The Queen's Line (Inheritance of Hunger #1) - Kathryn Moon Page 0,100
as we moved to meet Otto behind the bar.
"He's in there waiting for you," Otto said, good eye tracking Cresswell.
"You know better than to leave Scrapper unattended. What's he giving you? A cut of what he steals?" I asked, but I grinned with Otto.
Scrapper probably would help himself a bit while alone in my office, but he was always careful never to take more than I could spare or anything I might actually notice was gone.
Otto cranked the keg closed behind as we entered the tunnel, and I heard the scuff and scramble of Scrapper giving up whatever he was investigating. By the time we stepped into my office, he was lounging in a chair in front of my desk, one foot propped up. I gave him a good once over, looking for any new scratches or scrapes. Scrapper was generally the master of his own body, but sometimes it gave him troubles, usually with balance, or joint pain. I squinted at the foot on my desk and decided not to comment, it was gingerly placed and probably had more to do with a twisted ankle than Scrapper being a presumptuous little shit.
"What's he doing here?" Scrapper asked, sitting up, but confirming my suspicions by not moving his foot down.
"You have a mutual friend," I said, gesturing to the free chair before moving around to sit behind my desk. "Her Loveliness," I added, more to see the look on Stark's face when he realized I meant Bryony and that Scrapper beamed at her mention.
"Ah, well," Scrapper said with a sigh and a sidelong glance at Stark, who perched stiffly in a chair. "Yes, word is he goes mooning about after her around the palace."
Cresswell flushed and glared at Scrapper, mouth working, but he didn't deny the taunt.
"But as far as I can tell, he's more interested in doing his duty of service than serving the princess," Scrapper said.
"Where are you getting this information from?" Stark barked, and Scrapper sneered back at him.
"Tell him, Scrap. We're here to exchange, not flaunt," I said.
Scrapper huffed and rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat before meeting Stark's eyes again. "Your man Yorley talks too much in the bars here in Rumsbrooke. Whores about a fair bit too. He's reporting to the crown, as well as one named Piper—"
"Stanley Piper?" Cresswell growled, pushing back in his chair and grinding his jaw as he looked absently around the room.
"Mm, but Piper's not a fan of Yorley and he likes the position," Scrapper said.
Cresswell blew out a long breath and slanted his gaze back at my spy. "And who's there for the council?"
Scrapper pursed his lips and shrugged, but I cleared my throat and nodded at him.
"Nicholas Walsh," both men said at once.
"And that new steward," Scrapper added, miffed at not having the news exclusively.
"Everyone knows about Farraque already," Cresswell answered with a wave.
Scrapper leaned back, smug once again as Cresswell covered his mouth with his hand.
"She's practically surrounded," I murmured, frowning.
"All the Chosen are clear," Scrapper said with a shrug, and Cresswell and I exchanged a wide eyed glance. It was hard to imagine Pope or Owen working for the council, but it was even more concerning that we hadn't even considered the possibility.
"If you…if you hear anymore," Cresswell murmured.
"We'll inform you," I said with a glance at Scrapper, who nodded. "And I'll…keep an eye out at the festival tomorrow."
I hadn't planned on attending, more interested in having a bit of peace in the city, and maybe a bit of spying of my own on Hubert's house. But if Bryony couldn't trust most of her guards…
"Hand me the blade," I said.
Cresswell sat up and pulled it out of his jacket, and I tsk'ed at Scrapper and his greedy gaze, reaching across my desk for the blade, my eyes growing hooded at the just the pulse of power it left against my palm. I had a few ideas of what kind of protections to give it, glamours to help keep it secret, maybe even a warning charm.
It should be pretty too, decorative and charming…like her.
I closed my eyes and focused on my work instead of the woman in my thoughts.
26
Bryony
Cosmo leaned into my side, kissing the curve of my neck to my shoulder. "Breathe, Bryony."
I huffed and caught my breath, sharing a smile with him. The carriage bumped along the road the next day, myself and my Chosen squeezed in together for the ride to the festival.