Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
“Just when I thought we were done, another knight came to our aid with his troops.”
This wasn’t in the books. Reynald Karis was telling me something about himself that he probably kept private. He was trusting me with it.
“Nobody would’ve blamed this knight for not showing up. It was heavily suggested to him that he shouldn’t try so hard on my behalf. Yet he rendered aid anyway, because he had judged it right and that was the kind of man he was. He knew there would be consequences. People would make things difficult for him. When I brought it up, he looked me in the eye and said, ‘Fuck ‘em.’”
I blinked. “That’s really what he said?”
Reynald nodded.
“I had expected something more . . . profound.”
“So did I. But he was a soldier, Maggie. Not a sage. His superiors wanted him to let other soldiers die to settle a grudge. He held them in contempt. He didn’t worry. He didn’t waver. He felt nothing but disdain and a distinct lack of fear.”
His expression turned harsh.
“Fuck the kind of people who would sacrifice eighty souls to further their ambitions. You can’t bear responsibility for their actions. I’ve lost people before. Trust me when I say this: The weight of knowing you could’ve saved eighty lives and didn’t is too heavy to live with. If you want to save the mercenaries, do it. I will stand with you. The powers behind it will do what they will do, and we’ll deal with that, too.”
“You will back me up?”
“I will.”
I could’ve hugged him. Instead, I nodded, pushed away from the rail, and we walked side by side back the way we came.
“We can steal the barrel,” Reynald said, his expression thoughtful. “Just one question.”
Anxiety nipped at me. “What kind of question?”
He looked at me, his expression deadly serious. “Will it be fresh enough, Maggie?”
Damn it. “I know that salt is a mineral. I wanted to find out when the next shipment was coming in.”
Reynald laughed. It was such an unexpected sound. When he smiled, his whole face lit up, his eyes turned bright and green, and I wanted to smile back at him, but when he laughed, it was on a whole other level.
“It’s not funny,” I told him.
“You’re wrong. It’s hilarious. You’re hilarious.”
We reached the staircase.
“Hold my arm, Maggie. I don’t want you tumbling down the stairs.”
“I can walk on my own, thank you very much.”
He laughed again.
I picked up the hem of my gown and concentrated on not falling.
CHAPTER 14
PLANTER 11
I surveyed the purchases arranged on the laundry table. It was barely morning. A faint breeze swirled through the courtyard, bringing with it a hint of the ocean. The sky glowed with gentle blue, veiled here and there with pink-tinted clouds. Kair Toren had pulled out all the stops for this sunrise.
Yesterday when we came back from the docks, Reynald talked to Gort for a while. Our precious salt was delivered by cart and installed in a secure spot with a strict warning to not touch the seal. Reynald spoke to Kaiden at length about it. When Clover found out how much we had paid for it, she turned slightly green and went to recalculate the budget.
In the evening Gort had left. He came back late, completely plastered, and announced that Will had a job on the Yolentas’ dock crew. Apparently, the Yolentas often hired veterans for their loading and unloading, reasoning that people who knew how to handle themselves would be good at protecting cargo. Gort had served with one of the supervisors and whatever sob story he told the man over the ale mugs and a plate of greasy tavern food had worked. This morning Will had departed before dawn.
We wouldn’t know anything until he came back, and I needed to use this time to get our legitimate business up and running. I had no illusions—this was the calm before the storm, but I could either wait and marinate in my anxiety or work. I chose work.
I claimed the section of the courtyard with an open firepit, where Clover had previously boiled laundry in the huge pot. I’d made a small fire, hung one of our spare cauldrons over it, and dragged a scale and a set of weights I found in Derog’s office to the utility table sitting there. Then I got paper and one of the reed pens from my office and arranged our purchases, while Clover anxiously hovered nearby.
“I bought everything on your list,” Clover said.
I glanced at the gathering of barrels, jars, and vials. “I see that.”
“A short barrel of pan oil at fifteen dens,” Clover recited. “He wanted twenty for it, which would have been highway robbery.”
Pan oil came from Rellasian olives and served as the main oil in local cooking. It was also pricey. The short barrel contained about five gallons or so, and it had cost us a pretty penny even with Clover’s haggling skills.