“Yep. Twig.”
I immediately remember the little boy who was in the army camp. He brought me my meal when I first met with Rip and Osrik.
“He was born in Drollard?”
Lu nods. “Every child who’s been born here—though it hasn’t been many—they’ve all gone into the army.”
“Why?”
She sends me a sidelong glance.
I blow out a frustrated breath. The list of things I need to ask Slade is growing by the minute.
Just then, a pretty blonde-haired woman comes up to talk to Lu, greeting her with a warm smile. Again, I get that sense of strangeness. The woman is nothing but affable, there’s nothing out of the ordinary with her expressions or overall appearance, and yet...
And yet.
My eyes skate over the pavilion, watching everyone as they mingle, their feet stepping over the rough stone, each brick spiraling toward the center. A couple of men toss some logs on the fire pit, shooting sparks up into the air, while another group mills around a wine barrel, filling up cups and smoking something from a pipe in a shape I’ve never seen before.
It’s all very...pleasant.
So why then is the hair on the back of my neck standing up?
Just then, my ears prick with the sound of raised voices. At first, I think it’s just more of the villagers having a good time, but after a second, it becomes clear that the tones aren’t lively, they’reangry.
I strain my ears, trying to pinpoint where it’s coming from as my eyes scan my surroundings. Then I turn my head and find that it’s coming from further inside the pavilion’s cave.
I didn’t really pay attention to anything past the tables where people were eating. But now, I see there are a couple of tunnels at the end. Well, one is a tunnel, and the other seems to be a crack in the mountain that’s making a very narrow path. Their shadowed recesses are nearly impossible to see from here, even with the strung lanterns hanging near the entrances.
When the voices lift again, a few of the villagers at the tables turn to look. My skin prickles when the thick baritones cut through the air, though not clearly enough for me to make out any actual words.
But I don’t need words, because I know that voice.
I’m up and on my feet in an instant, wine cup left behind on the bench as my steps take me deeper beneath the pavilion. I skirt around the tables, clinging to the opposite wall of the cave, trying not to draw attention to myself. The first tunnel I come to is wider, and there are crates sitting just inside, supplies overflowing.
I start to head inside of it when the voices lift again, and I realize they’re coming from the fissure that’s tucked into the corner and bathed in shadows.
“Another one? How many is this now?”
I recognize Ryatt’s voice instantly, though it’s hissed out between the clenched teeth of palpable anger.
“Six,” I hear Slade answer.
“Six? Fucking hell. How long are you going to ignore this?”
My steps falter, eyes going wide.
“We still have time.”
A bitter laugh comes from Ryatt. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“What do you expectme to do?” Slade’s voice suddenly snarls.
“I expect you to protect Drollard. I expect you to not bring in a threat. To go be a fucking king.”
“Stop insinuating that I don’t protect Drollard. I do everything I can to ensure its safety,” Slade snaps back.
I suddenly feel very awkward, just standing here listening in on this conversation. I turn my head back to where Lu is, finding her still half turned toward the woman, though she keeps shooting me curious looks.
