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Fang whistled sharply. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a small crate. He set it on a nearby table. “It’s all here, as you requested,” Fang said, his voice tight.
“Good.” Sahvi smiled and stepped up to the table, the lamplight dancing over his face. He tossed aside packing straw before scooping up a dark pouch. “This is destined for another port,” he said. “I would like your men to send it to Vyken once we’re gone.”
Beside Desfan, Liam shifted. Desfan shot him a warning glance, and the prince’s lips pursed.
Desfan hadn’t realized olcain was being delivered to Ryden. Especially not through his city.
Sahvi opened the pouch and studied the contents. “Of course, I must make sure it hasn’t been tampered with. I can’t send faulty olcain to my buyers. I have a reputation to uphold—something that has proved difficult recently, due to an extremely vexing rival who tried to make my empire his own.” He glanced at Fang. “You know how it is, I’m sure.”
Fang grunted non-committedly.
Sahvi closed the olcain pouch and tossed it to one corner of the table. His eyes landed on Desfan, who stood near Fang. “Try some,” he said, nodding to the pouch.
Karim stiffened.
Desfan’s stomach plunged, even as a sick desire rose. Liam was right about one thing—olcain was something an addict would always crave, even if he’d resisted for years.
“I haven’t tampered with your olcain,” Fang said firmly.
“Good,” Sahvi said. “Then you won’t mind one of your men sampling it.” His eyes locked on Desfan once more. “Try it.Now.”
Desfan met his gaze, his pulse skipping. They had no choice. They hadn’t given the men outside enough time; they needed to keep stalling, or risk a fight they might lose.
Desfan took a step forward, but Karim beat him to the table. “I’ll test it,” Karim said. His expression was set as he snatched up the pouch.
Oh, fates no.Desfan gritted his teeth. “He’s a raging addict,” he lied. “He’ll think any fates-blasted powder is good, even if it’s no better than dirt.”
Karim glared at him, but Desfan met that easily enough. His friend wasnotputting that in his body. They didn’t both need the experience of an olcain addiction.
“I’ll do it,” Liam said, his accent vaguely Mortisian. He stepped forward and took the olcain from Karim, his ducked face in shadow as he opened the pouch. He took a pinch of white powder and held it to one nostril. He sniffed sharply, and Desfan could almost feel the burn himself.
Liam’s shoulders relaxed subtly as he no-doubt felt the first rush of olcain. He cleared his throat, his fingers tight on the pouch. He took another step closer to the table and dropped the olcain onto the smooth surface. The movement put him a step closer to Sahvi.
Desfan’s heart beat a little faster.
Liam’s voice was wholly even as he said, “That’s good olcain, Sahvi. Perhaps your best.”
The drug master frowned. “What . . .?”
Liam lifted his head, finally looking at Sahvi full-on. The lamp on the table would have illuminated every plane of his face.
Sahvi’s eyes flew wide as he sucked in a breath. “Rahim Nassar?”
Liam smiled, and there was nothing pleasant about it. “Hello, Sahvi.”
Desfan cursed.
Chapter 47
Mia
Miasatatthesmall table in the harbor master’s office, saying nothing as Tyrell set a bowl of thick stew in front of her.
He’d dragged her back to the harbor and into this room, leaving the guards outside so the two of them could be alone. The horse she’d abandoned had been tethered near the door, and her pack—along with Grayson’s—had been thrown into the corner of the small office.
Mia hadn’t said a word since they’d left the alley. Tyrell hadn’t said anything, either. Not even when he’d dug through her pack and found the jar of salts, which now sat open on the table.
She hadn’t needed the salts to steady her breathing. She wasn’t having a panic.
