Anger burst in Toran’s ears at Fell’s derogatory mention of Loriana. But he refused to let it slip. He kept his tone low, his voice hesitant. “Actually, Fell, I need your help.”
“Finally decided you’re out of your depth?”
Beside him, Nes snorted. He wasn’t sure if she was laughing at him or Fell.
Toran dipped his chin. “You’re right. She’s the Witch, and you’re the expert.” Any other time he would have instantly regretted such words. To stroke the older man’s ego was to tie yourself to a chair—you weren’t escaping his grandstanding anytime soon. But a bit of Fell’s grandstanding was exactly what they needed right now.
Fell grinned, wide and triumphant. “Tell me what you know.”
Toran glanced around the crowded square. “Not here.”
“I know a place,” Nes said, and before Fell could protest, she strode off.
He and Fell followed her as she cut down a side street in the Gash and led them to a bright red door. A bell overhead rang out their entry, the sound cheery, but no one in the small café looked up to see who’d joined them.
There was a table with four chairs sequestered in the back corner, and Nes gestured for them to sit there while she went to the counter for drinks. Toran reached into his pocket for a few coins to give her, only to find it empty. He patted both pants pockets, finding nothing but himself beneath the fabric.
Over her shoulder, Nes threw him that wicked smile and held up three gadots between her fingers. His gadots. When had she—
“So talk,” Fell said as he propped his boots up on the empty chair.
“We know what she wants,” Toran said.
Fell scoffed. “That’s nothing. She’s the Witch. Everyone knows what she wants. It’s the same thing she always wants. To destroy us, to take control of the land, for magic to be law.”
“Not this Witch. We think she wants something else.”
Fell raised a brow. “Oh? Then do tell, what does she want?”
“You.”
Nes slammed a cup of coffee down in front of Fell so hard liquid sloshed over the rim. It ran across the surface of the table, an arrow aimed at Fell. Curses dirtied their table as he scrambled back and grabbed a napkin to wipe up the spill before it could reach his pristine uniform.
Toran couldn’t help but notice the contrast with which Nes moved as she carefully handed him his own cup before settling into the seat beside him. He watched her for a second as Fell mopped up the coffee. Over the rim of her cup, she winked at him. He swallowed back his grin before Fell could see.
“We think she wants revenge,” Toran said.
Fell looked up at him. “You think she wants revenge on me? It’s a bit of a stretch, but I suppose it’s possible. I did kill her predecessor.”
“Not for that,” Nes bit out. “For something more recent.”
Fell frowned but did not look Nes’s way. “Like what?”
Toran pulled his hand from under the table to lay it flat on top. “Tell me what happened on your mission up north.” He took his hand back, revealing one of the guard’s coins. It sat on the table between them like a cup of poison.
Fell’s gaze shifted between him and the tabletop. “What do I want with a coin?”
“It belonged to one of your legion members,” he said. “Gael Sussek, who died on your recent mission.”
Fell reached for the coin but stopped himself, withdrawing his hand. “Where did you get this?”
“She left it,” Nes said.
Toran kept still as he watched Fell. “We need to know what happened. Captain Fell, please.”
Fell’s hand clenched into a fist beside his coffee cup. “It was a lot like your mission to Aeos, Roada.”
His gut twisted. Toran had handpicked his legion. The First Legion. The best of the best. But the guards he’d picked to join him on the mission hadn’t just been his comrades—they’d been his friends. And he’d led them to the Tordaza palace like pigs to slaughter.
