“Laertiez’s men are stretched thin,” she says, voice crisp. “But not blind. You being here… it’s already stirred the pot.”
“Let it boil,” River says.
Skeela raises an eyebrow. “Careful. It’s not just your skin that’ll blister.”
She tosses a small pouch onto the moss-covered stone beside her. It jingles softly—metal against metal.
“Bribes,” she explains. “To keep certain guards from talking too fast.”
River steps forward, opens the pouch. Gold. Not much, but enough to make a coward think twice.
“Why?” she asks. “Why help us?”
Skeela lifts her chin. “Because I’m tired of licking the boots of men I could gut in my sleep.”
My brows lift. Well, damn.
River studies her. “So this is ambition.”
Skeela nods. “Call it what it is. I want Laertiez out. You want change. We’re not enemies—yet.”
She glances my way again. “But he’s a wild card. That worries me.”
“Good,” I say.
This time, she actually smiles.
“Fine. I can work with dangerous.”
River tucks the pouch into her coat. “Where and when?”
Skeela turns. Points to the far edge of the garden, where the wall crumbles into an alley.
“Tomorrow night. Same time. West gate of the barracks. I’ll have two guards with me. You’ll have one shot to hear what I have planned. After that…”
Her gaze hardens. “You’re either allies or ashes.”
River nods.
Skeela doesn’t say goodbye. Just picks up her helmet, slips it under her arm, and disappears into the shadows like she was never there.
We’re alone again.
“She’s colder than I expected,” River says.
I hum. “I like her.”
“Of course you do.”
“She’s got fire under the frost.”
“She’s dangerous.”
“So are you.”
She doesn’t argue.
I look down at her, watch the way moonlight slips over her cheekbones, catches in her lashes.
