14. Lirion
Lirion had never in his life stalked someone.
But, well, there was a first time for everything.
Of course, in the past, everyone had always come seeking him. It was never the other way around.
Would stalking even be the right word? Most stalkers did so out of obsessive desire, after all, and he didn’t desire this man whatsoever. Skulking might be a better term.
He debated the right word as he sauntered along the road, not paying a certain hero any attention. Lirion had kept his distance from Lance and his companions the last two days, giving the asshole time to recover and for all of them to once again lower their guard.
Today, his target wasn’t Lance Carrington, but Gale Reeve. He hadn’t even known Gale was in town when he’d started questioning Lance. He just knew the two always traveled together. If anything good had come out of Fenric’s interference the other day, it was discovering Gale was in Bjornkill.
A smirk toyed with Lirion’s lips as he thought about how Fenric had put the fear of all the vengeful gods into Lance.
The cowardly fucker hadn’t even dared show his face in town the last two days, considering how beat up he was.
Apparently Bjornkill had a shortage of competent healers who could have cleaned up his face.
Though, considering how Fenric had left him, it wouldn’t have been an easy or cheap job.
Now Lirion wanted to finish the job with these so-called heroes. His way.
With Lirion’s good looks—it wasn’t ego, just fact—it was nigh impossible to go anywhere without drawing someone’s eye.
He went from stall to stall along the marketplace, admiring a necklace here, sampling some fruit there, all the while keeping one eye on his quarry a good distance ahead of him.
It didn’t hurt that this was a busy port town.
There were ample crowds for him to disappear into.
The only thing he’d had to do was wrap a bit of brown cloth over his head like a hood to hide his bright hair from notice.
An aging grandmother with a wealth of wrinkles on her weathered face perched behind her wares waved a trembling hand to catch his attention. “Who you looking at, dearie?”
That singular glance of his had not gone unnoticed, eh? She was shrewd. Lirion gave an easy shrug and an even easier lie. “I’m with a group. Just trying to make sure I don’t get separated from them.”
“Ahh, sure, sure. There’s so many things to look at, aren’t there?” she asked with a soft rasp.
“There are, and we seem to be looking for different things.” That part had been pure truth.
“Well, take a flask for the road,” she said, pointing to a bottle on the end. “This one’s made of bamboo and keeps your drinks clean.”
True, he could use a second one, as his one gourd canteen wasn’t large enough to do more than tide him over until he reached the next town.
Ooh, if he had a second one, he might even be able to carry poison around discreetly.
Wait, no, knowing his luck, he’d get them confused in the dark and poison himself.
Still, a second one sounded like a good idea. “Give me that one, then. How much?”
“Ten coppers.”
Normally, Lirion would haggle on principle, but she had given him a fair price.
It lent credibility to his “only shopping” here, so why not?
He handed the money over. She even gave him a cord to loop through the bottle’s top to make it easier to carry, which he appreciated.
Just to put a bit of spark in her day, he kissed her hand like a gentleman would a lady and watched as her eyes lit up and a blush filled her cheeks, her thin lips spreading into a wide smile.
It had likely been decades since any man paid her attention, and that moment was one she appreciated.
“Oh, you. You’re too smooth,” she accused, all while laughing in delight.
“How can I not be with such a precious lady in front of me?”
“Oh, go on with you before you lose your friends.”
Lirion winked before sauntering along, not correcting her.
Following someone was tedious. Lirion really didn’t care for it, but he knew for a fact this vile man had crucial information regarding Aria.
Just waltzing up to him and asking wouldn’t work, either.
Not only was sex trafficking illegal in Moorwood, but it would have been absolutely scandalous for a hero of Gale Reeve’s renown to be associated with it.
Lirion wasn’t about to let this bastard off lightly after he got the information.
Gale Reeve wouldn’t be a hero by the time this day was done. Lirion was adamant on that point.
So, he followed.
The one solid piece of information he’d gotten in all his searching was that Gale had been one of the last to see Lirion’s sister before she’d seemed to completely disappear off the map.
