Page 83 of Silverbow
Enya eyed the window. “So why aren’t we leaving?”
“Because thanks to your little stunts on the way here, we have to wait for an opening.”
“What kind of opening?”
“The kind we can buy our way through since we can’t risk wielding a deception at the gates.”
“You’re going to bribe a guard?”
“We already did. Which is why we have to leave at dawn. And in case it goes awry,” Oryn reached inside his pocket and took out a long leather cord. On it, dangled his heavy gold signet ring. He held it out to her.
“What’s this?” She asked.
“Insurance. In the event we become separated, it may be of use to you.”
Enya squinted at the bird in flight. “Is it a hawk or something?”
“Something like that,” he nodded. “Show it to any demi-elf and ask for an escort east. Show it to any dwarf in Tuminzar and ask for Leon. If all else fails, show it to any northman and ask for Cedric.”
“Is your house that powerful?” She asked, wishing she’d paid a bit more heed to her lessons, and that her ribs weren’t aching like they’d been set afire. There were no Brydoves in any books she remembered, of course there wasn’t much about the demi-elves at all in any of her lessons.
Oryn shrugged. “Some still remember.”
“And the ones who don’t?”
Oryn sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “If you’re taken by Peytar Ralenet, you tell him I’ll be coming to fetch it back.”
Enya shifted under the intensity of Oryn’s stare.
“Are you going to take my bow?”
He snorted. “You aren’t going to escape me, Silverbow. And even if you did, I want you to live, remember?”
twenty-two
Enya
Enya groaned as she rolled out of bed at Oryn’s prodding, pain lancing across her middle. Between her racing thoughts, Oryn lording over her, and the throb in her ribs, she hadn’t dozed more than a few minutes.
“Let me see it,” he demanded.
She glowered at him.
“Let me see it.”
Enya begrudgingly raised her shirt to reveal a thick band of bruises where his bond of air or whatever it was had stopped her from smashing into the paving stones. She was too proud to ask exactly what he’d done. He bent to inspect it more closely in the flickering candlelight, his breath warm against her skin. She shifted back half a step.
“You’ll live.”
“Unfortunately for you,” she huffed.
“Don’t say that,” he snapped.
“It was just a joke.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” she muttered.
