Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“Know-it-all,” Niamh mumbled under her breath.
Graves smirked, taking it as a compliment, before pushing the door open. A little bell jingled overhead announcing their arrival, but inside was loud enough that their entrance was lost in the cacophony.
And while the outside had reminded her of her city, the inside could have been a medieval pub. A dirt floor covered in straw opened up to a hard wooden bar and a bunch of wooden tables and benches. A goblin band was playing a collection of old string instruments and singing a bawdy tavern tune. Mugs of ale were thrust into the air as most of the occupants—a mix of monsters, predominantly goblins—sang along.
“It has a certain je ne sais quoi,” Niamh said.
“Feels like old times,” Graves agreed.
They grabbed a table with their backs to the wall, and then Graves went off to grab drinks. Kierse didn’t trust the ale in this place not to knock her on her ass, but they needed the disguise.
A barmaid in a knee-length brown dress dropped off a plate of crusty bread and cheese. “Drinks are at the bar, babes.”
“Thank you,” Niamh said properly.
The woman winked at her. “Love your accent.”
Niamh beamed. “Thanks, love.”
“Find me if you need anything.” The implication was clear as she bustled off to another table.
“Making friends with the locals, I see,” Graves said as he dropped three pints in front of them.
“I can hardly help that I’m irresistible.”
Kierse ignored them as she surveyed the room. She’d spent many an evening trapped in a dive bar waiting for an informant or a contact. It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d honed her skills on the backs of billionaires to scrounge enough of a living. Now she had millions in the bank from the spear heist, but she still felt like that same girl who had to be hyper-independent to survive.
“When is your contact showing?”
“He should be here any minute,” Graves assured her.
“What do I need to know about him?” She met his gaze. “And don’t give me any shit about how it’s ‘need to know.’ I need and I want to know. Dish.”
Niamh barely covered a laugh. “She has you there.”
“His name’s Vale. He’s a sort of mercenary around these parts. He knows enough magic to be dangerous, but there’s no one who knows the inner workings of the market better than he does.”
“So he’s a warlock?”
“He’s the child of a warlock,” Graves corrected. “Managed to get some magic of his own. Otherwise human.”
“Okay. And does he hate you?”
Niamh snorted. “I really like her, Graves. You should keep her around.”
“I intend to,” he said, holding her dark eyes. “We have a complicated relationship.”
“You and I? Or you and Vale?”
“He has a complicated relationship with everyone,” Niamh said.
“Is he your kid?” Kierse asked bluntly.
Niamh went still, either shocked that Kierse would ask or surprised she hadn’t considered it herself.
“No,” Graves said flatly.
He glanced down to his phone and sent out another message, clearly done with the interrogation. Kierse was tempted to press her luck. He was actually giving her information, and that was so unlike him that she wanted to see how far she could go.
But before she could open her mouth, a man in black leather lumbered over to their table. He had to be at least part troll, because he towered over them. His skin was a green-gray, and he had so many muscles that he looked part rock.
“Graves?” he grunted.
Graves came slowly to his feet. “Can I help you?”
“This you?”
He dropped a tablet down with a fuzzy picture of Graves on the screen. Underneath the image was an identification number of some sort and a price of two million goblin marks.
“Fuck, is that a bounty?” Kierse asked, scrambling to her feet. “A for-real bounty?”
“What did you do?” Niamh asked. She rose to stand as the rest of the bar turned to stare at them. Real inconspicuous.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Kierse shot him an exasperated look.
“We can do this nice and easy,” the man said, producing particularly ancient-looking metal shackles. “You come with me.”
Graves plucked his gloves off one finger at time. The fact that the gesture didn’t terrify the bounty hunter meant that the bounty didn’t include information on Graves’s particular power. The guy saw an easy score, probably assuming he was a human who had done something bad to someone important. Not a magic-wielding warlock.
“This is inconvenient,” Graves said. “Does it even say who wants me dead?”
Niamh shot him an exasperated look. “As if it isn’t your life mission.”
“Don’t care who is paying as long as I’m paid,” the bounty hunter grunted.
“An entrepreneur,” Kierse said. “You have to appreciate the gall.”
“Sounds like your kind of business strategy,” Graves said.
“Then just pay the guy.”
Graves arched an eyebrow. “I’m not paying him two million goblin marks to leave me alone.”
“Maybe he’ll settle for half.”