No. I don’t want them to know that I’ve found a way to sometimes break the spell.
As you wish.
I arched an eyebrow. I wouldn’t share any information with them even if I knew it. “I only know what you know. The Night Elves are planning some sort of footrace.”
“There has to be more than that,” she said. “They’re not stupid.”
I rose, towering over my siblings. I felt a flash of satisfaction as they both shrank away from me. “As soon as I know anything, you’ll be the first to hear,” I lied. “Now get the fuck out.”
I would end them both soon enough, when they least expected it.
Chapter 25
Ali
I rubbed my eyes as sunlight streamed into my bedroom. I glanced at a clock on the bedside table and, finding it was nearly eight o’clock, leapt up—breakfast was in ten minutes. After washing my face and changing into my leather outfit, I hurried down to the mead hall.
I found the hall full of elves and, more importantly, the scent of food. Instead of servers, there was a buffet: a table piled with pastries, platters of hot eggs and sausages, even some fresh fruit.
I’d been missing out on so many things in the caverns …
I was piling sausages on my plate when Bo sidled up to me. “Have you tried this?” He held up a mug full of a steaming black liquid.
I sniffed it, not recognizing the smell. “What is it?”
“It’s called coffee.”
“Coffee?” Something about it triggered a distant memory. When I was a child, my mother had told me stories about it—a hot drink made of beans that humans had loved. As a concept, it sounded pretty strange, but according to her stories, the humans had worshiped it like a god.
I’d never actually drunk coffee myself, though, and neither had my mother. After Ragnarok, supplies had immediately run out, and it was impossible to obtain.
I sniffed the mug again. “Do you think this is actually coffee?” Whatever it was, it smelled amazing.
“No idea.” Bo pointed at a tall silver contraption on a nearby table. “I just got it out of that.”
I put my plate of sausages down and hurried over to the coffee dispenser, then filled a cup and took a small sip. The flavor was not at all what I’d expected. Bitter and acidic. A bit like the juice of a rancid portobello mushroom. Discreetly as I could, I spat the rest of the mouthful back into the mug.
“What do you think?” asked Bo, grinning a bit too broadly.
Cheeky bastard knows it tastes worse than bat piss. “It’s not … not what I expected. I thought it would taste good.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my voice.
“Right? The humans had super weird taste in food. Have you ever had haggis?”
“No.”
“Well, how about I tell you about it over breakfast?”
I snatched up my plate of sausages and followed Bo to a nearby table. He sat down with his coffee cup warming his hands, waiting for me to get settled.
Then, he looked me dead in the eyes. “So, you threatened to kill me.”
I was beginning to realize I overestimated everyone’s ability to designate things as water under the bridge. You assassinate an emperor, you threaten to kill a friend, and it turns out people don’t simply forget it. Which, frankly, was deeply inconvenient for me.
“Sorry about that; I didn’t have much of a choice.” I held his gaze. “I was worried you could misinterpret the fight.”
“And why was that?” Bo leaned forward, maintaining eye contact. I had to give him some credit. It took serious balls to interrogate a professional assassin like this. “Do you know that I happen to know your brother, Barthol?”
My jaw tightened. “What?”
Bo took a sip of his coffee, grinning conspiratorially. “I was sent to the mines a week ago. The week before that, I was working with your brother. I got caught. He did not.”
“Wait, you’re saying Barthol is—"
“Working as a smuggler? Yup.”
It didn’t make sense. Barthol did things by the book; he wasn’t one to break laws unless ordered to by the Shadow Lords. If anyone accidentally overcharged him in our market, he let them know immediately. “But why?”
“After you got sent to the mines three weeks ago, Barthol was kicked out of Sindri. No one would hire him. Except for my boss. Barthol has some valuable skills.”
I narrowed my eyes at Bo. “You’re blackmailing me, aren’t you? If I don’t tell you about Galin, you’re going to rat Barthol out? Get