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“I’ll see what I can find out,” Stone said, hooking his thumbs in his suspenders. “You have my word.”
We all glared at him, knowing his word was useless without the promise of coin.
“Find out, Stone,” Callon said coldly. “And do it fast.”
The instant Stone agreed, I broke my connection with the ferret. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was up on my feet and pacing the room before I was even fully cognizant in my own head. That Del’s name had passed Maylar’s lips at all unsettled me.
When pacing wasn’t enough, I peered out at the sun lowering in the sky. I couldn’t be seen on the streets, and I couldn’t go to Del to warn her. There was nothing I could do but grit my teeth and wait for Callon and Lyra to return, yet I couldn’t stew in the room a moment longer.
There was nothing I could do. Nothing to do but drink.
16
Del
“You’re sure this is the right inn?” I murmured over the lukewarm mead, tugging on my single, long braid, which I had pulled over my left shoulder.
TheDrunken Stag’s barkeephad assured Garath the mead was the finest beverage they had available, which wasn’t saying much. But watery mead was better than sour wine or bitter ale, so I sipped from my tankard and continued to scan the common room from our table tucked against the side wall. It was so rare for me to have the opportunity to observe my subjects anonymously that even if we were in the wrong place, I wouldn’t have considered the past half hour of people-watching as wasted time.
Across the table from me, Garath nodded. “This is the place,” he assured me and sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes never ceased their cautious scan of the tavern, his ale untouched on the table before him. He had exchanged his black guard leathers for brown leathers scarred with enough burn marks to make me suspect he had borrowed them from one of the castle blacksmiths. He looked like he belonged here.
I did not.
I had borrowed one of Ada’s more casual dresses—soft, thin wool in dove gray with simple white floral embroidery around the neckline, cuffs, and hem—and a plain, lightweight hooded cloak in a darker gray. In this part of town, however, I looked like I was wearing evening finery compared to the other patrons’ garb.
I silently chastised myself. I should have listened to Garath and borrowed clothing from one of the female guards. The only other women wearing dresses in this establishment weren’t wearing very much of them.
My cheeks heated as I watched a burly young man snag the wrist of one such woman. She yelped, then giggled as he pulled her down to his lap and palmed her nearly fully exposed breast. Garath had assured me this wasn’t a brothel, which made me wonder what exactly went on in the actual brothels. Obviously, Iknewwhat went on, but I assumed it all happened behind closed doors.
“There,” Garath said, pitching his voice low. His attention locked on some point behind me.
I twisted in my chair and peered over my shoulder in time to watch Fin shut the door from the street. His eye caught on a woman wearing a belted violet tunic over dark gray leather leggings, perched on the edge of a table near the entrance. She was very pretty, with light brown skin, golden hair, and a faint smirk. It was no wonder she had drawn his attention.
He watched her with a guarded, curious expression as she slid off the table and approached him.
“We don’t have time for this,” Garath muttered, pushing his chair back and standing.
Fin glanced Garath’s way as he closed in. And then Fin’s focus shifted past Garath to me, and he blanched, his eyes widening. The woman in the purple tunic reached Fin before Garath and touched his arm, but Fin dismissed her with a few hushed words and a shake of his head, never taking his eyes off me. The woman glanced my way, her eyebrows raising. She mimed tipping her cap to me, then moved to another part of the tavern.
When Garath turned his back to Fin to return to our table, Fin only hesitated for a moment before following, a little unsteady on his feet. Garath switched seats, claiming the one adjacent to mine, which left only the chair on the opposite side of the table available for Fin.
I arched one eyebrow at Fin as he drew near. “Friend of yours?”
Fin pulled out the chair and eased down into it. “Who, Millie?” He glanced over his shoulder as though he was casually looking for the woman, then shrugged one shoulder. “I make friends everywhere.” His slightly unfocused eyes met mine. Clearly, he had been drinking. I could hardly blame him after the events of the past two days.
“I’m sure you do,” Garath muttered.
Fin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Her father owns this place, and keeping Millie happy keepshimhappy.Andit keeps them from asking too many questions about me—like why I arrived in Sierra military garb and now seem to be stuck in here, hiding.” He crossed his arms over his chest, then glanced at Garath, who had already claimed that pose, and leaned forward to place his elbows on the table instead. “I thought you’d come by yesterday,” Fin said, his voice carrying the faintest hint of accusation. “Or this morning, at least.”
“I know,” I said, leaning forward and mirroring his position. “We have a lot to talk about, and I wanted to come, but with Mother’s death and then Alastor—” I held up one hand and shook my head. “No excuses. Ishouldhave come sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Fin narrowed his glazed eyes, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He inhaled deeply, then released the breath in a sigh, much of the tension visibly leaving his body. “I can only imagine what it’s been like for you these past few days,” he said, his voice softening. “I’m glad you’re here now.”
I smiled, relieved. I cleared my throat and licked my lips. “I found something that I think might be important to both of us,” I said, reaching into the cloak’s concealed inner pocket to pull out my research notebook. “It’s about the prophecy—or, well, theprophecies. There’s more than one.” I placed the thin leather-bound book on the table and flipped it open to the page where I had recorded each of the three relevant prophecies verbatim, turning the book so it was right side up for Fin. “There are actually three, all linked.”
Fin scanned the lines I had copied, then blinked, studied them again, and looked at me once more. “Looks like two and a half to me.”
“I know,” I said, nodding. “That’s the problem. The third prophecy is attributed to Becca, but it’s only a fragment.”
