Page 114 of The Kingdom's Reckoning
Laurince grabbed her by the shoulders and knelt down to peek through the lip of her hood. "Are you hurt?"
Myra shook her head. Her hands trembled, and she shoved them deep into her pockets.
Laurince, of course, had already noticed them. He squeezed her shoulder. "We’re almost there."
"This is ridiculous," Rian hissed, wiping the mud from his soaked cloak.
"A little mud won’t hurt you," Laurince said, rolling his eyes.
"I’m not talking about the mud!" Rian spat. He waved his hand in the air. "I’m talking about this entire thing."
A few patrons walking on the opposite side of the street turned in their direction.
Laurince quickly stepped in between them and Rian, blocking their view of him. "I already told you," he whispered, leaning forward, "we can’t go barging in. It’s not smart."
"Smart? It’s my?—"
Laurince snatched Rian by the collar and dragged him down the street toward a nearby alley. As he was about to turn downthe alley, he tore a poster from a shop window and glanced at Myra, brow raised in question.
Myra halted in her tracks and nodded, letting the two men slip into the alley as she waited at the corner. In her periphery, she saw Laurince shove Rian in the shoulder. A slew of hushed words spilled from the captain’s mouth, the spoken words mere white noise under the cover of the rain. Taking a deep breath, she peered into the window of the nearest shop, but she barely paid any attention to the trinkets on display. Her attention was fixed on the posters plastered to the window. Someone had drawn a rough sketch of a man with a sharp chin and thick eyebrows. In another poster, a young woman with an oval face and high cheekbones stared back at her. Their likeness to Rian and Kallie was uncanny.
Heart pounding, she forced herself to refocus on the task at hand. She scanned the faces that walked by, their reflections faint in the mirror. Her gift hummed inside her, waiting.
She recalled what Laurince had said by the river. Her power was not evil, nor was it only a tool for her to use to betray her friends. It washers, and no one else’s.
As the occasional curious eye dipped toward the alley, she snatched the threads, feeding notes of indifference down them. One by one, the people walked away.
With each person she successfully turned away, the guilt lessened. It might have been a violation, but it would not harm them. If anything, using her gift would prevent a brawl from breaking out if a guard correctly identified Rian.
Nightfall was less than an hour away, and the overcast sky blanketed the capital in shadows. When a swift breeze blew in and nipped at her fingertips, Myra buried her hands deep into the pockets of her trousers beneath her cloak.
When Laurince returned with Rian on his heels, she asked cautiously, "Everything all right?"
Rian muttered something unintelligible, tugging the cloak further down his face. The heavy fabric spread shadows across his features. His hair might still have been black, but there were more people who would recognize him in the capital, especially with his face plastered on every corner.
"We’re good. The place is just around the corner," Laurince said, sweeping past Myra. But before he passed her completely, he squeezed her hand. The touch wasn’t long or drawn out. It was quick. A mere pulse. But it was his way of saying it was going to be fine. Laurince might not have been able to read emotions like she could, but he had learned to read her tells quickly.
Turning around the next corner, Laurince halted in front of a building. The sign hanging from the post above the door was worn from time. Squinting at the etched markings where the ink had long-since faded, Myra read the words scrawled across the wood:The Drunken Dragon.
Myra tugged on Laurince’s arm, stopping him from reaching for the door handle. "I thought we were done with taverns?"
"Don’t worry. We’re not staying long. I know the owners. We’ll be safe here."
She peered at the tavern’s opaque windows that were crusted with dirt. She could barely see through them to make out the oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. The faces of the patrons inside were a blur, their silhouettes masked in heavy shadows. She looked over her shoulder at the guests walking down the other side of the street. Further away, a guard surveyed the area, his fingers tapping along the hilt of his longsword that sat at his hip.
"Do you trust me, Haze?" Laurince asked, holding out a hand.
Without hesitation, she grabbed it.
As the doorclattered shut behind them, a strike of lightning burst across the sky. Thunder rumbled and sent Myra bumping into Laurince. Several patrons looked over at them, and Rian stared at the ground as he strolled inside behind them.
"Sorry," Myra mumbled to Laurince.
"I thought we were done apologizing for silly things?" Laurince quipped.
Myra’s lips parted. But before she could respond, he snatched her hand in his.
"Come on. Let’s grab a table. I told him to be on time in my letter, not a minute late." Laurince led them through the tavern.
