Bethral paused, waited for a serving girl to ease through the door with her tray, and then slipped in behind her. If she was lucky, he’d be . . .
She was in luck. He was there.
EZREN Storyteller, also known as Ezren Silvertongue, was not one to eat in his room. He preferred the kitchens, with their wide hearths, warm baking ovens, and servants’ gossip.
He was careful to tuck in near the hearth, where he’d not get in the way of those busy with their tasks. The room smelled of warm bread, and there was hot whispering of the comings and goings of the noble lords and ladies.
Ezren stayed quiet, enjoying his bowl of pot oats sweetened with honey and cream, a mug of kav near at hand. He’d made it his habit to rise early and take this place, letting none serve him in bed like a lord. No, this was far more comfortable and far more worthwhile. Queen Gloriana needed his aid, and knowledge was valuable. Very valuable.
“More kav, Storyteller?” one of the cooks asked, holding out a fresh pot.
“Always,” Ezren swore.
The cook laughed, and poured. “They’ll be trussing up a carcass on the spit soon, for tonight’s dinner. Mind your clothes when they bring it in. The lads always get blood all over everything.”
“I’ll have a care.” Ezren smiled at her and took a sip. He’d have to leave soon, anyway. Evelyn and Blackhart were departing this morning, and Ezren wanted to bid them farewell.
Of course, Lord Marlon would be there as well, for he was going to open the portal for them. Ezren would have preferred not to come into the man’s presence, because Marlon was firmly convinced that Ezren needed to die, and by his hand.
Ezren sighed, catching a glimpse of the manacles that he wore hidden under his sleeves. The Lady High Priestess Evelyn had given them to him and explained their nature. They absorbed magic, including the wild magic that cursed him. Evelyn had been chained with them when she’d been captured.
He’d resisted them at first. Too many memories of his enslavement. But at Evelyn’s urging he’d put them on, and felt the pressure in his chest ease. Without the chains, they appeared to be heavy bracelets. And they did conceal the scarring around his wrists. Still, they made him uneasy. As if, at any moment, he’d find himself . . .
Ezren frowned at his breakfast. If wearing the manacles rendered the wild magic null, it was worth the cost. The people around him were safe. For now.
Evelyn had told him last night that she had learned they were only a temporary measure. The manacles would not last forever. Eventually they’d absorb all the magic they could, and crumble into so much dust.
Well, that was for another day. For now, Ezren needed to finish eating. He took another sip of kav, then froze.
She was here. In the kitchens.
He kept the mug up, using it to cover his face as he let his eyes scan the room. They caught a sparkle of light off plate and a glint of golden hair. There, between the kitchen and the pantry.
Lady Bethral.
It was just a glimpse, and then she was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the room beyond. Moving like a silent spirit, even in full armor.
His . . . no . . . an Angel of Light, who had rescued him and saved his life. Lord of Light, Lady of Laughter, she was lovely. Tall, powerful, with hair like gold and blue eyes like a spring sky . . . and not for the likes of him.
The kav suddenly went bitter in his mouth. Why would she give him a second look? Whipped, scarred, a man unable to save himself from being enslaved. No real skill with sword or dagger, and no equal to her. A storyteller with a broken voice, no longer able to enthrall an audience, much less a woman of her—
“Lord Ezren?”
Ezren turned from his thoughts and saw one of the palace clerks hurrying toward him. “Lord, there is some question concerning damages done at the Flying Pig Tavern last night. The men were there at your expense, and the innkeeper has presented this bill. . . .” The man held out a roll of parchment.
Ezren stifled a curse at the amount. “Blackhart’s men. It has to be. Let us go talk with this innkeeper.”
BETHRAL paused in the doorway and watched as Ezren held his mug