Chapter 3
“Zaira,” Bolivar calls in warning.
Ignoring him, I pass the hearth and approach the opposite side of mystery man’s table. I drop the pouch in the center of the table, and the coins make an obnoxious clatter. Even though I’m shaking, I look right at him.
He glances at the pouch. Then his eyebrows pull together before he slowly drags his gaze up to meet mine.
“Hi.” My voice cracks.
His frown deepens.
Shit. What was I thinking? I mean, this guy is really scary up close. I think it’s his eyes—amber irises swirling with dark flecks of brown. They’re fiercer than I expected, especially with the fire mirrored in them. Or maybe it’s the obvious grimace he wears beneath the mask.
On the upside, he has really nice skin. Light brown with bronze undertones and minimal pores. Analla would kill for skin as smooth as his.
“I’m Zaira Quinlocke.” I press shaking hands to my chest, introducing myself.
“You don’t know me, and that’s fine, but you look like a guy who gets what he wants, and since you’re wearing buffers and carrying those insanely cool swords, I’m assuming you’re not afraid of a good fight.
” The words fall out of my mouth like vomit.
I need to shut up, but I can’t. Not right now.
I have to go all in. “I bet you’ve seen many of the kingdoms in Thelanor, and as luck would have it, I could use someone like that right now. ”
His glare is heated.
I swallow again, then pull out the seat across from him so I can sit.
Before I can, he straightens his back, and a dagger suddenly materializes in his right hand.
He snatched it out of thin air faster than I could blink.
Fisting the handle, he slams the hilt down on the table and causes the silverware and my coins to rattle.
I stare at his black, fingerless gloves as he cocks his head ever so slightly, awaiting my next move.
Heart hammering in my chest, I drag in a breath and claim the seat.
If I don’t push past my fear, I’ll regret it.
Even if I’m a fool and he decides to kill me on the spot, I’m willing to accept that fate because if Analla dies, then I might as well die, too.
But my pendant is still warm, so she has to be alive.
I need her and would do anything for her.
Even chat up a ruthless-looking stranger with murder in his eyes, apparently.
“Look, I’m sure you want to kill me right now for invading your space, so I’m sorry for doing that, but I’ve heard people talking about you. Men like you don’t walk around wearing buffers and carrying swords unless you’re fulfilling certain…duties.” I whisper that last part.
His eyes give me a cautionary flash, like he’s insisting that I stop talking immediately. He and I both know I don’t have to say what those duties are out loud.
Bounty hunting.
Kidnapping.
Stealing.
Murder.
The list goes on.
I’m not quite sure what all he does, or that he’s even the right guy in black—I mean, a lot of people wear black—but he at least has to know how to fight and protect, otherwise all this gear he’s wearing is for nothing.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” A nervous laugh bubbles out of me as my gaze bounces to Bolivar, whose nostrils are flaring.
His palms are planted on the countertop like he’s anticipating my throat getting slit at any moment.
A glance around the pub reveals that all present—from beastials to humans to charmers to sorcerers—expect the same outcome.
Yep. I’m dead.
I shift, putting my back to our audience and lowering my voice so that only the man across from me can hear my words or see my face.
“Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Look, the point is my sister got mixed up in a bad situation, and now she’s cursed.
I need to travel to a place outside Meriva to get something that’s supposed to help her, but I won’t survive if I go alone.
Now, I’m not sure what all you can do, but I know if I have someone who can protect me along the way, I might be able to make it.
And if that person isn’t you, maybe you know someone who might be interested and can point me in their direction.
I have to try for her—and I’ll give you all the coins I have.
” I nudge the pouch closer to him. “I’m desperate at this point…
so I’m begging you to please help me. Or show me to someone who can. ”
He doesn’t even bother looking at the pouch. His gaze burns through me instead.
Then, before I can blink again, he lifts his other hand and flicks his wrist. Golden wisps burst from his fingertips, and something tight and warm wraps around me, hauling me out of the seat.
“Fuck off,” he grumbles.
Wow. The first two words I hear from him are “fuck off”? How insulting.
I gasp, staring down at my feet as they dangle inches above the wooden floorboards.
My body moves, but not of my own accord.
It takes a moment for everything to register, but it doesn’t stop my heart from racing or prevent the panic from crawling up my throat.
I’m floating farther away from him, bound by an invisible force, and unable to free myself.
Oh my Orvena.
On top of being feared, he’s a sorcerer, too?
Even though I hate the way he’s magically manhandling me, I now feel even more compelled to get him to help me.
Why? Because magic offers twice as much protection…
though I’m not entirely sure he uses his with virtue, as Orvena instructed in her teachings.
Doesn’t matter. Maybe I’ve had too many drinks and am not thinking this through, but I still want his help. Magic is good. It’s an advantage that I need right now. I just need to reason with him.
That turns out being easier planned than done, though. The masked man isn’t returning me to my seat as I expected. Gasps fill the tavern as the patrons watch me struggle against my invisible bonds, and it’s only now I realize he’s sending me floating toward the exit.
Oh crap.