I stifled a laugh, and it appeared Lancaster did, too. Some people were so easily distracted.
The man propped his arm on the back of his partner’s chair, his sleeve rolling up to expose?—
A silver cuff hung around his wrist, the chain connected to it dangling, broken. Lancaster stiffened.
Though he couldn’t see my face, the man raised his brows as if he knew he’d caught my attention. “See something you like?”
“Certainly interested in whatever story deems that necessary,” I intoned, waving a hand at his wrist.
“It’s from my latest stint as a prisoner.”
“Your latest?” I asked.
A smug smile lifted his weathered cheeks. “There’s been a few.”
“You can’t take it off?”
“I could…but then women such as yourself wouldn’t ask.” His eyes were curious as they rested on my hood, like his attention alone could convince me to pull it back.
“I wouldn’t get on her bad side,” Lancaster scoffed, leaning back in his chair. I couldn’t decide if that made me like him more or not. Though I’d agreed to a tentative peace with the faerie the last time I’d seen him, I would never forget his original intentions for Santorina.
“I’m Lessel, by the way. This is Mora.” The former prisoner ignored Lancaster’s advice.
“Pleasure,” I deadpanned.
“What’s your story?” Mora narrowed her eyes at me when I didn’t offer my name.
“What’s yours?” I asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Lancaster’s amused exhale. He waved a hand above his glass, and it refilled once again.A handy trick.
A smile cut between her high cheekbones, softening her features. “I ran away from a husband who gave me one too many bruises.” My stomach lurched. Lancaster’s fingers curled around the glass, and I thought a low growl escaped him. “Now I do what I must to get by.” Which apparently included spending evenings with men like Lessel.
Part of me wanted to offer her money, to give her whatever she needed, but I clenched my hands within my cloak and pictured Tolek. I had to keep a low profile, and handing out money was certainly not the way to do that. It was bad enough I had a possibly untrustworthy fae to deal with now.
“Your turn,” Mora said, pushing her bottle of rum across the table to me.
I ignored it. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Descriptive.”
Lessel narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re awful cagey, the two of you.” He shot a glance at Lancaster, face still shadowed beneath his hood. “You don’t have anything to do with that strange, black-tented camp, do ya?” His words slurred slightly at the end. Mora refilled his glass again, winking at me.
“What camp?” Lancaster perked up.
“The one in the woods just north of the capitol. With the active guard. More weapons than I’ve seen since the war.” I sat straighter, too. “They’re silent. Didn’t see ’em until we stumbled right into their line of defense. They sent us away right quick, they did.”
“What clan were they?” I rushed, leaning forward. Lancaster mimicked the motion.
Lessel shrugged, but Mora answered, brow furrowed, “They wore all black armor. Not identifiable as any clan.”
“Weapons?”
“Daggers, small swords, mostly. Some axes.”
A variety, then. Maybe it wasn’t Kakias. But maybe?—
“Where?” I nearly spat, but scratched at my Curse scar beneath my cloak to temper myself.
“About a mile south of here. Like he said, it sprung up on us. Silent as the deepest night, and deadly as it, too.” Mora’s eyes widened as she remembered it, pale skin nearly gray. “I’d advise you not to look for it. But if you must…you’ll know it when you’re near.”
