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“I can touch whom I wish.”

I reached across the table and grabbed the wrist of the hand gripping Rue. “Last chance,” I warned.

Yurtin spat in my face, so I squeezed.

He screamed and released Rue’s wrist as he tried to pull his arm free. Rue stumbled to the side, bumping against the next table. I waited until she gained enough distance before I yanked the man to his feet by his arm and dragged him through the tavern and out the door, throwing him into the dirt outside.

“Hey!” he yelled.

“You are no longer welcome in the Hart and Hare.” I informed him. “If I see your face anywhere on this property, I will do far worse than throw you in the dirt.” Then, turning my back on him, I strode back inside and scanned the room for Rue.

Three farmers bent over their meals along the wall all turned toward me. “About time someone took out the trash.” The eldest, a white-haired old man with more hair than teeth, waved an empty spoon at me. “That boy is trouble—has been since he first showed up and hired on with Williams. ‘Bout time someone put him in his place.”

“In the dirt,” his friend, a bald man, added with a grin.

“So morbid,” the third one commented before he shoveled more food into his mouth.

“Not what I meant,” the bald man protested.

The third shrugged. “You should’ve specified.”

“Where did Rue go?” I asked. The trio were the only customers left, and Misha and Rue were missing.

“No!” Misha’s voice carried clearly from the kitchen. “Stop being a coward, Rue. You have a job to do. Get back out there!”

Something crashed.

“Out!” the cook bellowed. “Both of you get out!”

The kitchen door swung open, and Misha dragged Rue out into the common room, shoving her toward the tables in the center.

Tapping into my fae speed, I caught Rue around her torso, guiding her momentum around until she stood behind me as I turned to face Misha.

“That was uncalled for.”

Misha sneered. “What? She refuses to work, the lazy, slovenly brat!”

“When did she not work? I have yet to see her not working.”

“She keeps coming into the kitchen and whining about not wanting to serve Yurtin. As though we get to pick and choose those we serve.”

“I didn’t.” Rue’s soft voice came from behind me. She stepped around me to meet Misha’s glare. She cradled her injured wrist against her middle with her other arm. “I only said that Yurtin left.”

“Without paying?” Misha’s hands settled on her hips. “Master Hobb will dock your pay. You will be lucky if he doesn’t fire you as well. You know he hates giving away free meals.”

“No,” I interjected. “The cost will be coming out of my pay, not Rue’s, since I was the one who banned the man.”

“Banned?” Misha’s expression soured. “You have no right to ban regulars.”

“Master Hobb hired me to keep order in the tavern and protect his employees. Yurtin inflicted harm on one of Hobb’s employees. His ejection and barring from return is well within my authority.”

“For an accident?” Misha asked incredulously. “Really, I wouldn’t believe the brat. She is always making up stories.” With a roll of her eyes, she turned away and started toward the table where the farmers still lingered watching the drama with interest. “Anything more I can get you?” she asked sweetly.

“Two-faced hussy,” the white-haired farmer muttered beneath his breath as he leaned over his meal.

“More cider,” the bald one told Misha while the third waved her off.

Satisfied that the trio would behave, I turned to Rue. “Let me see your hand.”