My lips curved and then I was sliding easily into a seat opposite of him. “I like you already, another round of whatever you’re drinking?”
Amber eyes flicked to me, a pale brow rising. “If you’re buying, I suppose.”
Roan moved to get the drinks, steps sure and confident as he slipped between the tavern patrons to the bar.
“We’re looking to hire a crew,” Kairen said as he moved into the seat beside me.
The man’s ringed fingers drummed against the wooden table, “Find one then.”
Kairen blinked, smile tightening just a fraction, “Well yes, we intend to—”
“Good, sounds like our conversation is over then. I’d like to drink in peace now.” The man interrupted, amber eyes flicking from me to Kairen.
Roan returned with the drinks, his presence steady and quiet as he moved to sit on my other side.
“You know most men would at least pretend to be interested in an offer.” Kairen stated, disbelief warring in his golden gaze.
The man took a slow sip of his drink, eyes holding Kairen’s over the rim of the glass and then, “Most men are fools.”
I snorted, lips curving as I took a sip of my firemead. Kairen’s exasperated look fixed to me then, and my shoulder lifted precariously. “What? He’s not wrong.”
Kairen released a low breath as I leaned forward. “Is there nothing we could offer to interest you? Surely there’s something you and your crew need?”
Amber eyes flicked to me briefly. “You’re not merchants.”
“No.”
“Not smugglers either.”
“No.”
“Too well-armed for simple city folk. Too tense for nobles on holiday.” His gaze shifted, landing on the prince’s hand—on the rings that adorned his fingers. Far weightier and pricier than the ones on his own hands. “And too obvious to be anything but trouble.”
Kairen followed his gaze, then looked back up, unbothered. “And that concerns you?”
“It doesn’t interest me.”
Roan tapped his fingers lightly against the table, his head tilting thoughtfully. “You’d be well-paid.”
The man snorted, taking in Roan’s white hair and the golden tattoos that crawled out from beneath the neckline of his cloak. His mouth twitched, faintly. “Aye, but there are plenty of jobs out there that pay well, Kinslayer.”
I stilled, of course he’d recognize Roan. My mouth tightened a fraction before I took another slow pull of firemead, mind racing. Howcould we convince him? There wasn’t another sailor in this building who looked as if they’d be up for the task.
Kairen bit out a sharp breath, golden eyes flashing as he leaned forward.
“I am not asking as a passerby,” he said, voice lower now, but carrying far more weight. “I am offering you employment under the crown.”
The tavern noise dulled at the edges, like the room itself was listening.
My arms crossed, my eyes rolling. “Subtle,” I muttered again.
The man stilled, regarding Kairen for a moment, “I don’t sail for crowns, Prince.” He continued, fingers tracing the rim of his tankard, “Nor do I sail for causes. Or men who think flashing gold can get them whatever they wish.”
“You’re refusing a royal commission?” Kairen asked, voice sharpening.
“Aye. I’m refusing a bad decision,” he said simply. Then his gaze turned back to Roan and I, “does he always throw his title about to get his way?”
I grimaced lightly, shooting Kairen an admonishing look, “It would appear so, but that doesn’t change the fact that we still need a crew.”
