“Sit.” Mariel turned toward the nearest shelf and poured a shot of her strongest spirit into a small mug. She handed it to the girl. “Drink. Tell.”
The girl eagerly knocked back her head and tipped the liquid down her throat. She winced, but her cheeks immediately brightened. That was more like it.
Mariel sat and waited.
“I was out past curfew two evenings past,” the girl said quickly.
Curfew. Mariel frowned at just hearing the word. It was a self-imposed rule amongst the fae who lived in Drunkard’s Pit, one known only to the poor, unfortunate souls who were fated to be born in these streets. The wealthier fae of Tairngire did not have to worry about such things. But those of the slums had to be off the streets when Danu rose into the night sky. If they weren’t safely inside their homes, they might find themselves on the wrong end of a dagger.
Wincing, Mariel held up a hand. “First, tell me your name.”
“Nia.” She swallowed hard. “Daughter of Linnon Todt. We live in the tenements several streets over. I have not married yet. Neither has my sister.”
“I know of Linnon Todt. Good male. Strong in the Elemental Arts before the Fall, when our magic left us.” Mariel gave a nod. “Continue.”
“I was out past curfew.” Her cheeks reddened. “Meeting a boy.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, love. We have all of us done it, even those who wish to pretend otherwise.”
Nia nodded, relief passing across her tense face. “It was late. The second moon, Brigantu, hung low in the sky. When I reached the corner of Scarp Street and Muck Side, I…” She swallowed hard. “I saw something.”
Mariel leaned forward. “What did you see?”
All the color drained from Nia’s face. She flicked her eyes to the ale lining the walls and hunched over in the chair. “Can I have another spirit, please?”
Without a word, Mariel stood, poured the poor girl another drink, and pressed it into her shaking hands. After she tipped the contents into her mouth, she started talking.
“I saw someone else walking home. A boy, I think. I didn’t recognize him, and he had a hood over his face. He was up ahead of me on the street.” She cleared her throat, and tears filled her eyes. “Suddenly, two other fae jumped out of the shadows and attacked him. With daggers. He…”
Mariel placed a hand on Nia’s shaking knee. “Go on.”
“They killed him. They searched his body, stole his coins, and then wrapped him up in burlap before carrying him away.” Her hands twisted together, knuckles going bone white. “I hid. I watched the whole thing. I did nothing to stop them. I just hid.”
“As well you should have,” Mariel hissed as she leaned closer to stare into the girl’s tear-filled eyes.
Nia blinked and shook her head. “You don’t think I should have tried to stop them? But…”
“Listen to me, Nia.” Mariel’s heart thumped. “If you had attempted to save this boy, you would have joined his soul in death. Are you skilled in combat? Has your father trained you to wield a sword?”
Nia frantically shook her head.
“Then, there you see,” Mariel hissed. “This is not your fault. It’s the fault of our hateful High King. If he kept proper patrols on these streets, if he ensured the laws were upheld in the low fae quarters, then and only then would the murdering stop.”
Slowly, anger replaced the anguish in Nia’s eyes. “He is not a very good king.”
“No, my love. He isn’t.” Mariel had never meant anything more than she did when she said those words. For years, she had longed for the High King’s untimely death, if only so his son could rise to his rule. Thane was not much better than his father, or so she had heard. But perhaps he could be reasoned with, unlike High King Sloane.
Nia took a long breath into her lungs. “I came here this night because I saw the murderers’ faces. One, I did not recognize. But the other, I did.”
Mariel pressed her lips firmly together. “Good. Tell me his name and everything you know about him. And he will never murder another ever again.”
* * *
After Mariel’s meeting, she returned to her regular duties in the tavern. Her brother silently watched her from the corner, no longer booming with laughter along with his mates. She bustled through the maze of tables, doling out cider, ale, and rabbit pies. Her feet ached by the time the night ended. She had to shoo out a few of her regulars, but she would not keep the tavern open until sunrise this night.
There was other work to be done.
As she locked the door, her brother came up behind her, a steadying presence when the world around them felt as though it was slowly falling apart. Once, they had been part of a great kingdom. Once, they had wielded great forces. So much power had been in their grasp, and the capital had thrived because of it. Now, they were nothing more than tavern owners, barely getting by, living in a city devoid of magic and ruled by a pitiful king.
