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Olov Penhallow tossed a friendly nod at him from behind the bar, where he was drying mugs. Grigor nodded back, though he did not share the man’s enthusiasm. For anything, really.
His boots echoed with every clomping step he made toward the bar, rising even above the din of the crowd. Some paused conversations to follow the sound and the shadow, two things he’d not found a way to hide.
“Light or dark?” Olov asked, aiming his thumbs over his shoulder toward the two kegs.
“Neither,” Grigor said. “I’m looking for your son.”
Olov set the mug aside and picked up another. “Which one?”
Is there more than one fucking my niece?almost escaped his mouth. “Tyreste.”
“Ahh.” Olov gave a slow nod. “He’s taken a leave from the tavern. He’ll be at his cabin, most likely. I can have Addy show you the way.”
“I know it,” Grigor muttered. He rapped his knuckles on the bar and grunted.Say it.“Much obliged.”
“All right then,” Olov replied with a suspicious look, likely wondering how Grigor knew his way around their private property. Then again, Olov had daughters. He’d understand a man keeping an eye on the closest thing he’d ever come to having one. “You can cut through the back. It’s faster.”
“Aye.” Grigor nodded once more and left before someone tried to engage him in needless chatter.
A few minutes later, he was knocking on the cabin. Tyreste answered fast enough to make Grigor wonder if he’d been standing on the other side, waiting.
“That wasmuchfaster than I thought, but thank—” Tyreste’s mouth dropped open. He craned his neck upward to sweep Grigor’s height, then locked eyes with him. “Grigor. I wasn’t... Is everything... Is it Ana?”
“Yes,” Grigor said curtly and shoved past him. He grabbed a chair from the table, tapped it to indicate Tyreste should sit, and took the one on the other side for himself. He felt like an ogre in the tiny, rickety chair, but if he was used to anything, it was the unsurprising discovery that almost any chair, save a throne, was too small for him.
Tyreste approached the table but gripped the back of the chair instead of sitting. “Please just tell me. I need to know.”
“Sit.”
“Tellme.”
Grigor bolted up in an unspoken threat, and Tyreste quickly slid into his chair.
“I found her on the floor in the stewardess’s apartments. Unconscious.”
“Unconscious...Why? What happened to her? What did Magda—” Tyreste’s eyes were a bit too wild for Grigor’s liking. He sensed he’d have to subdue the lad before they were done with the conversation.
“You can ask Ana when she wakes,” Grigor explained. Others touted patience as a virtue, but for him, it was a weapon. There were times for the fist, and there were times for the siege. He’d been in a decade-long siege with the koldyna destroying his family. Patience had kept her eye from settling upon him.
“Where is she?”
“In my wagon.”
“In yourwhat?” Tyreste tried to leap out of his chair, but Grigor was faster. He clamped a thick hand atop his arm. Tyreste regarded the restraint with a blend of horror and disgust, but he settled back down. “What do you mean, in your wagon?”
“I’ll bring her in here when I’ve said what I need to say.” Grigor withdrew his hand. “My niece has been reckless. Courting danger. The stewardess has returned. By now she’ll be aware of Ana’s sojourn into her room.”
Tyreste stared blankly at the table. His cheeks blazed. “Then it’s not safe for her there.”
“It never was.” Grigor sighed. He was familiar with Tyreste’s history. He understood the boy craved stability. But he had to try. “I came to you today, Tyreste Penhallow, to appeal to your love for Ana. She needs to leave the Cross immediately. I would take her myself, but I already know she would not leave without you.”
Tyreste held out his hands. “When do we leave?”
Grigor had been expecting a fight. “You’re willing to do this? Leave your family?”
Tyreste sat back in his chair. He crossed his arms and looked away. “Would she be safe anywhere?”
“That, I cannot say.” Grigor pushed back from the table before the negotiation became a conversation. “But the time for defeating the koldyna has passed.”
