“What are you reading?” Jubilee asked. “I’m Jubilee, by the way.”
“Let me introduce you!” Briona said. “This is Jubilee Righthoof and Saeldian Charmhand.”
The orc looked at Saeldian and Jubilee. “Good to meet you—”
From behind him, the other man said, “Did you say Charmhand?”
That voice rang with shock. With anger. And Saeldian would know the voice anywhere, with any tone—laughing, singing, whispering, cursing. Ten years crumbled at the sound of it, and Kell Redsong emerged from behind the druid to stare needle-sharp fury at them.
Saeldian’s first sight of him made the floor drop three feet. Gray salted his chestnut hair. Lines traced across his brow and the corners of his eyes—not deep, not yet. But to see their best friend—ex–best friend—with the weight of three thousand days between them made Saeldian’s throat hurt.
“You.”
Briona had known about the Silver Cat of Baldur’s Gate, all right.
Saeldian smiled at their former best friend. “Hello, Kell. I see why Saer Briona wanted me to agree to the job before this reunion.”
Briona didn’t even have the grace to look abashed.
Saeldian clicked their tongue. Mariel shifted, aiming her attention at them, but Saeldian ignored her. “Is this part of your sense of humor, then?”
Kell interrupted. “It doesn’t matter, Charmhand. No deal, Saer Briona. I prefer my spine without a knife in it.”
Chapter Two
A Better Liar Than Anyone
In Which Kell Is Offered What He Wants Most—for a Price
Kell Redsong sometimes wondered what he’d do if fate brought him face-to-face with Saeldian Charmhand again. He’d imagined what he would say (something devastating) or do (something impactful) or how Saeldian would react (something dishonest), but he hadn’t really expected them to flinch. He hadn’t expected to see sadness twist their mouth like it hurt, but they tucked it away so fast that no one but him could have seen it before the familiar knowing amusement returned to their features.
There had once been a time when Kell could read paragraphs in Saeldian’s smallest expression. They wore their infuriatingly blasé mask now, but that stricken expression had been real. Kell shrugged it off. The knowledge that Saeldian was actually capable of regret wasn’t enough of a surprise to matter.
He gave his ex-partner one final baleful stare. “Let’s go, Lorzok.”
“I don’t want to say this,” Saer Briona interrupted, voice dangerously soft, “but if you walk out that door, there won’t be anywhere you can run.”
The Zhentarim had waited so long to collect on the debt Kellowed for his life that he’d nearly forgotten about it. He shouldn’t have. Kell didn’t want to settle that old debt this way. But if he refused, the price would be the last thing he ever paid.
But here in Waterdeep, of all places? What did Saer Briona expect him to step into in exchange for that favor? It wasn’t like any of the others could have escaped without his help. But that didn’t matter. Kell owed them his life, and he’d forgotten that they owned it.
“Then let him stay,” Saeldian’s voice cut in. “We will let him get all the rewards.”
No. Not their pity. Never that.“Fuck you, Saeldian. Don’t do me any favors.”
“Kell,” Lorzok said, and his surprise colored his tone. “Do you know this elf? Sorry, elf-human, right?”
Saeldian gave Lorzok a curt nod and never took their eyes off Kell.
Fair. Kell wouldn’t take his eyes off someone with reason for revenge either. “A long time ago, I thought I did.”
“Oh,” Lorzok said, now understanding. “This is the Saeldian who betrayed you, back when you were a criminal.”
The tiefling’s—Jubilee’s—jaw dropped. Saeldian’s soft brown cheeks flushed with offense. Kell didn’t care. “That’s them.”
“And so they are the reason you owe the Zhentarim your life.”
“Correct again.”
