ALLAN'S POV
“What's going on, Allan?" Fredrick asked, coming into the room after me. Ignoring him, I picked up a small knife with a golden jeweled handle. It belonged to my mother. I examined it. It looked sharp enough. With a shrug, I strapped it to my ankle. Then effectively covered it with my breeches before reaching for my sword. Fredrick’s hand covered mine, stopping me. “Speak to me, Allan. What's going on?"
“Let go of me." I growled and I turned my face to glare at him. Unmoved by my anger, he simply crossed his hands and moved in front of me, unobstructing my exit. “I'm not letting you go until you tell me what's going on. What was that poetry Droker's messenger mumbled? How do you suddenly know where Maya is and where are you going to?”
" You don't have the right to call my ma
