rest. The sun would be rising soon, and she’d have to start another long day.
But she remained upright, leaning against the headboard. As she drifted off, both strangers merged in his mind, becoming one. In her heart, she knew they were one and the same.
“I’m going to make you very sorry, Ky,” she whispered.
Chapter Three
Under cover of the table, Kyler flipped a knife through his fingers. Not just any knife. It was the one he’d taken from Etta. He should have left it behind. It was always a mistake to take anything during a mission, especially something so personal.
It wasn’t an overly large blade, but it was sharp. The wood of the handle was smooth and slightly worn from use. It wasn’t monogrammed, had no metal accents or embellishments. It was a tool to be used.
Why had it been under her pillow? Why had there been baseboard lighting? What was she afraid of?
He had to force the muscles of his arms and torso to relax. Not my problem, he reminded himself for the hundredth time since he’d left her last night.
His gaze strayed to the door to the left of the bar. Etta had gone in there earlier and hadn’t shown her face since. Where was she?
She’d followed him into his dreams—a pleasant change from the faces of the dead who usually haunted him. Nightmares came with the job of being the king’s blade. It didn’t stop him, but it made for many restless nights.
Sitting in a new location, he listened to the conversations around him, unconsciously sifting through all of it for information that might help. It was something he did unconsciously.
Once again, he wore his heavy cloak to cover his face. It wasn’t as bad as some might think, considering the air was stifling, in spite of the central air cooling and recycling system. His cloak appeared nondescript, but like all his clothing, it was made from the finest material, which kept him warm in colder temperatures and cool in the warmer ones. Beneath them, he wore a battlesuit, a virtually indestructible body armor that was surprisingly lightweight and maneuverable.
“You again.” A tall, skinny male around fifty or so years of age with silver-gray hair, light-brown skin, and dark eyes pulled out a chair and sat without invitation. “You were here last evening.”
He inclined his head without comment.
“Etta doesn’t usually sit with us,” the man continued. “Too good for the likes of us.” There was nothing bitter in his tone, nothing to indicate he held any kind of grudge against her. It was more of a statement of fact.
Kyler leaned back in his chair. A man learned more by listening than talking.
The man lifted his cup and had a swig of ale. “Word of warning, friend. Stay away from her unless you want to get hurt. There are a lot of folks here who think mighty highly of that girl. The kind that might gut you in a back alley, if you get my drift.”
The knife in his fingers stilled. Now this was interesting. “And her father?”
He gave a derisive snort. “He’s a right bastard and proud of it. Not the kind you want to cross. He’d be as likely to congratulate you as he would shoot you in the back. There’s never any way of knowing until it’s too late.”
“And her brother?”
The man indicated his empty cup. Knowing what was expected, Kyler held up his hand until he caught the attention of one of the servers and pointed to the man across from him. The two of them sat silently until the waitress returned and placed two ales on the table—one for them both. He flipped her a credit that would cover twice that and nodded his thanks.
There were likely several people around them listening in on their conversation. That was fine with him. Might encourage a few others to approach.
“Much obliged.” The man lifted the fresh ale and gulped down half. “Talking is thirsty work. I’m Moe, by the way.” When Kyler remained silent, he gave a nervous laugh and tugged and the collar of his shirt.
“You were going to tell me about her brother,” he prompted.
“Sure. Sure. He’s a chip off the old block. Just like his old man.”
“I haven’t seen him.” He was careful to keep his voice modulated and show only faint interest.
“He comes and goes. Will likely be here again soon. Never stays away for too long.”
“Protective of his sister, is he?”
Moe slapped his hand on the table, his uproarious laughter gaining