Page 47 of Bride of Ash & Dust

I let my knees collapse, dragging Petrys down with me. He twists as we fall. My shoulder hits the ground, hard, and I gasp. He releases me.

“Not bad,” Petrys says as he stands up and dusts off his pants. “But that move ends with your attacker on top of you. Next time, dig your feet into the ground and see if you can fall backward. Try to knock me off-balance first. And try to land on top.”

He leans over me and offers me his hand. There’s a strange expression on his face, almost like he’s trying to hide a smile, and once again I’m reminded of the snake.

“Come on,” Petrys says. “Let’s try again.”

I groan, then take his hand and let the man who is apparently a friend of my husband pull me to my feet. My shoulder aches. From behind Petrys, I see Alia sitting on a log with her flask. She waves at me. I scowl.

“What kind of present is this?” I grumble.

Petrys laughs.

And then he lunges forward and pins my arm behind my back again.

Chapter 26

Zarek

WHAT YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW

Petrys is waiting for me at our regular table in the pub. He raises an eyebrow over his mug of ale as I sit down.

“You have news?” I ask.

We meet every four days when I’m in town, but he’s not usually here before me. He must have something to report.

“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?” he replies.

I grit my teeth. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“You go first,” I say. “And I’ll buy the drinks.”

Petrys shrugs, but the grin doesn’t leave his face. It’s obvious how much he’s enjoying this. I want to ask him about Lilias so badly it aches, like a wound that refuses to heal. And from the look on his face, Petrys knows it.

“Well,” Petrys begins, “if there’s nothing else you want to ask me about…”

His voice trails off as he finishes his ale. My fingers tap against the table’s sticky surface, and my eyes drift to the booth in the back, where Lilias sat and slammed three mugs of bitter ale. I gave her a tour of the city while she sobered up somewhat, and as we walked together, she clung to my arm and laughed in a way that made my chest pinch. It was almost enough to make me feel like a different sort of man, living a different sort of life.

Petrys puts his mug down and clears his throat. His expression darkens.

“Syvan is coming back to the city,” he says.

“I know,” I reply.

I’m the one who fetched Malrik’s second son from the Devil’s Arse, as Petrys damn well knows. Petrys meets my gaze.

“Most of his troops aren’t,” he says.

That surprises me. My fingers freeze above the table. From the looks of the camp at the Arse, the entire battalion was moving out.

“Where are they going?” I ask.

Petrys shrugs. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. They’re splitting up into companies. And, Zarek?” He meets my gaze. “They’re moving to the west.”

“Shit,” I mutter. “Marion is to the west.”

Petrys nods. I remember what King Malrik said about demanding redress from the king of Marion. Was he going to use Syvan’s troops to back up that particular demand? If so, it seems a bit excessive. Moving troops to the border could be seen as a declaration of outright war.