Page 35 of To Bleed A Kingdom

“Of course, I bathed,” Zander replies with an indignant raise of his chin.

I gesture to his clothes with a wave of my hand. “Then why are you in the same filthy clothes you had on yesterday?”

Folding his thick arms over his chest, he glances down at his soiled tunic. “Because all my clothes are dirty, and the brothel didn't have anything large enough to fit me.”

“You could wash them,” I say slowly, wondering how he can handle the smellwith his heightened shifter senses when I barely can.

He cocks his head to the side, looking at me as if I've grown another head. “That's a female’s job.”

Amara and I stare at him in silence as we process his words. Once I've come to the conclusion that, no, he didn't misspeak and yes, his words are offensive, I snap my arm out and twist his nipple.

“Aaaah!”

“That was completely warranted,” Amara murmurs. I nod in agreement.

Tristan pinches his nose. “Remember what we talked about? About thinking before speaking?”

Grimacing while rubbing his nipple in a circular motion, Zander’s gaze darts to the ceiling and we wait patiently for his words to click. After a few minutes, his eyes widen and his mouth shapes into a silent O.

“Oh, yes. I can see how that was interpreted. Point taken. Anywho, most of my clothing is worn beyond repair and in need of replacing.” Folding his arms on the table he leans forward, his expression becoming somber as he speaks in a hushed voice. “I figured I'd purchase a few items at the market. Meet with some of the locals. See what this city’s busybodies are talking about.”

When passing through any town, our first task is to ingratiate ourselves with the people. With Amara having very little patience and my personality considered too abrasive for most, that task usually falls to Zander. Using only his natural charm, he’s quite gifted in loosening tongues, whether that's by befriending a chatty male at the local tavern or from the female workers at the brothel. The brothel is usually his main source of information since males tend to not hold much regard for whores and more often than not indulge in ill-advised pillow talk. Even so, respect and sufficient coin go a long way, and Zander is a master at using both to his advantage.

But in the rare instances Zander has difficulty garnering this information, we then employ Tristan’s more subtle skills. With his unassuming appearance and knack for fading into the background, most are oblivious to his stealthy presence. How he manages to slink within earshot to the most private discussions has always baffled me. I can only assume he was an assassin in a past life.

“That'll work, but don't lay the charm on too thick,” I say, recalling some of the citizens' almost hostile reactions to us. “These beings are a suspicious lot.”

“With good reason,” Tristan says. “They’ve lost a lot more than other kingdoms.”

“And a lot less than others,” Amara murmurs, staring unseeing down at the table.

My chest begins to throb in tune with my heart, and I reach over and clasp our hands together, squeezing until she meets my gaze with a sad smile. Offering her a small smile of my own, I pat her hand before redirecting my attention to Zander.

“Go ahead and work the market. See what information you can glean, but back off if anyone becomes suspicious. I don't want them asking too many questions.” Drinking the last sip of the cooled coffee, my gaze wanders to Tristan. “Amara and I have to go to Aurora's shop today. Why don't you tag along with Zander?”

Tristan glances down at the table and shuffles awkwardly in his chair, an uncommon reaction for our usually unflappable partner. “I thought I'd accompany you and Amara today.”

With a raise of a black brow, I urge him to elaborate.

Regaining his usual stoic expression, he crosses one leg over the other and clasps his hands in his lap. “I think Zander will gain more information without my presence. Cascadonians don’t seem overly fond of humans.” His lips tighten in distaste, which I more than share, before he gives me a knowing look. “Besides, you and Amara can chat with the princess while I search her shop.”

Agreeing with his thought process, I jerk a nod in the same moment I hear the slide of slippered feet. Pausing our discussion, I glance up at where Lottie loiters at the edge of the table, holding two bowls.

Without a word, she glowers down at us and tosses both bowls towards me and Amara. The bowls clatter and spin across the table, slopping porridge all over the sides as she turns her back on us and stomps back to her spot behind the counter.

“She really doesn’t like us, does she?” Tristan asks with a curl of his lip.

Amara bends forward and sniffs warily “You think she poisoned it?”

“Probably,” I reply, my stomach churning at the sight of the blackened yet white, undercooked chunks.

Zander clasps my hand with his and tugs me out of my seat. “Come on. There's a pastry cart right around the corner. I think I even saw a banket.”

Perking up at the thought of the delicious almond pastry, my stomach begins to slow its revolt as we all stand and stride towards the door. Lottie tracks our every step with a smug smirk, her sharpened ears twitching in amusement.Starving and at my wits end with the unsavory female, I wait until I'm only a few paces away and then lurch toward her with a hiss, snapping my blunt teeth within an inch of her face.

She shrieks and stumbles backwards and Amara and I laugh as we trail behind the others.

At the tinkle of the bell above the open door, Tristan exhales a long-suffering sigh. “Can't take you two anywhere.”

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