“Both,” he decides.
Well, looks like he got me. So, I reach down, pulling out a leather pouch that I keep inside my pants.
The ogre doesn’t even look the least perturbed that I just plucked a pouch of gold from my ass.
No. All he wants is his money.
When he gets his payment, he pulls the knife from my sleeve, and when I spy the tear in the leather, Itsk. “This was my best coat.”
“Get lost!”
Finally, I move towards Ivy, but then I stop, having yet another brilliant idea.
Stannog curses when I return to the bar, and someone’s certainly very cranky. “I thought I told ye ter get lost!”
I purse my lips. “You know, you really ought to brush up on those customer service skills, Stan. As a punter, I don’t feel valued.”
His eyes pop menacingly. Not a fan of sarcasm, I see.
I extend a finger at Ivy. “See that female there?”
The ogre follows the direction of my finger, a deep growl thundering in his chest. “Yes. What were ye thinking, bringing the likes of herhere? Ye may as well just serve her up on a platter and be done with it. These bastards are lethal.” He tips his head at the bar patrons.
I wave him off. “She’ll be fine.” I throw her a cursory glance, checking if she really is fine. She’s still pissed that I’ve abandoned her, and her disappointment in me is almost palpable.
I point at Stannog next, mimicking a gabbing mouth with my hand, and she shakes her head. Another one who’s not a fan of sarcasm, and I return my attention to Stannog. “Am I right in assuming that Bannog has contacts inside the king’s court?”
King Corvis has many glamoured Fae at his court. It’s how he makes himself and his courtiers appear human to the rest of the kingdom.
“Aye. That he does.”
The ogre seems proud of that fact. Most Fae respect and follow the king. After all, he managed to trick a whole nation of gullible humans into believing that he was human, too.
Well, there’s some truth to the lie. King Corvis was the illegitimate child of the former king, borne of a Fae mother, and his rise to power is an admirable tale—faerie bards will be singing about his exploits for years to come.
I can still feel Ivy’s gaze. Something akin to shame flushes down my neck and spine, but I push the sensation aside, looking the ogre straight in the eye.
It must be done. If Ivy won’t tell me what happened to her, then I’ll find out through other means.
“I’m looking for information. About an event that happened in a place called Charstown.” I read Ivy’s letter when I first brought her to the mountain. The one written by her dear mother.
It seemed she didn’t leave by her own choice after all. Something happened to her back at home, and I bet it has to do with the king.
Stannog nods his head at Ivy. “It got anything to do with the girl?”
My words turn to ash in my mouth, and I lose my silver tongue.
I think I’ve just tossed Ivy to the wolves. If word gets out that she’s hiding with me, then she’s dead.
King Corvis is a merciless despot.
Stannog heaves a gritty sigh. “I won’t say nothin.’”
Well, then, in that case, “No. It has nothing to do with her whatsoever.”
The ogre sees through the lie, one that will cost me my soul, no doubt. I’ve known him for five years; he would sooner stab you in the front than the back, but I won’t take any chances.
Ivy’s secrets die with me.
