The King with Six Friends

Bonus Scene?

(*Bonus Scene*)

(*Possible Scene for Book 2?*)

"Classy," Ingrid snarked as she and Edge walked into the pub.

In one booth, a crew of pirates swayed off-rhythm, singing sea shanties with their glasses raised. A mercenary with a jagged scar up his neck scowled as the two made their way across the room.

"Oh, my apologies, Your Majesty," Edge said with a tone. "I didn't know if you wanted dinner at the palace gazebo or the king's yacht, so I picked the next best place."

Ingrid laughed loudly, drawing attention from the patrons around them. Edge pulled a seat out for her at the bar. He sat down next to her just as the bartender came around the island.

"Let me guess," the bartender said, "Wine and rum, large glass to share?"

"I'll take an ale, actually." Ingrid rested her chin on her hand and winked at the bartender. A smile pulled at his mouth and he busied himself with cleaning a clean beer stein.

"I'll do a bottle of mead," Edge put in.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it," the bartender said irritably. "Open tab?"

Edge shrugged. "Sure."

While they waited for their drinks, Ingrid tapped her foot on the stool and Edge traced his fingernail over a carving on the countertop. A minstrel band started up on a short stage by the window.

A shine caught Edge's eye and he noticed a knife under Ingrid's sleeve. Even though she had changed from her dark assassin clothes into a casual dress, Ingrid still carried a weapon on her. How many she had on her person, he could only guess. She almost never had her guard down.

"So-" He cleared his throat- "You never answered my question."

Ingrid glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "About what?"

"I asked how you got into the 'assassin thing'."

"And I told you it's none of your concern." She crossed her arms. Edge exhaled slowly and shifted his eyes around the room.

"But I mean, if there was anything that I should know," Edge started, "You would tell me, right?"

Ingrid turned with a scowl and was about to snap something, but the bartender returned with their drinks. Ingrid downed her ale in one go and moved to a table on the opposite end of the pub. Edge sipped his drink in silence.

In the background commotion, two musicians of the minstrel band were having a heated argument over who would sing the next ballad. One hit the other over the head with a lute, who punched them in the nose. The band was then asked to leave.

"Could I get another ale?" Edge asked the bartender. Without missing a beat, the bartender promptly slid the glass down to him, foam spilling down the sides.

"Don't mess this up," the bartender said with a serious look.

Edge walked over to Ingrid's lonely table and sat down across from her. "I didn't mean to pry, I was just curious," he apologized. He pushed the glass across to her.

She stared at it, then up at him, then back at the glass. A smile broke and she accepted the peace offering.

"Thanks, but-" Ingrid took a sip off the top of the foam. "I'll tell you eventually. I'm just trying to find the right time."

"Of course," said Edge. "But if I can't ask that question, can I try another one?"

Ingrid shrugged. "I guess so."

"How did you down your drink so fast?"

Ingrid chuckled. "That one I can answer." She held her glass up and tapped it on the edge of the table. "You gotta get it flat first. Then you just-"