Lirion had caught hints of her here and there, whispers of young women and men loaded up into carts or deep in the cargo holds of ships, but most of the time, he couldn’t even be sure if Aria had been among their ranks.
But twice, informants had linked Gale to a woman matching his sister’s description at the boat party where she’d last been seen.
The bastard knew where his sister was.
The day waned into evening. Gale’s friends split off on their own pursuits, and eventually it was just Gale and one friend. They were in the red-light district of Bjornkill once again, so it was clear what they were after. Pretty stupid, considering what’d happened to Lance.
But their stupidity made this all the easier, really.
Lirion pulled a kalimba from his pocket.
For this, he needed something very small and discreet, and this instrument was his best option.
He plucked out a merry little tune, feeding his magic into the notes—a not-so-subtle persuasion spell to help Gale not think clearly.
He wasn’t sure Gale would remember him as the man who’d smashed a bottle of wine on his head.
He hoped it had all happened so fast Gale only recalled Fenric in that mess.
As Lirion played, he positioned himself at the corner of the building, in the shadows, but visible enough to make eye contact with Gale.
Turn and look, the spell persuaded, the melody catching his quarry’s attention and wrapping his brain in a pleasant fog. Turn and see.
Gale turned, blinking, and waved his companion on. The friend let out a lecherous laugh as he sailed through the brothel’s doors, and that was perfect. Yes, go away. He needed Gale, and only Gale.
The Hero of Moorwood, Bringer of Justice and Defender of the Common, looked like any other inebriated male as he sauntered toward Lirion.
He was already doing that thing all males did when approaching someone they wanted to fuck—that confident swagger with his chest puffed up.
Look at his arrogant, lustful expression, as if he were any lover’s dream.
Gale wasn’t horrible to look at. He possessed a thick head of black hair, a strong, aristocratic nose, and full lips.
The only things detracting from his looks were the long scar on his cheek, puffy red eyes, and the general bloated appearance of his face, as if he were constantly in a state of inebriation.
But what did that matter when his clothes were of the highest quality, the royal sword and rose symbol emblazoned across his chest announcing to one and all that he was one of the king’s heroes.
Bet he had a tiny dick.
Lirion smirked at the thought, trying not to laugh, because he’d find out shortly. If he won that bet with himself, he’d buy himself a little treat tonight before finding an inn.
But first, business.
“You’re pretty,” Gale breathed, looking him over.
Lirion flinched but tried not to show his revulsion. Gale reeked of alcohol already, too, so he must have been drinking and walking most of the afternoon. Well, this should be even easier if his judgment was impaired.
“Don’t you want to come with me?” Lirion asked him, purposefully using his soft bedroom voice that drew people to him like flies to honey. He dragged his teeth over his lip, drawing Gale’s eyes to his soft, full lips.
Gale sucked in a breath, his words slurred but urgent. “Let’s go inside—”
“Oh, I’m not sharing you with other people,” Lirion said, acting demure as he slipped the instrument back into his pocket. “Come with me. I know the perfect spot.”
Between the alcohol and Lirion’s persuasion spell, it didn’t even occur to the hero to argue.
He gave a dumb nod and followed Lirion right off the porch of the building, along the side, and into the alley in the back.
Lirion would periodically turn and walk backward, making sure Gale still followed without hesitation.
He ran his hands down his chest, putting extra sway in his hips.
Gale was completely lost in a haze of lust.
No one else was in the immediate area, but this was too close for Lirion’s comfort to where Gale had left the other heroes. He wanted Gale completely separated from his companions.
Lirion led him on a short three-minute walk toward the market district and stopped just shy of it—still within the realm of the red-light district, but right on the border. Now that was perfect.
Turning, he caught Gale by the shoulder and “playfully” shoved him against the wall. Gale laughed, going without fuss, although he tried to grab Lirion and haul him into a kiss. Lirion would rather cut his own lips off than kiss this asshole.
He put a hand against the man’s chest, partially to ward him off, but also partially to pump an insane amount of magic into him. For Lirion, charming someone was as easy as breathing, and the human body was incredibly susceptible to it.
Gale shook under the force of his power, eyes glazing, his jaw going slack.