The details of the mercenary seep into my mind, his raven hair, his war togs, and his muscled body blinding me, even as my eyes remain open.
“After he showed up, it was the quietest night Mr. Lewis’s pub ever had.”
Mare snorts. “The only way to find anything resembling silence in that ale trap is to wrap one’s head in a blanket.”
“You’ve never been inside.”
“One can hear it from the street.” When I nod at the cup, she shakes her head. “You have not told me anything. We have an agreement. What of this man.”
Blowing out my breath, I choose my words with care. “He was dressed forfighting… there were weapons all over him, but I didn’t see any insignia. Are you aware of any kind of secret guard of the King? Maybe some soldiers who protect Him from positions in the shadows?”
Somehow I want that stranger to be moral. Or at the very least not an outlaw.
“How did you know he was from Prosperitus?” she asks.
“I… don’t, I guess. I just assumed.”
I can bring little to mind about the other three Kingdoms of Anathos, only spots of gossip I’ve overheard that don’t make me want to ever visit any of them: Dangerous places with dangerous people. Why couldn’t the demons target better victims than us?
Then again, if the Fulcrum is failing, maybe they are.
Mare takes a sip of her own volition, and as she scrunches her nose, it’s as if she brought the warm mug to her lips out of habit and expected tea.
“Any soldier of the King’s court must wear the royal coat and arms,” she says briskly. “That has always been the regulation, whether on or off duty. So either your man is from another court with a different tradition or…”
“Or what?” Then I shake my head. “And he’s not mine.”
“Or he is a rogue for hire. In which case, he would be wise to leave even this lowly settlement on the fringes of Prosperitus. Our King does not care for the ugly business of mercenaries. The stranger will be hanged if caught.”
“I haven’t seen a royal guard or representative here, ever.”
“That you are aware of.”
Though I studiously avoid my friend’s eyes, her mouth thins with resolve, and I wonder about all the things she hasn’t told me about her past.
“But you have?” I prompt. “Mare, have you seen—”
“Now enough about armed men. What about the demons?” She looks at me sharply. “And do not insulate me, girl. I have a right to know anything you do.”
Remembering my run through the darkness and the cold rain, I relive the shiver of warning that went through me.
“Tell me,” Mare orders grimly.
“I fear something got inside last night. I was on my way here, and I sensed… something behind me.” And because I’m not going to talk about the farrier, I tack on, “That’s why I didn’t come. I had to turn back.”
“Demons.” She makes the sign of the crescent moon over her chest, her forefinger and thumb a knobby C over her heart. “They are among us, for certain.”
“But there was nothing out of order on my way here just now. No one hurt, no disturbances. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.”
“You shouldnevercome at night.” She exhales with exhaustion. “I have told you this before.”
“I have to work in the kitchen preparing the breads and cheeses during the day—”
“And if you are killed by a demon while trying to help a dying old lady, how is that better than being slightly late for a shift you are not being paid for.”
“Mr. Lewis provides me with shelter and food—”
“For which you work yourself to the bone. From now on, you will come only during the day—”
