Again Nash held up his hands, innocent as ever. “No offense. Drustan mentioned you didn’t have any family left, besides your uncle on Ice Island. Knew the man didn’t have a daughter. But hey”—he leaned in slightly, voice lowering—“I understand. Sometimes people make up stories to protect the ones they care about.”
Cole said nothing, fists clenching at his sides.
“If word got out Mistel wasn’t really your cousin…” Nash gave a sympathetic shrug. “Then she’s just a single woman traveling with two men. And that’s simply not done. Right?”
Cole stared at him, trying to read between the lines. Was Nash offering to keep their secret? Or threatening that he wouldn’t?
“I’ve got a song to play,” Cole said, then turned and walked back to the stage, heart hammering.
Mistel handed him his lute, her gaze searching his face. “Everything all right?”
“Brilliant,” he lied. “Let’s give them a show.”
But as his fingers moved automatically over the lute strings, he couldn’t stop scanning the room. Not for threats, but for evidence of cracks. In their cover. In his control. In the satisfied smirk on Drustan’s face.
And he couldn’t help thinking I’ve ruined everything.
Chapter 24
Mistel
This was what freedom looked like to Mistel, coin by coin, stacked high and gleaming.
The storage room was quieter now that the tavern’s chatter had faded. She sat at the battered table, savoring the scent of dried herbs and the metallic tang of money. The warmth of the lamplight and the soft clink of coins settled over her like a blessing. “We made a lot tonight. Best performance yet.”
“It did go well,” Cole admitted, leaning against the wall beside his lute. “Verdot Amal wants us to play at Ice Island.”
“Perfect,” Mistel said. “If we keep this up, we’ll make a fortune.”
“Why does it matter?” Cole asked.
She hesitated, fingers hovering over a rutah. “Because if we make enough, we can keep singing—make a living doing what we love. No one could control us.”
Cole tilted his head. “Who’s controlling us? We signed up for this.”
“I don’t mean now.” For once, the ache in her chest was quiet. She felt safe, wrapped in something larger than herself, as if she were exactly where Arman meant for her to be. Maybe that’s why the words spilled out before she could stop them. “Remember when you asked me why I’m always happy?”
His dark lashes looked thicker in the lamplight’s glow. “You said if you weren’t happy, the darkness would catch you.”
Mistel smiled faintly, no pleasure in it. She dropped her gaze. “When I was little, my mother got sick. My father worked, so I had to care for her. One day, she started coughing up blood. It scared me. And while I loved her, I didn’t want to be around her.”
She flicked through a stack of coins, grounding herself in the present.
“One day, she kept calling for me. When I finally came, she said, ‘Mistel, you’re such a beautiful girl. Promise me, no matter what happens, never lose your smile.’ So, I smiled really big. And that made her smile back. She asked for tea, and I went to fetch some. When I came back, she was gone.” Lying dead on the bed, eyes wide. No amount of shaking her or pleading with her to wake had made any difference.
“Oh, Mistel.” Cole caught her hands in his, smoothed his thumb over her knuckles.
“I was nine.” Her eyes glazed with tears. “Father came home and got angry, like I’d done something wrong. But I had smiled. I had made the tea. I did what she asked.”
Cole’s brow furrowed. “That’s terrible, Mistel. I’m so sorry.”
“I wanted to get away from that house, go outside, breathe fresh air, see flowers, but my father made me stay home. He was afraid I’d get sick too. Over the years, he never let up. I wasn’t allowed anywhere. Not even to the Corner to hear the music—not that it stopped me from sneaking out.”
Cole’s grip tightened. “He kept you locked away?”
Mistel jerked her head once, a short nod of assent. “I felt betrayed,” she whispered. “By my mother, who left me alone and told me to be happy about it. And by my father, who took my freedom and made me stay in that horrible, lifeless house. We weren’t allowed to talk about her death, either, but it was everywhere, in every breath, every frown, every cup of tea.”
Cole laced his fingers with hers. “That sounds awful.”
