Aksell’s lips set in a thin line, while mine grow into a wide grin. I’m gonna enjoy this.
“Ten, nine, eight …”
“You wouldn’t dare.” His voice is shrill, desperate.
“Seven, six, five, four …”
“I’m a powerful man.”
“Three, two …”
“Fine, stop.” His tone is angry now, defiant. “It’s in that closet, on the left side at the back.” His chin is pointing to a set of doors on one side of his room but his gaze never leaves me.
“Wise move.” Pulling ropes from my pack, I bind him to the bed as Liv pulls a skintight dress over her head and shrugs it around her curves. When I’m done, I step back to double-check the view I’m leaving for his maid, then stride over to the closet to find Bevin’s package. It’s exactly where Aksell said it would be.
Smiling my thanks, I capture Aksell’s gaze. “I’m taking this to Bevin. He’ll be very angry if you tell anyone I was here.” That should keep him quiet; few people in this town are willing to risk Bevin’s wrath. “You asked her to do this,” I warn as I gesture at the ropes, “so she did. Now be a good boy and stay quiet while we leave.” Pausing, I glance over at Liv. May as well help protect her cover while I’m here. “Oh, and I’m gonna take her with me.”
“I can’t go to Bevin. He’ll hurt me.” Liv’s voice barely reaches my ears. She’s a good actress. Aksell tenses, a sneer teasing at his lips as his gaze bounces between Liv and me. He probably believes she’s terrified.
“Not if you come without a fight. Bevin will just want to talk. Make sure you understand why you can’t say anything about what just happened.” I turn to Aksell. “He still might hurt you for getting involved in this,” I say as I wave the satchel at him, adding a threatening laugh that always makes my marks nervous. “Or he might not. That’s up to Bevin.”
“You won’t get away with this.” His voice warbles with anger. I’ve made a dangerous enemy today. Thankfully, Bevin’s more dangerous.
“I work for Bevin,” I remind him as I shove a gag into his mouth and lift his head to tie it. “He decides who gets away with what. If you have a problem with me taking this,” I add as I grab the satchel, “talk to him. But if you’re a smart man. You’ll let this go.”
Grasping Liv’s hand, I drag her toward the door and down the hall. We barely make it out of the house unnoticed. Twice, we’re forced to scramble around a corner to avoid one of the cooks walking toward the kitchen. But we find our way out without being caught and are heading to Bevin’s home before the sun starts to lift over the horizon. Bevin will be up—he doesn’t sleep much—but it’s too early for him to be in his office.
“Why did Bevin send you to Aksell?” I ask once we’re a half-viku or so away from Aksell’s home. “I only found out last night that he had the satchel and I hadn’t reported that yet.”
“I wasn’t there for the satchel,” Liv explains as she strides along beside me. “Bevin’s still got me working for Ulfhild. She sent me to Aksell.”
“Why?” Ulfhild runs the most exclusive—and expensive—brothel in Revalle, which means she’s well connected. I’ve been watching her for a while.
Liv turns to me, eyebrows rising into her forehead. “Come on, Sifa. I can’t tell you. If Bevin wants you to have that information, he’ll give it to you.”
I know but it never hurts to ask. We’re quiet as we stroll to Bevin’s home, not familiar enough with each other to make small talk. The morning is beautiful, still holding the overnight cool. Revalle’s days can be unbearably hot this time of year. Although we arrive at Bevin’s house early, a maid ushers us in without hesitation. Bevin’s always available for business.
“I didn’t expect to see you two together.” Bevin’s voice carries a hint of surprise as we walk through his sitting room door.
I realized shortly after I met Bevin that he’s old, maybe even older than me, but he looks like a man in his forties. His black hair and beard have a spattering of gray running through them, like streams across the desert on a bright night. His flawless sunbaked skin, sharp chin, and silver eyes combine with a thick, muscle-bound physique to lend an overall look of cold cruelty. If we were close enough, I’d ask if he’s an elf, but we are not close. I work for him. Nothing more.
“We were just as surprised as you.” I choose the seat closest to Bevin as Liv nods her agreement and drops into an adjacent chair.
“And you were successful?” His gaze lands on the satchel at my feet for a moment and then shifts up. It moves more slowly than I’d like, lingering too long at my chest, but I’m used to that with Bevin.
“As requested.” I lift the satchel and hand it to him. “I tracked this to a man named Thrym.” Bevin’s eyes widen for a moment and then narrow again, but he doesn’t interrupt me. “Thrym had picked it up at Aksell’s request and gave it to him yesterday before I had a chance to get it from him. I went to Aksell this morning and found Liv there.”
Bevin nods, his long, dark beard shifting up and down with the slow movement. “Good work, Sifa.”
“Thank you. Am I done here?” Bevin holds information close to his vest. He can’t want me around for whatever Liv plans to tell him.
“No.” Bevin’s response is sharp. “I’ve been considering sending you with Liv. Perhaps the gods are giving me a nudge. Let’s see what she has to say.” His gaze finds Liv’s. “Is Aksell more than a client to Ulfhild?” His voice is now a harsh rasp.
“Much more.” Her hand drops to rub her thigh—a gesture Bevin notices, his eyes narrowing—and I wonder how she feels about continuing to work for Ulfhild. She’d been a bedmate for months before Bevin started giving her jobs. Perhaps she’s ready to spend less time on her back and more on her feet.
“Aksell’s become frustrated in recent months with his wife’s limit on his spending. He’s started making money in less legal ways. Ulfhild wonders how loyal he is to the Dróttning—or if he’s started to sell parts of himself to others. She wants me to find out how deep he’s gotten into whoever or whatever’s funding him.”
I’m not surprised. Aksell loves money and status, and rumors are he had none in his youth. He found an heiress to marry and clawed his way into the overseers’ numbers through her wealth and means. If he’s not getting what he wants from his wife, he’ll find it elsewhere.
