Page 90 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
Tristan frowned. “Fifteen?”
“No!” Galen said. “Fifteen minutes is really good for a place like this. Come on, Tristan. Be cool.”
Tristan scoffed and nodded at one of his escorts. “Speed that up, please.” He tossed the mage a silver coin purse.
“Tristan,” Haleika groaned. “Stop. You make us look like snobs whenever you do that.”
“I make us look like we want our food.” He pulled me close, his arm around my waist.
“You’re going to get our food spat in,” Haleika said with a pout.
“Nonsense. They’re going to make it with care, seeing as how I’m willing to pay.”
Haleika scrunched up her nose. “Ugh, we didn’t have a reputation here. That was half the appeal.” She shook her head. “Now we will.”
“Ka Grey and Ka Batavia have reputations everywhere. Anyway, it’s for a good cause,” Tristan said. “Look at Lyr, she’s going to faint if we don’t feed her soon.”
“I’m not going to faint!”
Galen gave me the side-eye. “Well….”
“Fine,” Haleika said. “But if you insist on being a complete and total snob—don’t give me that look! You know what you are! At least have the decency to go inside and bribe them yourself. Don’t send your escort.”
“Whose side are you on, Galen?” Tristan asked.
Haleika slid beside him, a seductive grin on her lips as she stared up at him beneath thick, blackened lashes.
Galen held up his hands. “As a representative of Ka Scholar, who does not, by the way, have a reputation here—”
“Because your Ka never takes their noses out of their scrolls,” Haleika said with a sly grin.
Galen smirked, shaking his head. “Not getting in the middle of this. But on the stance of the possibility of having my food spat in, I’m very, very against.”
“Lyr?” Tristan grinned, squeezing my waist.
I rolled my eyes. “Everyone knows you bribe by your own hand when you don’t want to look like a snob. They teach you that in Introduction to Lumerian Nobility.”
Tristan laughed. “I think I failed that class.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek and released me. “I’ll go in myself. Just remember, I’m doing this for all of your benefit. Not mine. Lyr’s going to faint. Haleika won’t stop rubbing her belly. And, Galen, you’re eyeing me like I’m a meal.”
“Dream on!” Galen laughed heartily.
“Now I’m going to go in there, on your behalf, and plead, on your behalf, because you’re tired, hungry soturi in desperate need of sustenance.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, cousin,” Haleika said. “Go. Live your life as a snob. Enjoy your spit-food!”
The escort tossed the purse back to Tristan but followed closely behind as his lord vanished inside the restaurant’s front door. Galen turned toward Haleika, who was still standing close to him, and ran his hand down her arm.
I tried to remember the bet Tristan and I had made about them, but that seemed like ages ago. Surely, one of us had won. As Galen gave Haleika a quick kiss on the cheek, I directed my attention back to the city behind me.
A group of mages walked down the waterway, talking animatedly. I looked up, accidentally making eye contact with a short man with reddened cheeks and a long black mustache that curled at the ends. He stopped walking so suddenly that the mage in his party who walked behind him crashed into his back and cursed. The short man continued to stare at me. All at once, I saw the flash of recognition in his eyes, the way his mustache jumped and his lip quivered as he watched me watching him.
It was the vendor from the festival, the one who’d had the Emartis pins with the black seraphim wings on the sigil for Ka Batavia.
Just as quickly as he recognized me, he averted his gaze, looking pointedly at another mage in his group and laughing loudly as they ambled past us. The vendor looked away, then back to me. He was attempting to appear relaxed and nonchalant, but I saw the extra skip in his step and his attempt to speed up and get away from me.
More parties of mages and soturi swarmed the streets, ambling past shops, stopping in front of restaurants to inquire about dinner reservations. But I had my mark, and kept my eye on the vendor.
“Haleika,” I said without thinking, “can I borrow your cloak?”
