“Wouldn’t dream of it, my lady. Though, if the walls could talk, they’d be asking for earplugs.”
I sipped my coffee in silence. The bread tasted like shame and cinnamon. Warm. Crumbly. Absolutely worth it.
But then I noticed it.
One man. In the corner. Watching us.
He wasn’t from the inn. His cloak was dry despite the rain. His boots military. His eyes? Too sharp to be drunk.
I leaned closer to Alaric. “Six o’clock. Cloak. No mud.”
Alaric casually reached for his cup, the muscles in his forearm flexing like a damn warning.
“I see him.”
Bandit? Rebel? Spy?
I sliced my bread like it owed me money. “You think he heard—”
“No,” Alaric interrupted. “But if he did, he’s jealous.”
“I meant about our plans.”
“Oh. That too.”
Norma leaned over. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle him.”
“Norma, yo
