❝ when she looks into his eyes, she feels the gripping temptation to tell him all her darkest secrets; the names of the men she has killed, but she learned a long time ago that the only people who can keep secrets are resting in overgrown graveyards...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Calliope waits in the Night Wagon, her eyes keen and sharp as she takes note of every man that comes through the door, but none so far have been the one she's looking for. Beside her, Arthur munches on bread and cheese, but her gaze never leaves the entry way.
Her plan is simple. Pretend to be someone that has an important information for Drak, and if that doesn't work, she'll just tail this man until he leads her straight to her target and get inside his house or fortress the hard way. No matter what happens during her conversation with the man, she will not go back to Camelot until her mother is safe. Calliope has a dagger tucked away in her cloak just in case things get messy, but she doesn't want to cause a scene in the middle of the tavern.
When the door opens again, a man over six feet steps through. His shoulders are broad and muscular, and he has a long, silver sword strapped to his back that looks like it weighs more than Calliope. His hair is a gray-white, and his eyes are shining ambers that survey each person before him. Soft stubble lines his jaw. He has a strong face and black armor that only makes him seem even more intimidating to those in his path.
The assassin glances to the bar where Ezlyn gives her a subtle nod.
Calliope watches him as he sits at the same table Ezlyn pointed out last night. A tavern maid immediately places ale and a piece of bread before him.
"Let me do the talking," Calliope says as she and Arthur stand from their table. He wants to protest, but he knows this is her realm of expertise. His proper accent alone would give him away to a man like this easily.
Their footsteps fade into the mixing voices and laughter until they stop right at the man's table. He doesn't look up from his piece of bread. He just continues chewing and drinking his ale.
Calliope doesn't hesitate. She sits down across from him and motions for Arthur to do the same.
"Can't a man eat in peace?" His voice rattles her. It's deep and rough and too all-knowing. Like he already knew she was watching him from the moment he came into this tavern.
She clears her throat, "I have something for your boss."
Finally, he lifts his gaze to her face. For a moment, he just stares at her, observing every small detail with an odd familiarity, "My boss."
"Tell Drak that one of his spies has vital secrets about the King's financial affairs, and she's willing to share them for a price."
"And who are you?" The man leans back, his gaze shifting to Arthur. "Why is one of Drak's little birds traveling with the Prince of Camelot?" Her hand is on her dagger before the man can blink and positioned against a very important artery in his leg. The movement doesn't faze him. He takes another sip of his ale. "I'll wager gold that I can tell you exactly why you sat at my table."
