King of the Seditious

The following morning, Dimurah was unsurprised when Nauvree sighed and took a seat at the counter. Eying her over it until she finally slammed down her rag and gave him a disparaging look.

“What?”

“When are you just going to give in to him?” Nauvree asked Murah.

She looked up from wiping a tankard out with a bit of cloth. Setting it along the bar for later tonight. “What do you mean?”

“You know very well, what I mean.” He eyed her over his tankard. “You two have been engaged in the longest running segment of foreplay I’ve ever witnessed. And I’ve had some time to witness many things…”

She admired this man. With his short cropped blonde hair and alert blue-green eyes, he was good-looking. Though easily as dangerous as any other man in the Blue Lark Guild, he and his friend, had some sordid code of honor that made them truer than most. Such as Savage Jack, for instance.

“Everyone knows full well, I don’t dally with clientele.”

“We’re all your clientele.” He argued.

She gave him a pointed look as if that were proof of her point.

The Nauvree eyed her askance. “Do you really think you could keep this place running without him? He brings in four times the profit of any assassin in the Lark.”

“A fact of which, I’m very aware.” She slammed another tankard down. “However, he and his crew are haphazard, careless, violent…”

“We’re all his crew.” He softened his tone. “You can’t control him.”

She slammed another mug down. “I can’t control any of these men.” She tossed her head violently toward the few stray assassins slowly drinking away afternoon hangovers.

He scoffed. Shaking his head.

“What?”

“You don’t fool me, Barter Queen. I know very well you keep all these men, including myself, in line. You’re the law of the Lark.”

She stared at the bar as they let the silence prolong.

“And he is your muscle. Your protection. He’s why everyone here obeys you.” He finished his drink and set it down. Rising from his seat. “And sometimes he’s your sense of reason.”

“My sense of reason!” She was wide-eyed with appall.

“You forget.” The Nauvree pointed at her. “I’ve been his friend, as much as one can claim to be with him, a long while. I know him well. He’s no witless brute as you’d have everyone here believing. He’s precise, methodical. Quick-tempered perhaps, but not usually without cause.”

“He’s evil.”

“No. I’ve seen true evil.” The Nauvree shook his blonde head slowly. “He’s ruthless. Cold-hearted but not evil. How can you be evil if you only ever kill an opponent with whatever weapon they hand you?”

“No one ever willingly hands him a weapon.” She scoffed. Turning another mug and thunking it to the counter.

“Yet…They all do.”

“He will be back tonight.” She said, feeling somewhat ill. “Will you?”

“No.” The Nauvree shook his head. “I feel I witnessed enough of your romantic tension last night.” He turned but was too late to dodge the rag she tossed at the back of his skull. He laughingly left.

“Is what he says true?” Belline, the woman who’d hung on Savage last night, glided in. Blonde hair shining in the afternoon sun peering through a window on her right.

“Which part?” Murah asked dryly.

“All of it?” Belline leaned on the counter. Exposing a large amount of bountiful breast over her pushed up corset. She plucked a fraying edge of the rag under the drying tankards. “Mostly the part about him being sharper than he lets on.”

“He’s dangerous.” Murah warned.

“I like dangerous…” Belline purred. Lifting her brows suggestively. “Mayhap I serve him something extra tonight.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Ye ne’er do.” Belline sing-songed. Turning up her nose. “That man is over six feet of lean muscle and hot passion. I want him all over me.”

“Most do.” Murah pursed her lips trying not to look at her. But wishing the conversation would end.

“Ye can see the dangerous all ova’ him. Tha’ flaxy hair. Shining in the night. And eyes so blue look like a deep lake to drown in. He could drown in me!” She chittered. Thankfully leaving the room in a flourish.

Murah reminded herself she’d long ago approved the girls to do what they wished for extra coin. Long as customers were served and tended, and no duties were neglected in Winter’s Haven. It kept a guild of high-strung assassins, less high strung.

“I hate her.” Adrea came around the bar. Referencing Belline’s intent to have a go at Savage. “Her and her big breasts and pretty gold hair. Sliming all over whichever of the men she wishes.”

“Rather you calling the kettle black is it not?” Murah slowed her scrubbing to lift a haughty brow at her tiny black-haired friend.

Adrea giggled in acknowledgement. “But she gets the finer of the bunch.”

“You’re far more pleasant.”

“Well, thank ye.” Adrea mimicked a curtsy. “Was it true what ye told The Nauvree?”

“Is everyone eavesdropping this morn!”

“I believe so…Yes.” Adrea looked around at the six or seven men scattered around the alehouse, half-awake blinking blearily in their direction. Two had their heads resting on their palms. One in the corner had his hood pulled low and was likely already sleeping. “In, my defense though, I listen to everything the Nauvree says. I want him.”

“He’s never toyed with any of our girls.” Murah said.

“Yet.”

“I’ve heard tell that there’s a chit in Nightway he romances.”

“Lucky chit.” Adrea grumbled. “But” She lifted a finger. “Still not out of the realm of possibility.”

Murah laughed softly.

“So, seriously.” Adrea sobered. “What are you planning for tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“You always try some masterful plan to leave the guild for supplies. Or to disappear. Or you’re suddenly ill when he’s in the Lark. What’ll it be tonight?”

“I already feel a bit ill, perhaps. My stomach has plagued me all day you see…” She clutched it in feigned agony.

Adrea laughed. “It won’t work. He’ll find you. Or find a way to lure you here. He always does.”

“Not tonight.” She groaned dramatically. “I’m particularly ill. Could be contagious. I may be dying.”

“Perhaps then, someone should check you for heat.” A dry voice rose from the corner. Making both girls wince.