Page 48 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

“We’ll backtrack to the bar. I put out a feeler for acontact I have in the market. He’s going to meet us there.”

Kierse eyed him skeptically. “Someone you trust?”

“Not exactly.”

“Whodoeshe trust?” Niamh asked.

Fair point.

“Lead the way.”

Chapter Sixteen

From the outside, the pub looked like any seedy bar Kierse had ever been to in the city. It had a wooden sign out front proclaiming it Ye Olde Pilgrim.

Kierse glanced down at the sign and back up to Graves. “Seriously?”

“This place is older than the pilgrims, actually. Puritans rename everything,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “The market had settled in the New York space before the Americas were even colonized. It only began to reshape itself around the Manhattan entrance after the area was taken from the indigenous people.”

“Know-it-all,” Niamh mumbled under her breath.

Graves smirked, taking it as a compliment, before pushing the door open. A little bell jingled overhead announcing their arrival, but inside was loud enough that their entrance was lost in the cacophony.

And while the outside had reminded her of her city, the inside could have been a medieval pub. A dirt floor covered in straw opened up to a hard wooden bar and a bunch of wooden tables and benches. A goblin band was playing a collection of old string instruments and singing a bawdy tavern tune. Mugs of ale were thrust into the air as most of the occupants—a mix of monsters, predominantly goblins—sang along.

“It has a certain je ne sais quoi,”Niamh said.

“Feels like old times,” Graves agreed.

They grabbed a table with their backs to the wall, and then Graves went off to grab drinks. Kierse didn’t trust the ale in this place not to knock her on her ass, but they needed the disguise.

A barmaid in a knee-length brown dress dropped off a plate of crusty bread and cheese. “Drinks are at the bar, babes.”

“Thank you,” Niamh said properly.

The woman winked at her. “Love your accent.”

Niamh beamed. “Thanks, love.”

“Find me if you needanything.” The implication was clear as she bustled off to another table.

“Making friends with the locals, I see,” Graves said as he dropped three pints in front of them.

“I can hardly help that I’m irresistible.”

Kierse ignored them as she surveyed the room. She’d spent many an evening trapped in a dive bar waiting for an informant or a contact. It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d honed her skills on the backs of billionaires to scrounge enough of a living. Now she had millions in the bank from the spear heist, but she still felt like that same girl who had to be hyper-independent to survive.

“When is your contact showing?”

“He should be here any minute,” Graves assured her.

“What do I need to know about him?” She met his gaze. “And don’t give me any shit about how it’s ‘need to know.’ I need and I want to know. Dish.”

Niamh barely covered a laugh. “She has you there.”

“His name’s Vale. He’s a sort of mercenary aroundthese parts. He knows enough magic to be dangerous, but there’s no one who knows the inner workings of the market better than he does.”

“So he’s a warlock?”

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