Zya realised that she was not going back to the guild, no matter what her excuse was to be, so she gave in to temptation and it felt right. “I am due to go back to my guild very soon, but I do not see why we can't have some food beforehand.”
“Perfect,” replied the Duke with a winning smile, “let us adjourn to the privacy of my table.” And he led her to the table on top of the dais. 'Private' might not have been quite the word Zya would have chosen to represent this situation, but there was a distinct separation between the lavish spread on the dais and the crowd beyond. Even now, Zya had begun to doubt what she had heard about this man. Was this straightforward and polite gentleman the head of an army of mercenary-backed merchants, who took concubines as often as the day changed? She coul
