Morgan slid across his bed to the wall, eyes widening in fear. A bald man stood over the bed, the same man who had attacked Morgan at Beacon Inn. There was a knife at the bald man’s throat now, though. From behind the man’s head, the glow of the moonlight fell upon white hair, alighting the silver within it.
“Evan,” Morgan whispered.
The bald man’s eyes grew impossibly wide, as if he actually feared that name.
“I suggest you go back and tell your master the man he seeks is unavailable,” Evan said. With a slow slide of his blade, a thin red line appeared on the bald man’s neck. “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s possessions.”
The man jerked free of Evan’s hold and jumped out of the open window.
Morgan was too shocked to move. Then he looked up and met a pale, sharp gaze. “Thank you,”
