“Aye.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Erik’s stationed here by their decree to watch us. Every shop and inn suffer their eyes.”
“Sheri, those mugs won’t clean themselves,” the innkeeper barked, using her ample hip to shove the girl away. Her glare cut straight to Ronan. “I don’t know what side ye’r on, but if ye bring trouble, I’ll have ye tossed into the street.”
She slammed our mugs down, warm mead sloshing across the table. A long second passed as she waited to see who would move first. Then she wiped her hands on her skirts and held one out. “Coin.”
Careful to keep my cloak closed tight, I eased four coppers from my purse. Gold would have been truer payment for her loyalty, but suspicion carried its own price.
She frowned at the coins, huffed, and returned to the hearth.
“Charming woman,” Ronan muttered, prodding the porridge with his spoon.
I stared into my bowl, thoughts spiraling. Where had Tallon found men to form his own guard? Had he killed Darius and claimed the Threshers?
That would require Nyryn’s blessing. I made certain the priests could never be bought. Elohios guide me, they wanted for nothing, and death was merely a doorway to them. For Nyryn to drag them back for vengeance—and for Tallon to hand them cause…
Breath stalled in my lungs.
Unless he used the Velli.
Horror and disbelief tangled as my jaw locked, my stomach twisting tight. No, he couldn’t have brought them this far west. The people would never tolerate it. Still—I had no desire to linger if even the slightest chance existed that Erik would return with something capable of scenting me out.
“We’re done.” My knees struck the back of the chair, shoving it away.
Ronan shot me a look of pure exasperation and snatched up his mead, draining it in long, gulping pulls. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, shouldered his pack, and shrugged. “Seems a waste,” he said.
Though lingering might prove to be far more wasteful. I would not have my mantle discovered by this so-called Black Guard. Radaan didn’t need to be reclaimed by force. There were paths through this mess that did not end in dragonfire.
The beasts were meant to be Radaan’s protectors, not its executioners.
I dipped my head to the scowling innkeeper and led Ronan back into the street. It bustled now, good folk finishing morning chores and heading for the markets. We merged into the flow, falling in behind two women deep in easy conversation.
“Who are the Black Guard?” he asked, leaning into me.
One of the ladies glanced back, her gaze skating over us before she tucked her dark hair beneath a straw hat.
“Mind your tongue,” I muttered.
He hummed, thoughtful, and said no more.
The question gnawed at me too, but answers would come at the market. There, bartering thrived on talk, and nothing loosened tongues faster than strangers and unrest.
A shiver traced my spine. The hairs on my nape lifted.
I made an effort to keep my breath even, then rounded a corner. Movement flickered at the edge of my vision.
Black leather armor.
The glimpse lasted only a heartbeat, offering nothing but a resemblance to Greaves’ gear. But Greaves stayed with Nienna. My hand slid beneath my cloak, settling on my sword’s hilt. Ronan caught the motion and shifted his pack, freeing his hands.
Our footsteps landed in an untroubled rhythm. Casual. Unhurried. Just two travelers headed for market. My ears strained for the echo behind us, a single set of boots keeping its distance.
Jaw tight, I turned another corner and folded into a thicker press of bodies. I tugged my hood lower and looked back.
A shadow slipped into a doorway.
We were being watched, and they knew we’d caught them.
Apparently, they had no desire to cause a scene charged with confrontation. Either their hold on Wellmoor remained tenuous, or they lacked certainty and waited for advantage.
