“Max and I are thinking of returning early.” She blurts, and her co-dependent slouches back into his chair, sighing. Her palm slaps over her mouth, shocked at her words, before giving us a sheepish smile. “It just seemed easier if we brought the princess back to Obsidian.”
Will’s brow cocks, and he leans forward, “easier on who?”
“All of us. This isn’t exactly a functional system we have here. You and Max already crossed off your assignment, Bennett and Rorin are still… looking,” she doesn’t meet my eyes when she says it, “and if we’re being honest? I have doubts about her safety here.”
“And she’ll be safer in enemy territory?” Will’s voice rises.
She glares at him and his snarky tone, her arms folding tight across her chest. “Probably… not once… Eveera gets there,” she rushes, “BUT– we will,Iwill. You know, the person saddled with watching her all of the time? It was just a thought.” She finishes.
I purse my lips together, my men and I sharing a look before Bennett sucks in a deep breath, and the five of us move on to developing a plan for the night. While they talk, I mull over the demand from Eveera’s council and Millie’s bright idea to leave Suram early.
Both are things I don’t like. And while I’m unsure of Millie’s full motives, there’s a clear underlying warning from the council. And it has nothing to do with me being present in Obsidian to rule, but all to do with the kingdom not appearing vulnerable.
The message is obvious: you’ve run out of time.
Felix has done all he can to placate them thus far, but the reality is – for the better part of the year, he’s been the sole frontman, and her people are starting to notice. She’s become invisible to them, and while that may be normal for the rest of the realm, it certainly isn’t for them.
And the last thing her court needs is an uprising from the people.
Max opted out of staying with Millie and the princess tonight, choosing to join Bennett and my search. A search that led us back to the tavern I stumbled out of this morning.
The three of us elbow our way through the now overcrowded bar, piling into an empty booth at the back.
A barmaid pushes through the horde, dropping off a handful of ales with us. Bennett passes them around, and Max takes a whiff, scrunching his nose at the potent liquor.
“Lighten up, Max.” Bennett teases, clanking his mug with Max’s, the liquid sloshing out and onto the table. “Oops.” He mutters, taking a deep swig of the copper colored drink. We follow suit, the bitter drink clawing its way down, Bennett erupting in a cough. “Ah–oh…kay well, cross Suram off the list for ‘knows how to make good ale’ because that is…” he coughs again, pointing his finger at the mug, “special.”
“It’s not the best,” I admit, “but it sure as hell knows how to get you pissed.”
Bennett snorts into his cup, and Max grumbles, “we’re not here to get pissed” before taking a second drink.
I incline my head in agreement and resume my people watching. It’s moments like these I wish my Wield were a little more useful. Eveera’s tendrils could seek out someone’s guilt and fear like a bloodhound. And an ability like that would be incredibly useful in my hunt.
“Why did we choose this place again? Spending the night here last night wasn’t enough time?” Max quips.
I lift my brows, and choke down another drink, “ach! Had a gut feeling.” I tip my cup forward, angling it towards the twopeople I’d noticed on the street at the start of their night. While the two of them thought we were striking out, I was trailing after these characters.
Bennett and Max’s heads swivel to where I’m gesturing. Tucked in an alcove, we watch as the small, cloaked individual reaches over to slip a small parcel into the breast pocket of their taller companion.
The latter bends down to mutter in the former’s ear, shaking his hand before slipping back into the crowd. A smile crawls up my face, setting my mug down on the table, “him.” I say quickly, sliding out from the booth.
“How did you even…” Bennett trails off, the two of them rushing after me, as I push through the swarm of drunken patrons.
The man darts out of the tavern, moving briskly down the thin alleyway that the three of us have to break into a run to catch up. Within a few wide steps, I close the distance and close onto their hood, whipping their body around until I can shove them against the side of the bar.
“What’d you give them?” I demand. The man looks up, eyes wide as he shakes his head, his words lost to him. “Come on, don’t make me force it out of you.”
“Uh… Uh..” He stutters.
I sigh, adjusting my grip so that I can unsheath my knife and press it snugly underneath his chin. “What were you selling in the tavern, hmm?” He squeaks out another sound, but it’s nothing coherent. “Is it yours, or are you just the lackey delivering the shit?” I snap. His head bobs up and down frantically, and my brows lift. I pull my knife away, lowering it from his throat to his collarbone. “Show me.”
“Wha-what?” He finally manages.
Must I spell out everything for these people?
“Show me where andwhothe stash came from.”
He holds his breath, not wanting to agree to my demand. But, for obvious reasons, he concedes. I drop the hold I have on his hood, and both of his knees buckle. My arms catching him before he hits the ground. He whimpers an awkward thanks before taking the lead.
