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“Sell it. Trade it. I don’t know. Whatever you like, I expect.”
“They’ll think I stole it. They’ll be questions.”
“I can’t help your neighbors’ distrustful natures. It’s all I have.”
“I knew it,” he answered as if she’d just confirmed his worst ideas about her. “What’s that? On your finger there.”
“This? A ring. It’s a bit stuck. I’ll need some grease.”
“I’ll take that for your doctor call.” She caught her hand to her chest. “You can’t have it. It’s not mine to give you.”
“Not yours? Stole it, did you? I knew it,” he repeated.
“It’s been in Lord Bligh’s family for generations. It’s quite dear.”
He grabbed her wrist, studying the ring. “A mite small, but my daughter’s wanting a bit of sparkle.”
She snatched her hand away. “I said it’s not part of the deal.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression hardening. “No ring, no doctor.”
Ellery thought of Conor upstairs. She thought of the battle at the cottage. The claws, the teeth, the weapons. And even if she didn’t carry the scars, she remembered the pain.
She fingered the hidden dagger. Who was she fooling? It would be like trying to fight a tiger with a table fork. Ellery made up her mind. It was the ring or her, and it wasn’t as if Conor’s sister was going to ask for it back.
She held out her hand to shake on it. “Very well. I’ll need some—”
Mr. Kay grabbed her by the wrist and with one painful wrench tore the ring from her.
“Grease,” she finished, rubbing her injured finger. “You could have given me a bit of warning. I use that hand.”
Her words trailed off as a shadow fell over both of them.
Chapter Ten
Mr. Kay glanced up.
A flash beyond Ellery’s right shoulder became the edge of a drawn sword, one she had last seen hanging in her room.
She wheeled around, coming nose to tattooed chest with Conor. Dark swirls of color stained his arms, his shoulders. Mage marks. According to her father, the signs of magic and power. Right now, Conor radiated both with enough force to knock her back on her heels.
“You stole it,” he said, his voice sharp as his blade and just as deadly. “You stole Ysbel’s ring.”
“Let me explain,” she started.
But he wasn’t looking at her. His glittering gaze was focused on Mr. Kay.
The innkeeper backed away, shock fast becoming indignation. “I didn’t. The girl gave it to me.”
Conor didn’t register the words,
his glassy stare remaining fixed as he stepped down off the final stair.
Mr. Kay threw the ring at Conor. “Here, take the cheap, ugly thing.” It pinged across the floor to be lost in the dark corners of the taproom.
Conor threw himself forward, his sword sweeping out in a wide arc.
Caught between them, Ellery dodged Conor’s attack, an easy feat since he could barely stand, but made difficult by the fact that her coat was sliding down one shoulder. She grabbed for it while trying to hold him back, but pushing against his chest was like pushing against a stone wall. “Conor. Stop.”
