Kurtz grunted. “Difference is, I don’t want that one to like me. Let’s get this done.”
Kurtz took position catty-cornered from the alehouse. Cole hesitated before heading down the alley to join Mistel and Zanna around back where an exterior staircase led up to a narrow door.
Zanna nodded across the alley. “I’ll wait just there.”
Cole inhaled deeply and glanced at Mistel. “I suppose you’re coming with me?”
“Of course.” She grinned, flashing her winsome overbite.
Arman, help me, Cole prayed.
They climbed the stairs. On the square platform at the top, Cole tried the keys. The fourth one clicked, and they crept into a dark, dusty room. Dim light squeezed through slats in the shutters, revealing a cluttered desk, shelves lined with ledgers, and bottles of what looked like alcohol.
“It’s cold in here,” Mistel said.
Cole stepped lightly, trying to avoid creaking floorboards. He reached the desk and flipped through a ledger. They needed proof—smuggling, piracy, anything illegal. It had to be here.
Mistel lifted a bottle from a shelf and examined it. “Excited for tonight? It’s our first show.”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
He considered the question. “My music has always been personal. Playing for a rowdy crowd makes me…” He trailed off.
Mistel tilted her head, a knowing glint in her eye. “The first time I sang for a crowd, I thought I’d faint.”
“You? Nervous?”
“Terrified. I was eight, visiting Sitna’s midsummer festival. I begged my mother to let me sing a song, but when I stepped on stage and saw all those people staring…” She shuddered. “I froze.”
Cole fought back a smirk. The idea of Mistel suffering stage fright felt absurd. “What happened?”
Mistel’s expression softened. “My mother knelt beside me and whispered, ‘Pretend you’re singing to the stars. They’re always listening, and they never judge.’”
“The stars? That worked?”
“Not at first.” Mistel chuckled, her eyes glossy. “It was midday, and I stood there like a fool, staring up at a blue sky. But then I closed my eyes and imagined it was only me and the stars. And I just…sang. When I looked up again, the crowd was clapping.”
Cole crossed his arms. “Doubt that’ll help when half the alehouse is drunk.”
“Well, if it doesn’t, find one friendly face in the crowd, and play for them.”
Cole rubbed the back of his neck. “What if I can’t find one?”
“Then focus on me.” Mistel traced her finger over the back of his hand. “I’ll be right there, cheering you on.”
Warmth stirred in Cole’s chest. He glanced down at their hands, wanting to grab hold, knowing he shouldn’t, wondering if their differences were too great to overcome.
“Better keep looking.” He pulled his hand away, and for a split second, hurt flashed across her face. It was gone in a breath, though, and she set about searching a bookshelf.
Cole opened a desk drawer and pulled out a stack of invoices. Spotted the name Erlichman on the top one.
“Thusk ships boar for Erlichman,” he said, paging through the invoices. “He sold to Abidan Levy in Sitna, Julian Coble in Land’s End, Angaro Boar in Meneton. Ships all over Er’Rets, it looks like.”
Mistel moved beside him and peered at the paper. Her hair brushed against his ear, and he couldn’t help feeling a little warmer, despite the chilled room.
The invoices were detailed, listing recipients of goods, amounts shipped, and destinations. A name on the third invoice twisted Cole’s stomach.
