Page 109

Chapter Thirty-Six

Agnar

The next bout lasts three minutes. My opponent is all flash, spinning his sword like he learned combat from a traveling show instead of actual warfare.

I let him tire himself out like I would with a toddler. Then I step inside his guard and put him on his back with a single punch. I could have destroyed him even earlier, but I like to mix things up, to keep my audience on their toes.

The crowd cheers as the official raises my arm in victory.

The noise follows me through the corridors, muffled by stone walls that smell like sweat and old blood.

Esme is nowhere to be found.

I check the barracks first. Our quarters are empty, Esme’s pack sitting where she left it.

The training yards are bustling with fighters drilling, sparring, or showing off as I scour for the cap she wears as part of her squire disguise.

Then Esme’s bright, clear laugh cuts through the din from somewhere to my left.

Following the sound takes me somewhere I’d never have thought to look. The tavern is smaller than the food halls, tucked into a corner of the grounds where guards and staff gather when they’re off duty. A repurposed tent, the walls and ceiling are constructed of dyed cotton, which holds the stink of ale and piss in.

Esme sits at a corner table with a palace guard. As soft and clean-shaven as he is, and with those perfect creases in his uniform, there’s no way he’s anything less than a palace dolly. On top of that, he’s got the kind of face that’s never missed a meal or worried for his life. My stomach sours at the sight of them together.

The guard hunches forward, one elbow on the table as he gestures with his cup in a way that suggests this is not his first. Or his second.

Esme leans in, too, smiling. Her hand rests on the table between them, close enough that their fingers almost touch.

Hot, vicious jealousy coils in my chest. Every dark emotion I try to keep bottled rumbles to the top, demanding I tear the dolly apart.

I storm over to her table. “There you are.”

Esme’s head snaps up as I arrive, her eyes widening in a perfect imitation of someone caught doing something they shouldn’t. “I…sir, I was just⁠—”

I bend down, the wood creaking under the pressure I exert when I brace my hands on the table. “Just what? Just drinking instead of tending your knight’s gear? Just making friends when you should be sharpening swords?”

The guard tries to straighten but fails and instead settles for an indignant look. “Now see here⁠—”

I ignore him. He’s so far below my notice, he might as well be a bug I crush under my heel. “I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to my squire who’s shirking her duties to day drink. Get up. Now.”

She scrambles to her feet, ducking her head in that way she’s been practicing. Subservient. Properly chastised. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

I pivot and walk out.

Outside, I lead us away from the main flow of traffic and toward the stables, where the smell of hay and horse covers everything else. Then I round on Esme, anger thundering in my stomach. “What the fuck was that?”

Her submissive posture drops like a discarded cloak. Esme straightens to meet my eyes with smug satisfaction. “That was intelligence gathering.”

Likely story. “That was you getting drunk with some baby-faced guard⁠—”

“Who was stationed in the prize room.” She hovers a finger by my face, forestalling my rant. “And I’m not drunk. He was. Four cups in, and he couldn’t stop talking about his very important job guarding the very important artifact.”

My anger begins to fade, but I cling to it a little longer to save face. “What did you learn?”

She ticks points off on her fingers. “Since they’re powered by the sun, those crystal-locks on the vault weaken after sunset.”

Ok, fine. That’s a good piece of information. I motion for Esme to continue, the gesture sharp as I struggle to tamp down the rage the sight of the two of them stoked in me. She adds a finger. “Each night, there are two patrol rotations. Guards change at midnight. The magical creatures are called amphipteres. They’re aggressive to strangers but docile to anyone wearing palace livery.

“He was about to tell me about a service entrance when you showed up and dragged me out like some—” She stops and takes a breath to calm herself. “So yes, I was drinking with a guard. Because that guard had intel we need, and he was drunk enough to share it.”