Page 12 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

“We all do.” Finn bumps my shoulder.

Chapter 3

Gemira

The smell of lemon oil and yeast hangs in the air, and I let it wash over me. Fletcher’s at the bar, coaxing the old wood to a near gleam with a rag, humming a melody off-key to himself.

Daylight changes everything in The Barrel. I can move through the work without being noticed, which is exactly the point. But Fletcher’s taken it a step further today, latching the front windows and pulling the heavy shutters down despite the spring heat. He’s still rattled from last night, and I don’t blame him.

I thud the crate down on the bar harder than I mean to, my leg aching with the wound still too fresh to ignore.

“Careful, Gemmy.” Fletcher doesn’t look up from the glass he’s started polishing. “You break one of those, and I’m docking whatever you’ve been stealing from my kitchen.”

I heft another crate. Fletch takes full advantage, rounding the bar while my hands are full, snatching the plate I’d hidden behind the bottles with a triumphant look. Apple turnover, crumbs and all.

“Too sweet for you, huh?” He leans back against the bar with a smug grin. “What else have you changed your mind on? Finally going to let me take you out?”

Heat moves through me. One wrong detail, that’s all it ever takes.

“You’re relentless.” I shake my head, forcing a smile. “So, tonight, what’s the plan?”

“Tonight?” His brows lift. “I knew you’d come around.”

“The job, Fletch.” A laugh slips out as I nudge his shoulder. “Tell me about the job.”

“All right, all right.” He raises his hands in surrender, still grinning. “You know Bree? One of my waitresses?”

“The one who tethered herself to that drunk? And willed three children with him?”

“That’s the one.” Fletch’s grin fades. “She finally kicked him out, and somehow, he’s worse now. But he’ll be collecting bonuses from extra trial shifts. And no doubt he’ll be in tonight, flush, loud, and acting like the place belongs to him,” he says with his jaw tightening.

“And spending it on ale, cards, and hired company, while his kids go hungry. Seems a shame to let all that coin go to waste,” I say conspiratorially.

Fletcher’s grin returns. “Exactly.”

“But he’s a regular.” I hesitate. “He might recognize me.”

Heat crawls up my spine at the word recognize.

“Way ahead of you, Gemmy.” Fletcher spreads his arms wide. “We’re throwing a trial celebration tonight, right here at The Mossy Barrel. A shifter-themed costume night with masks required.”

He pauses, eyebrows raised, waiting. A giggle slips out of me before I can stop it. Tides, he looks so pleased with himself.

“That’s actually brilliant.”

“Plus,” he adds, winking, “when the girls dress up, the coins flow even easier. I’ve already got vendors lined up outside, with masks, accessories, the works.”

“All right,” I say, already heading for the door. “I’d better get a costume together.”

“Nothing too revealing, Gemmy,” he calls after me. “You know my heart can’t take it. Not on top of your constant rejection.”

The bell chimes as I push through. I glance back just long enough to see him clutch his chest with a mock swoon.

I pause just inside the doorway, listening, before stepping out. The warm afternoon light greets me on the street. Somewhere overhead, a bird trills, bright and free, but I don’t look for it.

Time to find a costume, a mask, and then disappear.

Chapter 4