Page 59 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

“You’re one of Dovina’s little birds,” he said, his voice dropping low to ensure it didn’t travel beyond the two of them.

Her gaze swept down, and he took her silence for the admission it was, though her ties to Dovina and the High Lord puzzled him. Not because she worked for them, but because it made her willingness to help him—and put herself at risk in the process—even more shocking. He was the last person she should be looking out for, and yet... here she was again.

“I have a message for you.”

“For me?”

She nodded, pretending to clean his table, which was already spotless. “I'm here to remind you that there are eyes and ears everywhere.” She flicked her gaze to the left. Ronan subtly did the same, his eyes landing on Calix, the poisoner. “You cannot trust anyone.”

“Not even you?”

Her lips twitched. “Today you can. But watch what you say, and who you say it to, lest that information be shared. That's your message.”

“You haven’t exactly told me anything I didn’t already know, Camille.”

“Perhaps not, but maybe there’s another question you should be contemplating.”

His body tensed, instinct warning him that the real clue she was giving him was not in the message itself.

“There are many who are not as impressed with you as I am.”

He dipped his chin in a nod, having known that to be true the second he signed up for the competition.

She tipped her head as discreetly as possible to the table Shadow was seated at. “I do not suggest going over there tonight. Everyone knows the best-laid traps have the sweetest lures.”

“Thank you for the advice, Camille.”

“You’re not going to take it, are you?”

Ronan smiled, trying to take the sting out of his admission. “No.”

He truly did appreciate her sticking her neck out for him, but the truth was, his course had been set the second his eyes landed on her. This was the first opportunity he’d had in days to speak with her. He had to take it. He was running out of time.

“But my stubbornness doesn’t make you any less of an angel.”

“Stars save me from the egos of men,” she muttered, clearly exasperated as she abandoned all pretense of cleaning his table. Straightening, she offered a cryptic, “The celestials are always watching over us.”

“What the fuck is a celestial?”

But she was already gone, vanished into the crowd so thoroughly he wasn’t even sure she was still in the tavern at all.

He made to stand, his eyes landing on the stein of ale she’d brought him. Recalling Calix’s presence, he debated the safety of drinking it. The glass hadn’t been out of his sight since Camille set it down, and after the lengths she went through to protect him, he didn’t think she’d bring him something tainted. Still, this should probably be the only drink he accepted for the night.

Even mostly certain it was safe, he gave the cool liquid a cursory sniff. Smelled like ale.

He took a tentative sip. Tasted like ale.

When he didn't immediately start choking or fall over in painful spasms, he downed half of it in one go, telling himself it would be rude to waste it. And if he did die of some slow-acting concoction, well, he had only himself to blame.

Recalling Camille’s parting words, he wondered if by celestials, she meant gods. He knew better than most that the Mother absolutely watched over her Chosen. Effie’s timely arrival at Nightshade’s was proof enough of that.

Perhaps it was naïve, but he couldn’t help but believe that his goddess wouldn’t have ensured he made it this far only to let him be felled by something as insignificant as a pint. Not when she so clearly had a purpose in store for him. A purpose involving the beauty seated a mere three tables away from him.

He found it interesting that no one else approached her, especially since none of the guards who’d been all but breathing down her neck since the first trial were anywhere to be found.

Shadow was well and truly alone.

Even without Camille’s warning, he would have recognized the bait for what it was. But then, he’d never been one to run away from anything with his tail tucked between his legs, least of all a challenge. And he’d definitely never cared about playing by someone else’s rules. If Erebos was trying to scare him off or send a message, he was failing spectacularly.

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