A heavy weight settled inside my chest. He looked like me two years ago. Waiting to be tossed out, hoping to find pity at the end of someone else’s blade.
“We should have come here sooner,” I said, watching as the man fumbled for his mug. He spilled more ale than he drank, the liquid drenching the papers scattered across the table.
“I know. We should have done a lot of things differently.”
The man rubbed his bleary eyes as we approached, gathering his notes into a messy pile as we settled into the chairs across from him.
“Hey, Reid,” I said, waving away the barmaid who’d sidled up to the table.
“Gavin? Bowen? Is that really you?” Before the barmaid could act, Reid slammed his palm onto the table. “A round formy friends! We used to be the best treasure-hunting crew in all the kingdoms!”
Bowen shook his head, and the barmaid listened, weaving between the tables to give us space.
“Why did you do that? I could’ve used some more.” He squinted into the bottom of his mug. “Damn thing is always empty.”
Reid’s hair was long and greasy, his clothes ripped and stained, hanging loose on his rangy frame. The spectacles he wore had a thin crack running through one of the lenses. The overly starched, sharp scholar was long gone. All that was left were his research and a pen sitting in a pot of ink.
I ran a hand over my jaw. I didn’t need to ask why. Regret was the only thing still living inside this man.
“How long has it been?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
“A long time,” Bowen said. “What have you been up to?”
“Oh, you know, this and that. I write for the Gazette now. It's a living—barely,” he muttered, jabbing his thumb onto his stack of papers. “I’m working on a new feature. I’ve got the pulse of these streets, and my next story is going to be huge. They can't stop me from revealing the truth.”
I glanced at his papers, then around the tavern, unease tensing the muscles in my shoulders. Reid must have been too drunk to notice the man in the shadows who hadn’t taken his eyes off us since we sat down. I nudged Bowen’s chair with my foot and angled my head.
“Yeah, I see him,” Bowen murmured. “Let’s wrap this up and get him out of here.”
Reid tossed back the rest of his drink. “Leave? But you just arrived, and you haven’t mentioned why you’re here. Are you planning another hunt?” His voice dropped low, heavy withinterest.
“No. Not another hunt. We’re here because Marin’s back,” I gauged his reaction. “She’s not dead.”
Reid flinched, and his pallid skin lost the last of its color.
“How is that possible? It’s been years. All this time I thought I’d…” His eyes lost their focus as he trailed off. Reid’s head lolled to the side, and his words slurred. “I never should have listened to that witch.”
My fingers clenched into fists, and I forced them under the table. Reid was my friend. He was one of us. But I feared that wouldn’t be enough to hold me back.
“What did you do, Reid?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice even. “On the ship, and before that, in the treasure chamber?”
Reid rocked forward, the heels of his hands pressing into his temples. “The witch promised me no one would get hurt. But I knew better.”
I swallowed hard, fingers digging into my thighs.
Bowen’s hand rested on Reid’s shoulder. “Tell us what happened. We’re not here to punish you. We only want the truth.”
“Punish me?” Reid’s voice cracked. “You couldn’t, possibly. Marin was my friend, and I betrayed her for information. Words! I killed Marin for a story.”
The air shuddered out of my lungs. “Start from the beginning.”
Reid’s face contorted, but he nodded. “That night you paid the witch for the map, I saw you leave her room. She wanted you to stay, offering you more than just the map, but you pushed her away. It was stupid, but I was jealous. A beautiful woman like that, and you didn’t even want her.”
I stiffened. I remembered him too, the glint of his spectaclesin the candlelight, the way he lingered by the stairs.
I'd seen Reid.
But I'd been too busy thinking about finding Marin. Maybe getting a drink, maybe just walking the night market before we set off for the cavern in the morning.
