Flushing, I called out to Kairen, "You mentioned a man you want us to meet in Amareshi, right? What's so important about him?"
Kairen nodded, scrubbing at his skin as he relaxed. "He goes by Wraith. No one knows his true identity, but he runs an underground market there. Basically anything illegal, he can get his hands on."
"Why exactly would we need to meet with someone like that?" Rena asked curiously, distaste in her tone.
"Because he also deals in information," Roan supplied easily, drawing my attention back to him. "And I think it should just be Kai, Bran, and I who go to meet with him."
I raised a brow, my anger flaring hot. “Absolutely not."
Rena'shumphof annoyance at Roan’s declaration quickly followed.
"Wrong thing to say," Bran murmured, letting out a low whistle.
"Why exactly shouldn't we go, you think we can't handle it?" My hands trailed over the water, touch light and slow as it rippled. He shuddered, his gaze locking to the motion, his cheeks tinging pink before he dipped beneath. Could hefeelthe touch through the water? His hair was dripping when he reemerged and shook it out.
"I don't fear that you and Rena can't handle it," he stated simply. "Wraith also deals in the less desirable aspects of humanity, including the illegal prostitution of slaves. If he says or does anything to either of you I fear I'll gut him before we get the information we need."
I softened slightly, my hands dipping back beneath the water. It was Rena who scoffed then, her eyes rolling with the sound.
"Sochivalrous. We're going and that's final." She snapped and he simply shrugged, shoulders tense.
Nobody argued with Rena.
Chapter Twenty Eight
After we were all dressed, we made our way back to the Inn for a meal. It didn't take long to secure a table or to have bowls laden with steaming meat and rice, and cups sloshing over with firemead, delivered. The tavern within the Inn was bustling with energy as I noticed some of the merchants from earlier dined here as well.
The food was delicious and well seasoned, but I figured anything would’ve tasted heavenly after the rations Gianni had been feeding us while travelling.
My eyes trailed over the occupied tables closest to us and someone familiar caught my focus. The girl with hair the color of steel sat not far from us, her father—I presumed—sitting across from her.
What held my attention, however, was the three men that surrounded their table. At first I simply assumed they were asking about the show, but I saw the sullen look dull the girl's face as she shoveled food into her mouth, ignoring the three Solerians that surrounded them. Her fathers expression was calm, blank, but I could see the agitation that flickered in his eyes.
My head tilted slowly, predatory as I saw the man reach out to tug one of the girl's braids and before I knew it I was standing, bowl and cup in hand.
The group followed my line of sight and Bran let out a low groan. "Sy,don't."
I ignored him as I walked with purpose, my stride determined as I reached their table. My bowl slapped down against the wood, cup following suit as I slid into the chair beside the girl—strategically placing myself in between her and the man. I let one of my daggers slide forth from where it lay hidden in my sleeve and laid it next to my meal before I finally looked up.
"Is there a problem here?" My voice was saccharine.
The one who had tugged her hair gave me an arrogant grin as his gaze roamed over me, eyes lingering upon my chest before dancing back up. "No problem, we were simply inquiring after the show they put on earlier."
Prick.
I turned my attention to the father, completely dismissing the pig. He appraised me with wary eyes, but relief seemed to shine in his dark gaze. "What a coincidence, I too wanted to speak of the show. I thought it was brilliant."
"Brilliant?" One of the others scoffed, his voice low and angry. “It was an insult. Everyone knows The Fever came fromtheirkind, not the Nine Hells."
My smile never faltered. "Is that not just another tale? As this one was? We mere mortals don't truly know the minds and intentions of demon princes and the Goddesses, do we?"
That seemed to baffle them enough for a silence to fall, but it only lasted for a blissful few heartbeats.
"Regardless, they should know better than to spill such filth in the desert," the first man growled, his voice twisting with loathing. "The only good place for a Luanthian in this kingdom is on the front lines or warming the brothel beds."
He reached around me once more for the girl's braid, and within a second my dagger was in hand, pressing against his wrist. The shadows stirred, a violent seething thing that pushed and swarmed at his words, his actions.
Cut out his tongue for his insolence.
