Nyssa’s face lit up. “Yes,” she said eagerly. “Though, they’ll have to remake a shirt for you. I can’t imagine they have anything large enough to fit, and I might have to bribe them as well.”
Soft laughter choked from him at her comment. “I suppose it’s good I brought my knife,” he bantered.
Nyssa speaking with the reluctant tailor made Draven’s day. He held his hand over his mouth to stop from laughing at the way she seemed to charm the Dreamer into agreeing to make Draven a shirt within minutes of the tailor saying ‘no’ initially. After allowing Draven to choose fabric and a cut, Nyssa paid the Dreamer, heftily, and they emerged from the shop to find it was nearly dark.
The shops were closing up, and people were beginning to flock down to one of the lower levels to the taverns for nightly enjoyment. Nyssa paused them at the castle gates and took Bala’s arm.
“Do you want to watch people fall over themselves after leaving the brothels and taverns?” Nyssa suggested.
Bala’s face lit up. “Do I?” she agreed. “Tell me there are sweets and wine involved in this endeavor.”
“Obviously,” Nyssa laughed.
“Should get some sleep, Bal,” Draven told her. “You know Hagen. He’s likely to be here at sunrise.”
“Oh,no, are they early people?” Nyssa asked.
Draven chuckled at her pout. “You should try living with them for a spell,” he said. “You’d learn the meaning of ‘darkest before dawn’ very quickly.”
Nyssa started backing down the street, Bala following after. “Don’t worry,” Nyssa said. “I’ll not keep her out long.”
Draven couldn’t help his shaking head as Bala gave him a wide-eyed smile over her shoulder.
“Goodnight, Venari,” Nyssa drawled in a sing-song voice.
“Hey, Nyssari?” he called to her.
The pair paused and turned, and Draven’s lips quirked a fraction on the right side, his chest swelling with the words he was about to say.
“You did well today.”
Simple words, but he could see in the way her eyes lit up that it was something perhaps she needed to hear. Nyssa swallowed, her hand visibly tightening on Bala’s, and she inhaled a jagged breath.
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
He nodded in response and then gave Bala a nod. “Stay out of trouble,” he instructed her.
But the pair laughed, and he watched as they disappeared down the side streets.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DORIAN WAS ONLY just returning to his room from the kitchens when he heard someone running down the hall. He turned just in time, seeing Lex in a bluster as she swept past him.
“Grab your things, Prince,” Lex said fast.
Dorian balked. “What—why?”
“Infi in the streets.”
Infi in the streets.
Dorian ran to his room. He grabbed his knife, his sword, his cloak, his tall boots. He clamored on all the buckles and the straps, and he exited his door in a huff.
He needed to find Corbin.
Dorian started with the next floor up, knowing sometimes Belwarks would sleep in the emptier rooms on occasion. But as he went bursting through every door, he only found Belwarks that were not Corbin in compromising positions or servants making up the rooms for their guests to arrive the next day.
Frustration swelled. He decided to make his way down to the market, hoping to run into Lex or Aydra on the way there.
