CHAPTER 12
Her flinty gaze trained on Kaspian, Agata caressed the back of her knife with one long tapered finger from behind the bar. The metal glinted in the amber candlelight. Thank Perun’s mercy, Brygida’s powerful presence kept the tavern patrons and Agata from acting against him. Inhaling deeply, he locked gazes with the boar’s head hanging above the bar. Henryk used to say Agata had killed it with nothing but a dagger and her bare hands. He’d never believed it until now.
The inn had three doors: the door to the left, a dead end leading to the inn’s rooms; behind Agata was a door to the kitchen, where Agata’s husband lingered, the corded muscles in his arm flexed as he cleaned the same cup he’d been cleaning since Kaspian had entered; and to their right was the exit to the village s
