Page 89 of MidKnight
Quinn chuckled in my head.I brought a reversal spell for both of us. For after.
Quinn sent an image. It was he and I (in our normal forms) behind a tavern and under the stars. He bent me against a wall in an alley, plunging into me from behind. I braced myself on the stone and my cheek rasped against it as he rode me hard. He held my breasts as he took me where anyone might see.
His fantasy gave me half a hardon. I had to adjust the damned dick.
I smacked him.
Knock that off. Or I won’t be able to focus tonight.
Don’t tell me that. Now, I’ll be tempted to tease you.
Knock that off or I’ll bugger you.
That sent Quinn’s eyes wide.No thanks. I’ll be good. Promise.
I laughed. Now I had a trick up my sleeve to keep my spy master in line.
Apparently, he didn’t like it in the moon.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Roasted Goose was our destination. Quinn and I took bottles of Flight to save time and cut down on interaction throughout the capital.
We landed in the woods and made our way toward the tavern lights. The stone tavern on the outskirts of Marscha was rowdy.
Inside, a minstrel strummed a lute in the corner. People chatted and danced and yelled. The smells of ale and bread filled the air as people drank and sopped up their drunkenness with thin stew in bread trenchers.
The entire scene made me slightly nostalgic for Kylee’s tavern. This group didn’t seem to have barrel fever quite as bad as the miners’ used to, but that was a good thing. Fewer fisticuffs from blind drunk fools.
Quinn had no qualms about cutting through the crowd. I followed the best I could, but my frame was much thicker and shorter than his. People didn’t naturally part for me. I fell behind and there were a few people between us.
A prostitute was taking bids for her evening. When she looked at me questioningly, I shook my head and she said, “You sure? We’re playing three to one tonight. You look like you could use a pump, sugar.”
She winked and plumped up her breasts for my perusal.
I shook my head again and she rolled her eyes. “Browneyes are in the back, then.”
I just pressed my lips together and nodded. I wasn’t here for sex. With men or women.
I pushed through the crowd, tapping one man’s arm and asking to get past.
When I touched him, I noticed something unusual. He had a white armband on his shirt.
After I’d moved past him, I looked around. I hadn’t noticed at first, because most people wore white shirts. Dye was expensive.
The tavern was full of people with white bands on their arms. My gut tightened. My intuition rang like the castle’s alarm bell. I searched my memory for whatever might have triggered my response. Someone started clapping along with the music. And that’s when I knew. Clapping. Arm bands. The plow races. The most popular man at the plows had worn a white arm band. The group cheering for him had been the largest. The most organized.
My stomach dropped like a stone in a well. I felt sick.
I’d come here hoping to learn what lies Isla and Raj were about to feed my people. I’d come in the hope I could prevent the rebellion from spreading to Evaness.
But if Quinn had brought me here … if this tavern was where the rebels were meeting … I was already too late. I looked around. I was walking through a sea of white armbands.
Someone had already sewn and distributed the bands. That took money, time, dedication.
Shite, I thought. Shite. The rebellion against Sedara is already here.
I didn’t get to Quinn before a man started talking near me. “This is all long overdue. We should be able to travel without using their sarded up, piss-poor old boats.”
