Page 31

The innkeeper straightens, his smile broad but brittle at the edges.

“Morning,” he greets, his voice a touch louder than before. “What can I do for you?”

“Calda, for starters,” says a man with a scar running down his cheek, stepping forward. “And some information, if you’ve got it.”

The innkeeper nods, moving to fill their cups. “Depends on the information,” he says carefully.

I fix my gaze on the empty bowl in front of me as the scarred man leans on the bar.

“We’re on business for the king of Eretria,” he says, his tone carrying the weight of authority. “Looking for a man and a woman. Pale hair, both. Have they passed through here?”

My blood runs cold, but I force myself to remain still, my cup pausing only briefly before I pretend to take another sip.

Thank the gods Lyxander and I are still wearing our disguises.

“Can’t say I’ve seen anyone like that,” the innkeeper says. “But travelers come and go, even if it’s only every now and again. Hard to keep track.”

“We’ll take a morning meal, then.” The scarred man mutters something else to his companions as the innkeeper steps away, and they move to a table in the corner, their conversation dropping to a murmur.

I exhale slowly, but the tension does not ease.

King Daedalus is looking for us. But why? The king hadn’t seemed involved in Keres’s schemes. From what I witnessed when Raven and I snuck into the royal chambers, the relationship between father and son was vitriolic. He had even appeared frail behind closed doors. Even if he had recovered and they had mended that divide, how did they know to look for us in the north?

A presence sidles closer in my periphery, and I will my shoulders not to stiffen.

“Traveling alone?” an oily voice says.

I glance up, forcing a polite smile at a wiry man with a crooked grin.

His eyes rake over me with a familiarity that makes my skin crawl.

“No. My husband’s just stepped out.”

“Ah,” he says, his grin widening. “Lucky man. You don’t mind if I keep you company, do you?”

“I’m finished with my meal, but thank you.” I push my bowl away and rise to leave.

Before I can take a step, his hand shoots out, gripping my wrist.

“Now, don’t be rude,” he says, his fingers tightening like iron bands around my arm. “We’re just talking.”

The room seems to tilt, the pressure of his grip trying to drag me back to memories that are still too fresh after last night. I clench my free hand, crushing the urge to reach for my dagger.

“I’d appreciate it if you let go,” I say, softening my tone. “I don’t want any trouble.”

I offer him a smile, one I save for moments like these when letting my blade speak isn’t exactly an option.

“No bite?” The man’s grin widens. “What a shame.”

“She bites. Now take your hand off my wife, or I will too.”

The voice rolls through the room like thunder, and my eyes snap up.

Lyxander stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders seeming to fill the entire frame. The fury rolling off him is visible in the sharp line of his jaw and the golden fire in his gaze.

The mercenary releases me, his grin faltering as he lurches away. “Apologies,” he mumbles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t mean any harm.”

Lyxander strides across the room to my side. The heat of his hand hovers at my lower back, but the touch doesn’t land.