He wanted to tell her he loved her.
The words swelled inside his chest, aching to be said. Just tell her, he thought. Say it.
She caught him staring and her lips curled invitingly. “What are you looking at?”
“You.” It was all he could manage.
She rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed, and she gave him a little push. “Go, silly. Nash will be wondering what’s going on.”
As much as he wanted to stay, to hold onto this moment, he reached for the door.
Later. He’d tell her later.
Chapter 34
Kurtz
“Haven’t seen Kosotta since the night you talked to her,” Fiora said, twirling her finger in her hair. “Master Fawst hired Rilla to replace her.”
Kurtz leaned against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other as he listened to Fiora fill him in on the latest gossip. “Rilla Vandy?” he asked.
Fiora nodded behind him. He turned and saw Rilla carrying a platter across the room. Why was she working here?
“Kosotta hasn’t answered at her house either,” Fiora said. “I went over there, like you said, but it’s all locked up.”
Kurtz dragged his attention away from Rilla and back to the conversation. “What about Verdot? Did you talk to him?”
“Yes, and you were right.” Fiora nudged his arm. “He was very happy to see me. I thought I’d feel bad about tricking him, but turns out I don’t mind it at all. That one deserves what he gets.”
“What’d you find out?” Kurtz asked.
“I only had to mention your band,” Fiora said, “and he started bragging about how he got you to play at the prison. He thinks you’re trying to learn something from the boy’s father that will make him look bad, though, so he said he’s moving him.”
Alarm flared in Kurtz’s chest. “Moving him when? And where?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Fiora replied. “He said south. I guessed Mitspah, but he laughed and said somewhere warm.”
Kurtz’s jaw clenched as movement across the room drew his gaze to Zanna, who was headed toward them.
He’d bet anything Verdot would put Crispen West on one of Thusk’s ships, likely to rotting Jaelport. He wished he could prove that Verdot Amal was dirty, that the man had had something to do with King Axel’s murder, but if he couldn’t pin that on him—yet—getting Verdot behind bars for trafficking prisoners would do nicely. Anything to put the man where he belonged.
But first, they were going to have to spring Crispen West from Ice Island. Tonight. No time to plan, no margin for error. Kurtz wasn’t about to let Cole’s father slip through their fingers. Or be made a eunuch in Jaelport.
Drustan Fawst strode past, his boots striking the floorboards like anvils. “I don’t pay you to flirt, Lingel,” he barked. “The tables in back are waiting for refills.”
Fiora sneered at Drustan’s retreating back. “Yes, sir.” Her gaze returned to Kurtz, lips twisted into a smirk. “As if I’d flirt with the likes of you, Kurtz Chazir.” She winked and sauntered off toward the back tables.
Kurtz chuckled just as Zanna arrived. They were almost the exact same height, but the few inches he had on her forced her to tilt her head to look at him. As the brown depths of her eyes focused on him, he lost his trail of thought.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He swallowed and glanced away. “We’ve got trouble. I’m going to bloodvoice you.”
Those gorgeous eyes widened, and Kurtz ignored the way his belly flipped at the sight of this woman taken off guard.
Then she blinked, and her stoic mask returned. “All right,” she said. “I’m ready.”
He chuckled again—couldn’t help it—and sent his knock. Kurtz Chazir.
