Page 104 of Of Sword & Silver

The Sword and I have barely had time to speak to one another, save for working out the specifics of his part in the heist.

It’s better that way. I stretch out my feet, my toes tingling from being tucked under me for hours.

My stomach grumbles. Food. I’m hungry.

The others see to it that I’m fed, but I hardly sleep, taking the potions Caedia has on hand more frequently, my lungs tight and full of fluid.

Tonight, I lay my life on the line and pray to all the gods save one that I’ve accounted for everything.

“Did you sleep at all?” Lara asks, yawning as she strides into the living room.

“I took a catnap,” I tell her. “The dresses?—”

“They’ll be here at noon,” she tells me, smiling, though her eyes are worried. “You need to sleep, Kyrie.”

“No, we need to go over the plan again. I made some changes to it this morning.”

A knock sounds, and Dario strides into the room. He’s been in and out of our rooms while I’ve been scheming and I take him in, scrutinizing his appearance.

There are dark circles under his eyes, his face pallid and tired.

I know how he feels.

“Is it done?” I ask, my voice a croak. So much hinges on what he’s been doing.

“With the help of your Sword, yes. The barrels are full, and I will have nightmares for the rest of my life about the contents.” Disgust winds through the words, and for the first time since I met Dario, I know he’s telling the absolute truth. “What a waste of a rare vintage.”

“You could still try drinking it,” I tell him cheerily, biting into a piece of smoked sausage I’ve been nibbling since last night. “In fact, the vintage is even more rare now. Truly one-of-a-kind.”

Dario turns a little green. “I don’t know how you can eat while we discuss this.”

“Easy. I’m hungry.” The tray of half-eaten food sits on a table next to me, and I eye a hunk of cheese before popping it in my mouth too.

Cheese is life.

“The casks were delivered this morning. I just came from overseeing it,” Dario says on a sigh.

Lara’s watching him carefully, her fingers tightly gripping the back of one of the armchairs.

Dario settles on the armchair closest to the fire, stretching his boots out towards the heat.

“Were they delivered where we need them?” I ask carefully.

“You know I can’t guarantee that. I told them exactly what you instructed me to, and if Alaric plays to type, at least one of the rarest casks will be with the rest of his hoard.”

I blow out a breath, leaning my head back onto the chair and studying the ceiling. “It’s a risk.”

“It was always going to be a risk.” Lara takes a slice of browning apple, chewing thoughtfully.

“Any chance you can see how it plays out?” I ask her.

“I can’t tell you anything that might change the course of the night,” she says cryptically.

“Of course not. Or, you know, you could, and the gods and fate be damned,” I tell her sweetly.

She just sighs.

“You look like shit,” Dario tells me.

---