17
PENN
Penn is sitting in a booth with Cody. He wants to put his arm around her. Last night, lying by the waterhole, he watched her sleep. He cloaked himself with the night so she would not wake suddenly and catch him staring.
Now he nurses a tankard of ale with one hand, and slides the other into his pocket. His toe taps. His fingers itch. He wants to know what it feels like – touching her cinnamon skin.
He’s spent an hour threading through tables, and leaning against the bar, and spying on the line for the registrar. He’s looking for a Champion, a particular Champion:
One who will strike a killing blow.
One he can sell to the Under Realm.
Never mind that Cody fits the bill. Now he watches her for the sheer enjoyment of it, and has no other purpose.
“No one has bet on me,
