Revelin walks over to us, looking as if someone kicked his puppy as he ruffles his hand through hair. “You heard, right? These cowardly fuckers are using the attack to… downgrade me.”
“Let it go, Revelin,” Dezi advises softly, standing close to the prince. “We’ll make do without all this in such a small town. Not having a lot of ties means we can dedicate time to our other project, do your concert, and move on to Amber Hollow.”
Khol’s not having any of it, though. The muscle in his jaw ticks like a time bomb as he glares at the council, who can barely hold his gaze. They shuffle their feet, trapped between their duty and the raw power emanating from Khol’s towering frame. “I’ll beat their asses for making you sad, man. Want me to?”
I can feel the tension radiating off Khol, and part of me wants to unleash him, let him shake some sense into these people. But I hold back, because this isn’t about what I want—it’s about what’s best for Revelin. So I swallow the fury, folding my hands together to quell the itch to fight.
But I’d love to get my knuckles out and join my slithering mate for a little retribution.
“Fine,” Revelin concedes, though there’s a steel undercurrent to his voice that wasn’t there before. “I’ll adjust. The show must go on, right?”
“Right,” Dezi echoes, clapping a hand on Revelin’s shoulder. But the weight of that hand says more than words—it’s a promise that we’re in this together, no matter how much Goldgarde’s welcome feels like a cold front.
The cobblestone beneath our boots whispers of age-old secrets as we trudge into town, a somber melody to our collective unease. The whimsical charm of Goldgarde’s main street does little to lift the mood; the attacks have cast long shadows over what should have been a day of excitement and anticipation.
“Remember,” Tiernan murmurs as we push open the heavy wooden door to the tavern called The Mourning Wood, “we’re not just here to eat. Keep your ears open for anything about local legends.”
We nod, understanding the dual nature of this pit stop. I scan the room before choosing a table near the hearth, its crackling fire a beacon in the dimly lit space. We settle down, our group an inconspicuous huddle in the corner. Revelin pulls his hood lower over his eyes, the prince’s face etched with quiet determination despite the setbacks.
I don’t like that he wants to hide—that’s not like him at all.
As plates of hearty stew and freshly baked bread are placed in front of us, I listen, really listen. The clink of mugs and the low hum ofconversations become my focus. Khol leans back casually in his chair, his posture relaxed but every muscle coiled, ready. Dezi, ever the diplomat, smiles at a passing server, coaxing a laugh and a longer chat about local happenings.
“Did you hear about that old mage Henley’s find?” a voice nearby piques my interest, and I stiffen slightly, tuning in more closely.
“Ah, the map? Pah, it’s probably another one of his tall tales,” another scoffs.
“Maybe so, but he swears it shows where some ancient explorer left his treasure. Could be something there if someone has the guts to follow it.”
A treasure map nearby—my heartbeat quickens. With practiced ease, I slip out my phone and jot down a shorthand note. Henley. Map. Explorer. This could be the lead we need in Goldgarde. But it’s not the time to act yet. First, we eat and blend in, part of the tavern’s tapestry until night beckons us away with its cloak of possibilities.
We trudge backto the bus, the air crisp with the onset of evening. Our footsteps are quiet against the cobblestone, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that hummed through us just hours before. Once aboard, we sink into the worn seats, each lost in thought until Revelin breaks the silence.
“Alright, what have we got?” His voice is steady, a lighthouse in the fog of uncertainty that has settled over us.
“A map,” I start without preamble, “supposedly charting the resting place of something valuable from an ancient explorer.” I pull out my phone, opening my notes. The others lean in, eyes flickering with a familiar spark—hope mingled with curiosity.
“Some old fart named Henley was the source,” Khol adds, his gaze meeting mine across the aisle. “There’s skepticism about its authenticity, but it’s worth looking into.”
I had no idea he heard it, too.
“Definitely,” Dezi asserts as he pours us each a nightcap. “These local legends often have a kernel of truth. If there’s even a chance...”
“Then we take it,” Revelin concludes, his lips pressed into a thin line of resolve. He turns to the vampire, his royal demeanor softened by a shared understanding of our mission’s weight. “Dezi, can you track down this Henley with our girl tomorrow?”
I nod, feeling the stirrings of excitement as I answer for him. “First thing tomorrow. But what are you doing while we poke around? And what about the others?”
“I have to move quickly to plan security days in advance,” Tiernan points out. “The council’s caution means we’re on borrowed time here in Goldgarde. My replacement team will be here tomorrow morning first thing, since we only have a day and a half.”
“And the band will have to meet to get shit together, then rehearse the set for this damn place,” Revelin says, standing as if the action could propel us forward. “Khol can come with me since Tier is busy. We have little time here, so we have to split up.”
“Tour or no tour, we have priorities,” Dezi reminds us. “So the princeling is right that we should divide and conquer.”
“Exactly.” Revelin nods at her, then at each of us. “Finding the fucks who are stalking the sisters and maybe murdered their parents is much more important, but we have to stay under the radar. The tour helps with that.”
At least, it did at one point. Does it now? I don’t know.
“Let’s get some rest,” Revelin suggests, though his eyes are alight with the thrill of the chase. “Tomorrow, we storm the town to see what we can find, whether they like it or not.”
