“You didn’t tell me time was of the essence,” she replied.
He shook his head while she did whatever else she needed to do before they left. She’d become far more comfortable as of late. It’d been three weeks since the Union Celebration. With each outing, she interacted with others more and more, but beyond that, the Avonleyan people were becoming more comfortable withher.He was sure the fact that she took down those spirit creatures and saved as many as she could at the celebration hada large hand in that. Silver lining or whatever that shit saying was. Shit, because who wanted a silver lining when you could have gold?
Some time later, he Traveled them to the docks, and she looked up at him with a frown. “The docks? Are we going to another tavern?”
“Not another. The same one,” he answered, leading the way. “Pull your hood up.”
She had to run a little to keep up with his long strides, and he should care about that, but he was annoyed with how long she’d taken to get going today.
“A hood isn’t going to do anything, Raz,” she argued. “I’m well-known now.”
“So am I.”
“You don’t wear a hood.”
“Then don’t wear one, Lia.”
He heard her noise of irritation, but she didn’t pull up the hood of her lightweight cloak. Neither of them spoke the rest of the way to the tavern, but as soon as they stepped inside, she made her way to a table off to the side and took a seat.
“What are you doing?” Razik growled, glancing to the booth in the back where his contacts were waiting.
“I’m sitting while you do whatever it is you’re here to do,” she replied, speaking as if he was stupid for even asking that question.
“By Sargon, what is up your ass today, Lia?”
But he didn’t give her a chance to answer. Let her sit there if that was what she wanted to do. He turned and headed over to the booth, the exchange of coin for product going much smoother without an impulsive queen with a blade. When he returned to her, he arched a brow at the mug of ale before her.
Half gone.
Setting the cloth sack on the bench, he slid into the booth across from her. “If you were worried about your image as queen, drinking in this tavern is not the thing you should be doing,” he said dryly.
She shrugged.
“Kailia,” he said in a low warning.
“How did you meet Wren?” she asked.
“What does that have to do with anything?” he retorted, thrown off by the sudden change in subject.
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just something I’ve been wondering.”
Razik shifted, getting more comfortable, and he signaled the server for a mug of ale of his own.
“You’re very protective of her,” Kailia added.
“She’s my Source. Of course I’m protective of her,” he said, sliding some coin to the server as he placed a mug on the table.
“But…how do you have a Source and Cethin doesn’t?”
He stiffened at the question. A question that had plagued him since it had become known that he had a Source. They’d kept it a secret for nearly a year after it had happened, but once word spread, there had certainly been a fallout that went back to Cethin. Everything always led back to Cethin.
“The Fae deaths aren’t a recent development,” he said, indulging Kailia in this rather than having to deal with her abysmal mood the rest of the day. “It’s only been in the last hundred years or so that they started happening. But even before then, with the Wards going up and separating Avonleya from the rest of the realm, there was worry about the Fae becoming scarce. Most worried because they’re decent people who care about more than themselves, but some worried because of a resource that would be lost.”
She nodded, drinking her ale and making a face that made him wonder why she was putting herself through this.
“When the Fae deaths started to become more common, some found lucrative opportunities with the Fae by pandering to those who were becoming more and more anxious about losing the Fae for their own personal needs,” Razik continued.
“And Cethin did nothing to stop this?” she asked.
