Henderson’s eyes sweep over all of us except for Calvin, which—along with the glower Calvin wears—tells me they’re already acquainted. “Interesting indeed,” Henderson says. “You wouldn’t happen to have taken anything that belongs to me, would you? You certainly have made a habit of it in the past.”
Dominic rises to his feet. “None of my Summoners belong to you.”
“We might disagree, if their bounties are big enough.”
A jolt of panic goes through me. Dominic assured us we wouldn’t be prosecuted for any of our past crimes while we were in service to him. Was that a lie?
My fingers flinch, desperate to cover my scar, but such a sudden move would only bring attention to it. Instead, I hunch slightly forward, encouraging my cloak to fall closed over my shoulders but not daring to glance down to see if it was effective.
“We can disagree all we want,” Dominic says, his voice edged in warning as he takes a step closer to Henderson, “but you would be in the wrong. You have no claim on my Summoners.”
Henderson huffs a laugh, then scans the table. His eyes linger on Bard, narrowing with keen scrutiny. Only now do I notice how still Bard has gone. His normally distant stare is locked on the center of the table, his shoulders hunched, lips pursed tight.
Slowly, Bard lifts his head and pins Henderson with the most hateful expression I’ve seen him wear. He holds Henderson’s gaze without falter. “Do I look familiar to you?”
Henderson’s answering grin makes my blood go cold. “Interesting indeed,” he whispers. Then he faces Dominic once more and holds out a slip of paper. “Speaking of what belongs to either of us, this is yours.”
Dominic eyes Henderson warily before taking the paper from him. His jaw shifts side to side. “Why do you have this?”
“Your next post assignment was sent by messenger from the church,” Henderson says. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Authenticate the letter with the church yourself. What do I care about your next post? I was in possession of the missive because the idiot messenger only knew to deliver it to theShadowbane at Thornfal.See what happens when you spend so much time cleaning up after your own messes rather than performing your duties as Shadowbane? I couldhave had two of your posts, but I left both to you. Rather generous of me considering how close we are to the Year of Bastien, don’t you think?”
“Generous? I thought you were more interested in collecting bounties anyway.”
“Oh, that I am. Let’s hope your current choice of…companydoesn’t conflict with my goals, or we’ll find ourselves at an impasse.”
“Threaten my Summoners,” Dominic says, stepping up to Henderson and grabbing him by the collar of his greatcoat, “and you’ll find yourself without a head.”
Henderson only grins as Dominic hauls him closer. “Such sinful words from a halfsoul. Maybe I should send the church a letter of concern. Though it’d be a shame if you were stuck in an inquisition during such an important time.”
Dominic bares his teeth but releases the other man. “Fuck off.”
Henderson brushes off the front of his coat with irritating calm. “For now,” he says. He gives our table a final glance before sauntering off, his Summoner trailing behind him. In their wake, the silence around us is deafening. I turn, finding all eyes from the other guests on us, including those of the barkeep, who wrings her hands before the kitchen door. We’ve made a scene, and now people are worried we might attract Shades.
Dominic must notice this as well, for he gives the room an apologetic bow of his head, then whispers to us, “We should go. We’ve overstayed our welcome.”
I’m surprised by his reaction. A Shadowbane has the authority to do what he wants when he wants, just like the other Sinless. Yet his guilt over having caused a scene is written in his furrowed brow. Or maybe he dislikes the attention. Shadowbanes are rarely seen in public, and when they are, the general mood is tense. No one wants to draw the eye of the person hunting bounties or detecting the source of Shade attacks. Even the innocent can find themselves on the wrong side of justice if their neighbors are desperate to save themselves and label a scapegoat.
Without a word, we rise from the table. Dominic heads for the stairwell that leads upstairs to the inn, and the rest of us follow. Ibring up the rear, only to think of the bread rolls I left behind. I turn back, reaching for the basket of yeasty goodness. It would be a crime not to finish them. Perhaps the butter too—
“They’ve all died. You know that, right?”
I freeze, finding Henderson’s Summoner strolling toward our table. Her master is nowhere in sight, but that’s not much of a comfort. I distinctly dislike this woman, even without knowing much about her. Ignoring her, I gather the bread and the butter dish and turn back around.
“All his previous Summoners,” she says, “they’re all dead. Why else do you think he needed you?”
My muscles tighten at the sound of her footsteps following me, but I pay her no heed as I proceed to the stairwell. As I climb, I see no sign of my companions.
The Summoner’s voice follows me. “Your master isn’t who you think he is.”
I halt in the middle of the stairwell, not wanting to lead her any farther. The loft is located on the third floor, but she doesn’t need to know where we’re sleeping.
She takes a few steps closer. “He’s been through more Summoners than any other Shadowbane under Prince Leeran.”
I roll my eyes and face the woman. “Let me guess. Your master is also employed by Prince Leeran. He’s competing with Dominic for the nomination to be turned Sinless.”
“There’s something wrong with the way he operates,” she continues, as if I hadn’t spoken. “He appoints outlaws instead of proper Summoners from the church. What is he offering you that’s so tempting?”
“I can’t see how it’s any of your business.”
