Kingdom of Exiles - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,20

wasn’t an option. If they could assess when it was safe to enter my room without me knowing, then they most certainly had eyes and ears pinned on me at all times. Not like escape was really valid anyway. I needed the bounty gone. I had to work with them.

I pulled the door open and stepped out into the quiet hall. The long corridor was marked with rows of doors, some with light slipping beneath the cracks and others entirely dark. A few assassins walked together toward the stairs. They paused when they saw me, easy smiles strained and words caught in their throats. After a moment, they nodded a hello and kept moving, voices lower than before.

Where was the threat? The promise of death? Sure, Noc had said I’d be safe in his home, but was that really all it took? Scratching my head, I followed their path downstairs to find the foyer crowded with life. Four members of the infamously deadly Cruor were huddled around a low coffee table with a tiered game board stretched out before them. Ebony, ivory, ruby, and emerald pieces of varying sizes were stationed across the levels. My brows inched together. A game from Wilheim? I didn’t recognize it. One man knocked over a tower with a glittering ruby knight and laughed as the person next to him scowled.

A few more assassins loitered near the mantel, talking with animated hands and wide grins. Another sat alone at a writing desk, scratching words on yellowing parchment with a quill.

It was all so…normal. One of the gamers knocked out another tower, and the howl of laughter mingled with the skittering of glass across tile. The tower tumbled against my boot, and I bent down to retrieve it.

“Sorry about that,” one of them called. Earnest eyes searched my face with obvious curiosity. “Do you mind?” He stretched out his hand.

“Oh. Sure.” I walked toward him and dropped the game piece into his waiting palm.

“Want to play?”

“Um.” I glanced around at the four of them. Not an ounce of trepidation was visible on their faces. Blatant interest, maybe, but that was common when people met a Charmer. We never left the safety of our hidden city. I studied the game board for a moment, but then my stomach struck with an audible growl. “Maybe after I eat.”

Their answering smiles were genuine, and the man nodded. “Sure thing.”

I edged toward the hall leading to the kitchen just as another piece hit the floor. Rumbling laughter followed me out. When I passed through the open archway, I stilled at the sight of a curvy woman leaning over a cookbook. Her canvas apron was dotted with pastel flowers, and various utensils stuck out from her deep pockets. A stray bit of flour dusted the tip of her nose. Freckles covered her face, and she reached up to adjust a bright-red bandanna that held back a mess of springy espresso-colored hair.

One of those strange living shadows drifted from her frame and slipped toward me, halting just before my chest. Glancing up from her book, she followed its path and met my gaze with a warm smile. “Hello. I’m Naomi. You must be Leena. Are you hungry?”

I resisted the urge to touch the shadow. “Yes. I can just get a piece of fruit or something.”

“Tsk. Nonsense.” She straightened, and the shadow dissipated. “What do you like? I’ll whip you up something.”

“Like?”

“Yes. Like.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Go on. Spit it out.”

“Eggs?”

She snorted. “You don’t sound sure. What about an omelet? Do you like spinach? I have some fresh greens that are just to die for. And there’s always bacon. We can dress it up with some scallions and cheese, and it will be scrumptious.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I glanced past her to the mountain of dishes lingering in a sink big enough to call itself a bath. Clearly, she’d served others and had enough tasks on her hands.

“I’ll happily cook if it reduces the number of bounties I’m assigned. Which it does.” She yanked open the icebox and started extracting ingredients. Closing it with her hip, she beamed at me. “Besides, I like it. Now, grab yourself some coffee and have a seat in the dining room. I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”

When I opened my mouth to argue, she wielded a whisk with the precision of a weapon, and I backed off. She stared at me with firm but kind golden-brown eyes, nodding once to

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