“Originally Salt Bay, though.”
The doubt softens. “That’s quite a ways from here.”
“Ever been?”
“Nah. Never been past Norcaster. No reason to.”
“It’s nice in the south.” I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t press further.
“People been sayin’ they’re all up in arms over these Ybarisans the king let across the rift.”
“They’ve caused a lot of problems for a lot of people.”
“Some say that. Then some say the Ybarisans are tryin’ to help the mortals.” He shrugs. “That’s not me sayin’ it, but it’s some people.”
“Some mortals.”
“Aye. Ones who want freedom like I have.” He flicks his naked earlobe. “These people, living ’round here?” He waves a finger around the room. “’Course they have it a bit better than those in the south. From what I’ve heard, anyway. But they’d still rather not have keepers to deal with, and a lot of ’em have been talkin’. There’s been a lot of talk.”
“About what?”
He shrugs, his eyes cutting to me, then away. “Things.”
About being rid of their keepers, living for themselves. I know what he’s hinting at, but I can’t push too hard or he’ll get cagey. I switch gears. “I’ve heard these Ybarisans are cruel.”
“They ain’t so bad.” He pauses. “From what I heard, anyway. I wouldn’t know.” He slurps his ale.
“So, you’re from Norcaster?”
“Nah.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just down to get some supplies before I head back up to Woodswich. Ever heard of it?”
This explains the lack of a cuff. “Mortals live without keepers up there, right?”
“Been there all my life. Me and my wife, Norel, and our flock of chickens and goats. Never came down here until I turned into an old, ugly bugger. Nobody bothers me.”
I lean in, layering on a healthy dose of giddy innocence to stroke this fool’s ego. “What’s it like there? Are the rumors true?”
“Depends what you’ve heard.”
“Let’s see …” I pretend to pick my thoughts. He’s exactly what I was hoping to find here—someone who will divulge anything I want to know whether he realizes it or not.
I’m almost certain he’s met Princess Romeria’s soldiers.
I can’t believe my luck.
A commotion stirs, turning heads toward the doorway, where Jarek has strolled in, all leather, blades, and hard lines.
My body tenses. An angry Jarek, I am terrified of.
He locates me in seconds, and the murderous look on his face only adds to my apprehension.
Like in Bellcross’s square, people fall back as he cuts through the crowd, as if they can sense the fury radiating off the warrior, and they know he’ll walk through them. Or maybe it’s his size that inspires them to move. He’s a full head taller than most.
Whatever is about to happen, it isn’t going to be pleasant for me. Still, I plaster on an adoring smile and wave him over. “There he is!”
Fearghal watches Jarek approach with a note of concern. “That’s your mate?”
“Yes. Isn’t he handsome? Hey, honey, did you find us a room for the night?” I call out, the words dripping with sweetness.