“Didn’t need proof, did I?” the burly man bragged, intent on proving himself right to his friend. Will took that smug pride and tripled it, uncaring if the man noticed his own emotions were running wild.
Aidon subtly kicked him beneath the table, but Will ignored him. Because the man was still speaking, and Will hadn’t even needed to interrogate him, and finally,finallythey were getting a whisper of Aya—
“An entire shipload of prisoners, dead, just because Kakos dared to question her allegiance.”
Will, as tangled as he was in the man’s own anger and bravado, almost missed his own cool surprise at the man’s revelation.
“Pardon?” Aidon asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between the friends.
“Rumors,” the smaller man assured them, as if they might take offense. “There was a recent attack on the port. About two weeks ago now?”
The burly one shook his head, dropping another handful of coins into the pile. He was playing fast and loose, and Will watched as Aidon clocked it too, his eyes darting between the pile and the man and Will.
“Rumors,” the man scoffed with a wave of his hand. One of his cards fluttered to the table, landing face up. An ace. He tossed it in the discard pile without sparing it a glance. “Those miles from the port claimed to have seen a glimpse of her lightning as she rained her fury down.”
Heavy and unrelenting dread settled on Will’s chest, its weight enough to have his affinity reeling itself back, as if it knew, instinctively, he could not handle more than his own tempestuous emotions.
Lightning.
Aya had been in Sitya. She had been in Sitya, had displayed her power, and…
What the hells had happened? What horrors were these men speaking of?
Will opened his mouth to question him further, but a murmur rippled through the tavern, the pitch of it disgruntled enough to draw his attention to the door.
Two guards in maroon livery stood in the entrance. Between them stood the barmaid, her gaze scanning the crowd. She paused when she landed on Will, her hand coming up to tug on one of the guard’s sleeves.
Godsdammit.
The Talan Royal Guard had arrived in Maumart.
Will ducked his head behind one of the other patrons, drawing a bewildered look from Aidon.
“We have to go,” he rushed. “Now.” He didn’t bother to wait for Aidon’s agreement before he pushed to his feet, yanking at his hood to keep his face concealed.
Aidon followed suit immediately, cutting a glance to the entrance and swearing beneath his breath. “Gentlemen,” he said to the gamblers, “I believe I took this last round.” Before the men could blink, Aidon dragged his arm across the table, scooping the coins into his bag.
“Hey!” the burly man reached for Aidon, but the king was faster. He tipped the table, sending the drinks flying, and the men toppled back in their chairs in their haste to escape the mess.
Aidon grabbed Will’s shoulder and shoved him forward into the throng of people, throwing his elbows as he went, and soon the room was a mess of shouts as people started to shove against each other, the crowd swelling like an angry horde of bees.
Will could just make out the furious voices of the two gamblers above the rest, their condemnation following him and Aidon as they pushed through the growing chaos.
“Thieves!”
“Stop them!”
Will spied a flash of maroon as he darted through the crowd, but Aidon’s distraction had proven itself useful in slowing the guards. So he let his affinity spread, let it latch onto wherever it found belligerence, and heightened it.
A fist came for his head, and he ducked, his shoulder finding the soft flesh of someone’s gut as he fought his way toward the bar. A pair of stonemasons stood blocking the doorway to the kitchen, one holding the other in a headlock. Will grabbed the fabric of the attacker’s tunic and shoved them both out of the way, Aidon on his heels, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. A soot-covered cook stood at the stone oven, his eyes blowing wide as Will drew his knife and motioned to the door behind him.
“Move.”
The cook stepped aside as Will shoved the door open and raced into the alley. Aidon unsheathed his sword, skidding to a halt beside him, his gaze sweeping the street. It was dark, and the rain had yet to let up, but Aidon shook his head and stepped toward the main thoroughfare.
“The horses,” Aidon panted, but Will grabbed his arm.
“It’s too much of a risk,” he insisted as he dragged him back, his mind racing with his pulse. But there wasn’t time to sort through why the Talan Royal Guard, who was typically tasked with the policing of Tala and the protection of the Crown, was here.
