He tapped the spoon against his head again, this time demonstrating his own great wit as he worked his breakfast into his scalp.
“We need to be one step ahead, gents, it’s the only way.”
Across from me, Sorcha was circling closer and closer to Fischer; she had gone white as a sheet, the colour entirely drained from her sweet round face. I gripped the handle of my teapot tighter, and kept my eyes on her as we moved in tandem round the table. The basket was trembling in her hands when she eventually arrived at Fischer’s side and quietly offered him a breadroll.
He glanced up from his foul pontificating, and did a double take at Sorcha’s beautiful, fear-struck face – then slowly down the length of her body. I set down my teapot between two soldiers,limbs coiling tight in anticipation of whatever awful thing was about to happen. Fischer’s lips curled back even further, the sneer growing to a predatory snarl.
“None for me, sweetheart.” He dropped his voice, though not low enough. “See some other rolls I’d like to get my hands on though.”
Though he didn’t make a move toward her, Sorcha stepped quickly out of his reach, smart girl that she was. Brennan shot to his feet, eyes burning, jaw working with whatever words he was poised to spit – but my own words came faster.
“Speak to her like that again,” I said, each syllable smouldering with barely contained fury, “and I swear to the Dagda I’ll make you regret it.”
Fischer froze in his seat. His beady eyes swivelled to mine and he took me in for a moment, perhaps assessing what damage I, an unarmed tavern wench in a corset and apron, might exact on the likes of him. Deep in the distant confines of my chest, my Flame crackled at the challenge. But he just offered up an oily chuckle; this time, not a single soldier echoed him, awkwardly or otherwise.
“Just being friendly,” he said, raising his hands in mock defense.
I returned his sneer with one of my own.
“You were being vile. If I hear it again,” I said sweetly, tilting my head, “perhaps I’ll try cutting outyourtongue. Since you seem to believe it’s so effective.”
This time, someone did laugh.
I whipped around, heart in my throat and my Flame choosing that exact moment to rear its head from the dark depths. The Captain leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad body and a smile still lingering on his lips.
“Well, that’soneway to greet your guests in the morning.”
I struggled with my writhing Flame for a moment longer before the Captain winked at me and I realised I’d been vacantly staring at him. I blinked, straightened at once and turned on my heel, snatching up the teapot and filling the next soldier’scup before he could tell me if he even wanted tea.
Sorcha tentatively moved around Fischer’s chair and offered her basket to the next man, round blue eyes darting to Fischer, to me, to the Captain behind me. Oblivious, the Captain strolled to the head of the table and dropped into his seat with a long-suffering sigh.
He steepled his hands on the table and drawled; “Do I want to know what you’ve done to offend our charming host, Fisch?”
Fischer stuffed his mouth full of porridge, and snarled something incoherent into his bowl.
The Captain’s mouth curled, beard bristling. “Right then.”
He leaned back and let his stern gaze sweep over the table as a whole.
“Let’s begin today’s briefing, shall we? I suppose we’ll start with the obvious. Our shapeshifter could be anyone, anywhere, at any time.”
Another teacup in my hand, I braced against the cold thrill that rolled down my spine. Not at the prospect of a shapeshifter in our midst, but at the dark grumble that rose among the Kingsmen at their Captain’s warning. Sorcha met my eye briefly before we both glanced away, not a flicker of reaction between us – though that in itself was a challenge. My Flame warred in my chest with the cold flood of fear that had taken root, and that battle raged more fiercely the closer I drew to the Captain. There were only two teacups left to fill before I reached him. My lungs were on the brink of collapse, each breath tight and searing.
“We’ll call on each local residence and begin the first stage of interviews –”
I dragged in a breath and grappled at my Flame, clutching inwardly with everything I had.Calm,I told it,please stay calm.Then I stepped up to the Captain’s side and reached for his cup, willing my hand not to tremble as the tea streamed and pooled.
“That’s plenty, Rosaleen, thank you.”
I’d filled it just over halfway when the warmth of his hand settled, light but firm, on my forearm – and my magiclungedat my ribs.Burning breath sawed through me in a near-silent gasp,and I set the cup down with a clatter, backing away with my knuckles taut around the pot handle.
I didn’t dare look at the Captain, but I swore I felt the curious brush of his eyes on me – and the weight of a few others, too. Perhaps my gasp had not been silent after all.
“Call if you need more tea,” I said numbly. “Or… bread.”
And with that, I hurried around the table, catching Sorcha by the elbow as I went, and dragging her from the room. In the tavern, neither of us spoke until we had ducked behind the bar and tucked ourselves into the farthest corner – and even then, Sorcha’s voice was a strained hush.
“What wasthatabout?”
