“He might not be with them,” Dunstan offered, watching the same scene unfold.
“I don’t know. The way he scanned the street before going in, the way he pulled up his hood. We didn’t have ears on the conversation, but I bet he did.”
Dunstan offered an unconvinced grunt as he twisted his locs atop his head and tied them into a bun. “Can't trust a man with a beard.”
Biting back a laugh, George knew she almost had him convinced.
Burke returned, joining them in the shadows and making an exaggerated gagging sound. “He was actually drunk. He’s staying at that fine inn up the road.”
“The last man it is,” Dunstan replied.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Burke asked as the bearded man stood from his seat.
“Here we go,” George murmured.
Running a palm over his beard, the man emerged from the pub and paused to get his bearings. He headed off in the same direction as the first.
Definitely connected.
“We should follow him,” Burke offered.
“We should take him,” George blurted.
“Mira—” Dunstan started, pulling out her alias.
“Think about it.” Her mind was already racing through possibilities. “That man?” She pointed toward the stranger’s retreating form. “He heard whatever they talked about inside. Maybe he’s a guard, maybe a co-conspirator, who knows. But he has something we don’t—information. Let’s go get it.” George set her empty tankard on the barrel and started toward the street, Dunstan by her side.
“Shouldn’t we plan first? Hildy’s going to kill us.”
“We can plan while we move,” Dunstan replied.
George couldn’t help but smile. “That’s the spirit.”
Isahnscratchedhisneck,lamenting his beard and hoping a shave day was on the horizon. He couldn’t get out of this disguise soon enough. The pub door closed at his back and he nearly plowed into a barmaid as she passed with a pitcher and three mugs.
Stinking of stale beer and woodsmoke, the tavern was dimly lit but not dark, and Isahn preferred to remain unseen. He was grateful for his cloak, his facial hair, and his walnut-dyed tressesas he placed Peros in the back corner, his purple jacket hard to miss, even in the low lighting.
Refusing to wear anything not ostentatious, Sir Peros Sarma, knight, stood out like a sore thumb amidst the fur- and wool-clad residents of Sorhaven. To be fair, the men his uncle sat with looked out of place, too. Bold hues must’ve been in this season, with the curly, black-haired man wearing a tunic of reds and oranges, and his straight-haired friend dressed in blues and silver.
They’re not from around here.
Slinking closer, Isahn paused near an empty table and let a few patrons partially block the men from view. The whole purpose of his journey was toavoiddeath. Being spotted wouldn’t be much help. It wasn’t even a quest he particularly wanted to be on. He loved a fun adventure, but journeying to a neighboring country to spy on his uncle didn’t qualify. He’d much prefer to be back home, or better yet, on holiday, with a beautiful woman by his side. Someone looking for a lark, not to break the law.
Like her.
A gorgeous barmaid approached, her tunic cut low and belted just below her voluptuous breasts. Isahn grinned and winked as he took the proffered mug, let her fill it up, and handed off a coin.
Returning his flirtations with a wink of her own, she slipped away into the crowd. If it was meant to be, he’d catch up with her during the night. Sliding into a seat, he returned his attention to Peros and the pompous-looking men.
What was Peros grasping for now? Isahn had a multitude of reasons to distrust his uncle, who’d always wanted what wasn’t for him.
His mother’s younger brother was knighted, a consolation for not inheriting the earldom. But being a “Sir” never satisfied Peros. He’d also earned an ungodly amount of money in the role,which never sat right with Isahn, his sister, Solaelia, or with his parents when they’d been alive. Point one against his uncle.
Point two: Mum and Dad’s deaths from bad oysters never really made sense to his sister, and Isahn had to agree. Mum never ate oysters out of season.
Point three: When Isahn was handed the earldom a few years back, Peros didn’t offer to help his nephew take the reins, even though he was familiar with Staridge. It was like he wanted Isahn to fail. A new earl, Isahn had to rely on Solaelia for support, and his best friend, Lord Kas Kahoth, a double-titled duke and earl.
The closest Peros ever got to helping was inviting himself to dinner and begging to look at the estate’s records. Isahn said no—every time.Point four.
