Page 91 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

Kheldryn nods, determination taking hold of her expression. “We will. Don’t worry.”

Taking a breath, I direct my focus to the road ahead. Motioning to Asheros, I creep forward and lower my stance. Angling my head forward, I clear my mind, urging it to be still. Alert.

Ready.

We scan both sides of the street, but there isn’t much to observe. An occasional wagon passing by, or a person walking briskly by us with wary glances. Humans, mostly, notable by their rounded ears.

Whatever’s amiss here, the locals must sense it, too.

There’s a sense of dread lining my stomach, but I can’t place what’s causing it. Continuing farther ahead, we approach the inn and tavern. Laughter spills through the cracks in the building’s stone walls, no doubt the product of liquid courage and hot meals. From what I can see, the tavern’s the busiest place in the entire town, people packed in tightly around worn, wooden tables.

Making for the door, I motion my head toward the building. “In here.”

Close at my heels, Asheros follows.

We don’t know what we’re walking into, or who could be hiding in the tavern in plain sight. If it was anyone else accompanying me, I’d remind them to be on their guard. But with Asheros, there’s no need. He always seems to know what I’m thinking without me having to voice it.

Pushing the door open, I step inside. The warmth of the hearth is first to greet me, followed by the smell of cheap ale. A bard singing a ballad plays a lute in the back corner, adding a pleasant layer to the noise.

A tired-looking woman behind the bar mumbles a “Hello” while rubbing fatigue from her temples. “Can I get you anything?”

Flashing a polite smile, I shake my head. “We’re all right, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” the woman says. “I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

Moving farther into the crowded tavern, unease slithers down my spine, finding its way into my tight abdomen. There doesn’t appear to be anything wrong here, so why is every instinct telling me to leave this place? I’ve never feared tracking a target before. Long ago, under Ceren’s guidance, I’d learned to subdue my fears.

So why won’t they rest?

I scan the tavern’s patrons, most of whom are too busy with their tankards to notice my stare. The ones who do, either look away quickly after meeting my eyes, or suggestively raise their brows. The latter are mostly males. Males desperate for a female’s comfort, if I had to guess.

Holding my gaze, one male rises to his feet to approach me. Then he freezes, swallows, and slowly sits back down.

I glance over my shoulder and catch Asheros’s icy glare. His expression relaxes when he notices me looking at him.

Chuckling softly, I redirect my focus to the sea of people in front of me.

And then I see him.

In the farthest corner from where Asheros and I now stand, is a hooded figure sitting with his back arched over the table. As if wary of being seen, his hands guard his face, and while all the other tables are full, this hooded figure sits alone.

Gesturing two fingers to my left, a silent command, I go right. Carefully, I ease my step with the hopes of not being singled out from the half-drunk crowd until it’s too late. Understanding my wordless signal, Asheros follows my lead, mirroring me on the left side. Parallel to each other, Asheros and I advance, moving in until we block our target on both sides.

The hooded figure’s shoulders tense.

Without turning around or dropping his hood, he knows he’s cornered. My blood thrums in my veins, the thrill of the hunt pounding in my ears.

Surging to his full height, the hooded figure whirls around with incredible speed. He darts between us, but not before I get a glimpse of what I need—those identifiable red eyes. But in the time it takes Asheros and I to react, the male dashes across the tavern and out the door.

The room falls silent all at once, the patrons and staff exchanging intrigued and tired looks, respectively. But the moment is short-lived, and the tavern reverts back to its usual state, as though nothing’s amiss.

Hesitation has never been one of my faults, and it sure as hell isn’t now. Instinct propels me into action, and I’m sprinting out the door without even having to think.

Movement whirrs in the corner of my eye, and like a wolf tracking a scent, I pursue. I push myself to go faster and faster and faster still, my thighs beginning to burn from the physical strain. My surroundings are but a blur, my vision solely trained on my objective.

The hooded figure makes a sharp right turn behind a modest house.

Just seconds behind him, I round the same corner, taking full breaths to fuel my stamina. I pass a sparse wood into a meadow. I have no idea how far we are from the town center, but I don’t dare look back in fear of losing my target.

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