Page 39 of Wild Bond

Skye had wanted to come along with me, but knowing I would have a hard time blending in as it was, let alone with a dragon on my shoulder, she had decided to shadow me in the sky and was even now flying far overhead in case I needed her.

Walking the streets of Dessin again as a free woman was intoxicating and strangely nerve-wracking at the same time. Not in the sense that I was afraid to be out in the city at night—I could take care of myself, and I was a dragon rider now—but because I felt like a different person. The training leathers and dark green cloak I wore, even though they were simple, were still of finer quality than anything I had owned before. I felt different too, changed from the girl I had been before being imprisoned. Like I didn’t quite fit here anymore, and I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. Grasping the set of daggers for reassurance that I had “borrowed” from The Tower armory, I turned the next corner and finally saw my destination.

Sal’s Tavern was as rundown and dingy as I remembered, the sign for the establishment hanging precariously to one side above the entrance. Several patrons loitered outside as I approached, one man snoring loudly and leaning against a wooden post. I paid them no mind as I entered, and they appeared to do the same to me. Sal’s wasn’t the kind of place where people expected to be noticed.

I didn’t slow my stride as I made my way to the back of the establishment, barely taking note of the dozen or so tables spread around the space, along with the many lively patrons. My stomach did grumble at the scent of the stew on offer, reminding me that I hadn’t taken the time to eat before leaving the compound.

Once on the far side of the room, I halted at a curtain-covered doorway with a guard posted before it. He looked me up and down, but I had made sure my hair was covered by the hood of my cloak and didn’t think he would recognize me. Though many people had heard about the silver-haired thief who had bonded with a dragon, and many people had been in Petitioner’s Square that day, not many knew my face, and I looked very different than I had then.

I paid the man a silver lady, and without a word he moved aside, letting me pass. Pushing the curtain aside, I took the stairs down to the underground level.

The noise hit me before I opened the door at the bottom and found myself in The Pit, one of the lower city’s most horribly kept secrets.

The space consisted of a long bar off to one side with two levels of tables and chairs scattered around a large sunken fighting pit in the center. There was currently a fight in progress, and the noise from the boisterous crowd was deafening.

I ignored it all as I glanced around, searching hopefully for the familiar head of dark curls attached to the scrawny body I had seen so often weaving in and out of patrons here.

After nearly fifteen minutes of making my way slowly through the crowd around the pit with no success, I thought briefly of giving up for the night. This had to be at least the seventh place I had looked for Lessa since beginning my search. It had been several hours, and I was done wracking my brain for places she used to frequent, places that were usually busy, where people were distracted or drunk and easy to steal from.

Sighing, I mentally alerted Skye that I was finished for the night and would be leaving the tavern, when I suddenly felt a presence at my back. A voice spoke next to my ear.

“What are you doing here, Rin?”

Acting on reflex, I whirled with my stolen dagger raised before the familiarity of the voice registered.

A large hand caught my upraised arm, and a small thrill went through me as I looked up and met a pair of icy blue eyes.

Rake scowled down at me, looking dark and imposing in a long cloak of his own, though his hood was down.

He glanced at the dagger in my hand, then back to me. “Would you like to answer my question, or try and slice my throat open first?”

“I’m looking for someone,” I hedged. He let go of my arm, and his eyes narrowed. I knew he was just going to probe further, so I quickly deflected, “Why areyouhere?”

“Who are you looking for?” he demanded.

I ignored his question. “Why are you here?” I repeated.

He looked around, making sure no one was paying us any mind, before saying in a low tone, “I’m the queen’s spymaster. Do I need a reason?” He was right, and it wasn’t like he had to answer me, but I just glared at him. He contemplated me, as if deciding whether to tell me, then he finally sighed. “The chains,” he said.

My eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise that he actually answered me. Not that his answer revealed much. “The chains?” I parroted.

“The chains we found at the clearing that were used to restrain the dragon.”

I still stared at him, not seeing the connection. “The chains led you here?” I gestured to our surroundings, where currently a brawl over some slight was happening not three feet from us, and a man was even now being pummeled to death down in the pit.

“I knew there would only be a few blacksmiths in Dessin capable of producing chains of that size and quality. So, I made some inquiries and discovered that a man matching the description of one of the fighters who frequents this establishment filled the order a few months ago.”

“Oh,” I said, impressed that he had even thought to look into who created the chains. I sure hadn’t. I guess that was why he was the queen’s spymaster. He was cunning, smart and had definitely earned his reputation. I had witnessed more than enough evidence of that in our relatively short acquaintance.

“And is this fighter here tonight?” I inquired, already guessing the answer.

Rake smiled, and I tried not to notice how his eyes shone when he did. “His fight is up next.” He gestured to the stool beside where I guessed he had been sitting. “Have a seat.”

The seats were stationed along a narrow bar top that overlooked the fighting ring below. Several other patrons took up the seats along either side. One man down the line was passed out next to his cup of half-drunk ale while another was talking to a figure in a dark cloak. Silver changed hands before the figure slipped away.

Nodding once, I took the seat, and Rake ordered me a drink from the passing bar maid.

The rows of spectators below us were rowdy and loud as a tall, dark-skinned man was declared the victor of the current fight, and the loser was dragged off to Realms only knew where. He was bloody and wasn’t moving, either unconscious or dead.

---