I’m giving it back. Now I’ve paid you better than Ephitel ever would.”
“I could still turn you in,” she said with a glance over her shoulder.
“You could. But you’d be better served by far to let me go.”
“How so?”
“My goal is to reach Oberon on his throne. I hope to open his eyes to what is happening. Perhaps no one is brave enough to challenge Ephitel, but Oberon could end this all.”
The lady shrank away, eyes wider still. “You would see the king?”
“I will.”
“And you think he might help you?”
“I think he might help us all.”
Her jaw worked soundlessly. Corin waited patiently for her outburst. She could call him mad, and he could scarce deny it. Instead, she threw herself across the table, clasping both hands in the fabric of his shirt. “Take me! Please. Take me back to court. I have to see the king.”
“You were prepared to betray me.”
“That was before I knew you. But you…you give me hope for a chance to set things right.”
Corin hesitated, and something hot and desperate flared in her eyes. “I beg it of you. You will not regret me. I know the court. I know people there. I know my way around the palace.”
“I’d planned to go alone, to avoid notice.”
“Ah!” she cried, springing to her feet and feverish with victory. “You see? Already you prove my worth. No one goes alone at court, least of all a manling. You will draw far less attention with a lady at your side.”
Corin rubbed his chin, considering. “But there are those who know you.”
“Only friends! If any of them still hold a place. But I was never powerful enough to have an enemy.”
After another heavy pause, Corin sighed. “I must admit, you could be useful.”
She caught his hand in both of hers, looking thrilled. “You mean it? You will take me?”
“I think I must.”
“Then come!” She dragged him to his feet and away from the table.
“Not now,” Corin said, struggling against her surprising strength. “I mean to have a meal first.”
“Then we will find you one,” she said. “But not here. Come on. We have to leave.”
Eyes narrowing, Corin asked, “Why? Exactly why?”
With a blush upon her cheeks, the lady shrugged. “I wasn’t sure I could subdue you on my own.”
“So you summoned some guards here?”
She looked away. “Nearly so.”
“How near?”
She met his eyes. “Ephitel himself. He should be here soon.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
As if in answer to his name, two of Ephitel’s guards slammed open the tavern’s door and burst through. Corin cursed and shook off the woman’s hand. He spun around, hiding his face from the men at the door, and stared down at the table while his mind raced.
Before Corin could fabricate a plan, Ephitel’s voice rang out from the direction of the doorway. “Ho! Tavernkeeper!”
The lady shrank against him, breathless. “What do we do?” Corin almost thought she sounded excited.
“We make a desperate plan and hope for the best,” he said. He snatched up his glass and swallowed the rest of his wine at a gulp, then reached instinctively into his cloak for a purse that wasn’t there.
Instead, his hand closed on the washed-leather bag that had served him so well when he’d rescued Iryana. He threw one quick glance over his shoulder, surveying the room, and saw the tavern’s owner emerge from the kitchens, wiping his hands anxiously as he headed toward Ephitel and the guards.
Time was short, and the circumstances were imperfect, but he saw no other way out. A pinch of the dwarven starburst powder had served him in the slaves’ tent, but this common room was not as dark, and his opponents were better prepared.
He cursed softly to himself and dropped the whole bag on the table. After a moment’s consideration, he turned it upside down, careful that none should spill, and ripped away the braided cord that tied it closed. Now it was little more than a leather cloth gathered over a pile of dust more valuable than a prince’s ransom.
The lady bounced upon her toes, anxious to be away. “Really? At a time like this, you pay your bill?”
“Something like it,” Corin said. He darted to the nearest table and grabbed the sleeve of the lord seated there, shaking his attention away from Ephitel.
“Please,” Corin panted, “please, for the love of Oberon, do not let Ephitel see what’s on that table!”
Then Corin grabbed the lady’s hand again and, without a backward glance, dragged her hastily toward the kitchen. His clothes were well suited to skulking