man could hold his liquor, that was certain. “Are we on for another month?”
Her head throbbed. She should say yes. It was good money. Money that she desperately needed. But while Marius was at the bar, Brantley had told her he was out. He couldn’t take time away from his family anymore or Aiden was going to divorce him.
“You don’t need it,” she blurted before she lost her nerve. “You’re ready to compete. You should sign up for trials at the pits.” Trials were how they vetted competitors and determined fighting class. After trials, a fighter might rank beginner, intermediate, remarkable, advanced, or champion level. Only champion-level fighters competed for the championship. Harlow was convinced that Marius would be ranked either advanced or champion level. Brantley was champion level, and he’d confided in her that he’d never faced an opponent as skilled as Marius in all his years as a fighter.
