“And do you have any?”
“I have many. But I am far more interested in this unfamiliar face who has arrived in my establishment, wielding the name of a caster who was last seen with the Ybarisan princess. And on the same night that a famed legionary sits at my bar.” She nods to where Jarek hovers.
Fuck. She is too perceptive. She reminds me of Sofie in that way.
“A legionary.” I take a long chug of my mead, feigning calm. Meanwhile my heart pounds. “I’ve heard they can be vicious.”
“I suppose we all have a vicious side.” She smiles, showing off her white teeth. “You seem so familiar. Have we met before?”
“You just said my face was unfamiliar.”
“And still …” Humor flashes in her eyes. “Where are you from?”
“Kettling.”
She crooks her head as she studies me. “I may have believed that, if you were not sitting with Seamus, who would never trust a Kettling immortal.”
“It doesn’t really matter what you believe.” What would Bexley do if she knew who I really was behind this mask? I betrayed our deal. Would she want to punish me for that? “Seamus and I have a mutual friend who he does trust.”
She seems to mull that over. But every expression, every word, every move feels calculated. “You know who I am.” It’s not a question.
“You said it’s your tavern, so I assume you’re the owner?”
Her secretive smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Why are you in Cirilea?”
“I came here for the royal wedding.”
“Seems you have wasted your time traveling, then.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“What is your name?”
“What’s yours?”
She pauses. “People call me Bexley.”
Interesting choice of words. It’s not a lie, but is it not her real name? It’s the first time I’ve ever questioned that. “People call me Tarryn. Tee for short.” The grifter’s name that keeps on giving.
“There have been many strangers around here as of late. So let me ask you again, what are you really doing in Cirilea, Tee for short?”
“Are you always this untrusting?”
“I have not survived as long as I have by being anything but. I wonder, have you come here to cause harm to the king?”
“Would you care if I did?” I know Bexley and Atticus are close. They’ve probably fucked each other a hundred different ways before he was king. Now that he is king, she must value having his ear. But I’ll bet a woman like her values the information she trades even more.
“You wouldn’t be the only one. There are others loitering about, waiting for their chance.” Her gaze wanders over her bar’s interior. “But the king and I have an understanding, and having him seated on the throne is far more convenient for me than the alternatives. So, yes, I suppose I do care. Purely for self-interest.”
“And what would he say if he knew you were in regular communication with Mordain’s casters after what happened to his parents? Would he still be so understanding?”
Bexley’s eyes flare—with alarm or surprise, or likely both. “What can I say but I appreciate all sources of information.”
“As do I, especially when that source knows their information is too valuable to bury for their own benefit.” I slide a gold coin across the table, making a point of placing it face up, so the two-crescent-moon Ulysede emblem shows. Based on our last negotiation, Bexley doesn’t seem to care about gold coins. Secrets are her precious commodity.
She pauses, examining it for a long beat. “This is the symbol they are marking on the mortals.”
“Yes.”
“Where is this from?”
“A friend in the north.”
Her lips twist. “I’ve heard a certain Ybarisan princess is in the north.”
“She is.”
“I have also heard tales of old beasts from the Nulling prowling in the open. Far more than usual. As if they’re drawn to something. Or someone.”
Bexley must have a source in Telor’s army. Or the saplings. I’ll have to ask Radomir when I see him next. But is she also hinting that she knows of a key caster? “Nothing that hasn’t been handled. Why did the king lock up the eastern lords?” I divert the subject.
She studies me, as if trying to decide how I fit into a puzzle. More likely, she’s weighing how much she can extract from me and how much it’s worth to her. “They are plotting to divide Islor in two, claiming as far west as the Plains of Aminadav and naming Kettling as its capital city. The force gathering there is considerable, aided by soldiers from Kier.”