Page 65 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“Can do.” The woman nods. “I’ll be back with those shortly.”

I smile again before she leaves. Viridian is silent, expression wary.

“Relax,” I tell him. “No one here knows who you are.”

That seems to ease him a bit.

“Give me your coin purse,” I say, holding out my hand.

“Why?” The tension returns to Viridian’s jaw. A flicker of distrust.

“I’m not going to take the money and run,” I explain. Part of me flinches at his lack of faith in me, but I understand it. If I were in his place, that thought would cross my mind, too. “Contrary to what you might think, information isn’t free.”

He holds my stare for a moment, before producing the coin purse from his pocket and placing it in my palm.

“Wait here.” I stand, gesturing over my shoulder. “I’ll talk to the barkeep.”

He nods.

I weave through the tables until I reach the bar. Those men are still there. Now that I’m closer, I see there are two of them, both knee-deep in their ale. The barkeep stands with his arms crossed but lowers them when he sees me.

“What can I get for ya?” he asks.

“Nothing at the moment,” I reply, leaning on the bar with my hands clasped. “I just want to talk.”

“All right,” the barkeep says. His body language tells me that he’s used to this.

“My friend’s not one for gossip.” I keep my voice light, taking out a couple coins. “Got anything good?”

The barkeep’s eyes fall to the silver in my hand. “Depends on what gossip interests you.”

“Something about the nobles?” I press the coins to the counter. “The High King?”

The barkeep snorts and takes the coins, dropping them into the pocket of his apron. “You’re one of those.”

“You can’t blame a lady for her tastes.” I slide my elbows forward. “So, you have something for me?”

“Yes.” The barkeep nods, adjusting the towel on his shoulder. “I might.”

Withdrawing another coin, I wave my hand toward myself. “Do tell.”

The barkeep moves closer to me. “The High King just threw his first ball in years, a night or two ago.”

Viridian’s and my engagement ball.

“Oh?” I arch a brow, acting like this is new information. “How long ago was the last ball he hosted?”

“A long, long time ago.” The barkeep lowers his voice. “Before the High Queen died.”

“How long ago did the High Queen die?” Vorr has ruled alone for as long as I can remember.

I give him another coin.

“One hundred years, at least.” The barkeep strokes his chin, adding the silver piece to his pocket. “Maybe more.”

My eyes widen.

That means…

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