Kindred Souls Complete Series: Books 1-4

Chapter Twenty

Harpot was a town Ihad yet to perform in, so I shouldn’t be recognized. It looked like every other village in Faligrey, the markets were the same, the simple shops selling fabrics and hardware, the rows of homes, the wooden sidewalks and dirt roads. The villages closer to the palace were more elaborate, or so I’d heard. I’d been saving up money and planning to make the trip in the spring. Which was now a death warrant.

Whistler escorted me to one of the three taverns in Harpot. We chose seats in the back corner where we could see and hear everyone else, but as long as we were quiet, no one could hear us.

A server approached and smiled at us. “New in town?”

“Just visiting.” Whist’s eyes roved across the room.

“What can I get the two of you? We have a real nice steak and wild mushroom soup.” The server gestured over his shoulder at the kitchen door.

Whist raised his brows at me in question and I nodded. “Sounds good. Two and some fresh bread and coffees, please.”

“Right away.” The server bustled away.

I leaned closer to Whist, stealing a quick sniff of his scent. “That’s not my favorite either.”

“As delicious as I hope it is, that would be a boring choice. I’m pretty certain it’s a dessert. I noticed you seem to enjoy sweets.” He didn’t stop searching the crowd of diners.

I shrugged. “I don’t get sweets very often. Most of my diet was tinned food before you.”

Whist shuddered. “Never again as long as you stay with us.”

“Trying to bribe me to stick around?” I asked it in a teasing tone, but I wondered if he was.

He met my eyes, utterly serious. “I’ll do whatever I need to to convince you to choose us.”

I gulped, tears clogging my throat. “I’ll keep that in mind.” My voice was raw and hoarse.

“Good.” So was his.

The server returned, breaking up our moment, and I relaxed some while we turned our attention to the food. The soup was good, but I had been spoiled by Whistler. It wasn’t as flavorful as his cooking, just hearty and plain and filling.

I still scraped up every drop while we perked our ears to listen to the other patrons. No one mentioned the royal guards, musicians, or the king. It was the usual gossip and complaints and pleasantries.

Whist leaned over in the booth so his words wouldn’t be overheard. “Nothing. It seems like the guard hasn’t come here looking for you. Which makes no sense. It’s the second closest village to the one you performed in last time and they were crawling through that one. Why aren’t they here?”

I agreed. It didn’t make sense. “Maybe since I disappeared, they assumed I ran. Or went farther than the closest village?”

He didn’t seem convinced. “Maybe. They still should have at least checked though.”

“You’re just grumpy because this means I get to perform. We’ll know for sure then.”

Resignation crossed his face. “Go ahead and ask. Let’s get this over with.”

Whist disappeared after the tavern owner agreed to let me play for the cost of our meal. I considered negotiating for a little coin as well, but it was more important I play than to tuck away a little more money in preparation for a rainy day.

Instead of using one of my extra instruments, I sat on a stool with nothing but my ukulele. Thankfully, it was a common instrument for musicians. Especially traveling ones because the small size made it easy to transport.

I made sure it was still in tune after its trip there and then plunged into a ballad, one not as popular as it used to be, but if I couldn’t play what I really wanted, I could still play my mother’s favorite song. She and Papa used to dance to this song after Papa taught it to me, laughing and kissing in the candlelight. It was one of my few bright memories of them before poverty and sickness turned everything gray.

I barely finished the song and moved into the next one before a couple royal guards walked in with their deep purple uniforms pressed and clean, their brass buttons shiny like new.

I made sure my eyes passed right over them, not showing the nervousness fluttering in my belly. Where had Whist run off to? The guards kept their eyes trained on me, but didn’t approach, instead moving to take a seat and order some food.

A large part of me was tempted to play my treasonous songs, to sing it right in their faces. Rage at the king and his loyal lapdogs banished any hint of nerves. But Whistler was somewhere nearby and he’d be caught in the crossfire if I tried anything or tipped my hand.

And I was growing rather fond of the grumpy assassin and didn’t want his death on my conscience.

Instead, I started another song, a more current one. The patrons sang along, joining their voices with mine. This was something I missed, something I rarely got to experience since I perform so many originals.

There was something powerful in so many voices raised together in harmony. If I could recreate this magic with one of my treasonous songs, we could change the world.

My hour of playing ended, and I slid off the stool to applause. That was new. And a little disconcerting. I’d never done this for acclamation, but I had to admit it was rather nice.

The tavern owner smiled and handed me a couple coins. Also new. Guessed he appreciated my efforts. And the money spent as people lingered over their meals.

Assuming Whist would find me once he was ready, I left the tavern. And the guards filed out after me.