“You were hoping for another Raltven named Ru'din who you told to fuck off?”
“Yeah, about that.” He grimaced. “I'm really sorry. The King came looking for you, and, uh, the Commander, he's, uh, really mad. Evidently, the last men on duty forgot to pass on the King's order to let you through. It's not really my fault, you see. I wasn't told.”
“Yeah, but you were a dick about it. I warned you too. Twice. I said you'd pay for insulting me.” I cocked my head as if I were thinking, then said, “I don't think I want to go to the castle anymore.”
“What?!” he shrieked.
By this time, his buddies had realized their quarry had been located and were joining him. They came up just in time to catch the end of our conversation and gaped at me along with the Brandva.
“Tell the King I'll come by in the morning for my payment. I don't like the way I was treated at his castle.”
“I am not leaving without you!” The Brandva pointed at me.
My voice went deadly to demand, “Is that a threat?”
Suddenly, the street went quiet. This was a Raltven neighborhood and that meant every eye watching belonged to a member of my clan. Clan is like family, and family will go to war for you. Doors opened and Raltven streamed out. They didn't approach the Horns, but they unsheathed their corkscrew daggers and stared hard enough to make even a soldier in the King's army nervous.
“Easy now,” the Brandva said as he held up his hands. “I'm sorry if that sounded disrespectful, but my ass is on the line. Come on, what's it gonna take?”
I looked around at my neighbors, several of whom stood on either side of me. They grinned.
“My friends here are thirsty,” I said. “Hungry too. It's been a hard winter. Bring us a case of wine—excellent wine, mind you—and a bag of smoked sausages, and I'll go with you.”
“A case of . . . are you fucking kidding me? Do I look like I make that kind of coin?”
“Fine,” I huffed. “Just the sausages.”
“And some bread,” Frea, standing behind me, said.
I glanced back at her, nodded, then shouted, “And enough bread for forty people. Freshly baked bread, none of that hard, day-old shit.”
“Where the fuck am I—”
“I swear to Ranya,” I cut him off. “If you complain one more time, I'm gonna go down there and kick your ass myself.”
“You're from the castle, aren't ya?” someone called out. “Get it from your kitchen. And since you're being such an asshole about it, you can bring us a roasted pig too.”
“A roasted pig?!”
“You heard the man,” I said. “Get it and then I'll go with you.”
“Son of a fucking bitch,” the Brandva muttered as he headed for the carriage.
As he and his friends left, my clan and I laughed, but we did so on our way back to our homes. I was having fun, but it was fucking cold out there.
Chapter Ten
Less than half an hour later, the soldiers returned with two carts loaded with food. Not just the sausages, bread, and suckling pig, but also the wine I'd originally asked for, baskets of fruit and vegetables, and supplies such as bags of flour and salt. My clan swarmed the carts, but I just stood back and gaped at the bounty.
As my clan cheered and quickly distributed the food, I turned to the nearest Horn and asked, “What happened to the wine being too much? How did you get all of this?”
“This isn't from that idiot Horn,” a familiar voice said as the soldier on my right turned to me and lowered his hood. “It's a gift from me. An apology for the way you were treated.”
“Cyn?” My gape transferred from the food to the Dragon King. “Holy shit. You came to the Forgotten?”
“I came for you.” He stepped closer.
I looked at my people, taking in the delight etched across their faces, and blinked back tears as I turned back to Cyn. “Thank you. The Midnight Clan is proud, as all Raltven are. Work has been scarce this winter, but they would never ask for handouts. You fed my people while making them feel as if they'd won it.”
