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“We can’t use him,” I say after leaning in toward Temra.
“Do you see any other options?”
But he’s going to remember me, and it’s going to be awkward and—
For Temra, I have to do this.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go talk to him.”
Temra gives me an irritated glance. I think she’s upset over how I chastised her for sneaking out. As ifI’mthe one in the wrong here. “You can’t just walk up to someone like that, Ziva. We need to wait for the right moment.”
I watch as Kellyn raises a cup to his lips and throws his head back. Half the contents spill down either side of his face.
“He’s drunk!” I exclaim.
“Of course he is. This is a tavern.”
“And this is a terrible idea.”
We watch as one of the men seated next to the mercenarysays something, the sound lost in the cacophony of other voices. But whatever he said Kellyn doesn’t like, because he tosses his tankard right at the man’s face.
“Oh dear,” Temra says.
The man opposite Kellyn draws his blade and tries to skewer the mercenary to his chair. Kellyn dodges just in time, finding his feet.
While the other man advances, coming around the table, Kellyn picks up the chair he just vacated and crashes it onto the man’s head.
That gets the attention of the rest of the tavern. People turn in their seats to get a better look. Cheers go up as drunken men and women encourage the fighters.
Kellyn doesn’t touch his weapon as the other man starts slashing at him like mad. He dodges and punches. Then, in a swift move, he disarms the other man, grabs him by the back of his shirt, and rams his head into the table, rendering him unconscious.
As the crowd cheers, Kellyn reaches over to his enemy’s mug, raises it into the air in a salute to the room, and downs it in one go.
“Now,” Temra says.
“Now what?”
“Now is the time to talk to him.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere near him!”
“What choice do we have?”
None. We have none.
Resigning myself to my fate, I follow Temra toward the big brute. She’s careful to put herself directly in his line of sight.
“It’s Kellyn, isn’t it?” she asks, putting on a bright smile. She uses the tone I recognize as her “flirty voice.”
“It is,” he says, hailing down a serving girl for another glass of mead.
“I’m Temra,” she says, sitting in the chair right beside him.
I panic for a moment. Should I stay back as Temra’s shadow? No, I can’t let her do this alone. Steeling my courage, I take the seat vacated by Kellyn’s opponent, the one right across from him.
Kellyn’s eyes fix on me, and I try desperately not to squirm in my seat.
“Don’t I know you?”
