Page 17 of Empire of Death
“Looks like I’m going to get that pint after all.” Hawk watched the girls behind the counter then stared at the one who approached our table. She was busty and blond and pretty much every man’s type, and my brother hadn’t blinked once since he’d seen her.
Her eyes were sheathed with quiet hostility as she looked at the two of us. “Yes?”
“Two pints,” I said. “Two orders of whatever your special is. And a word with the Keeper.”
Her eyes remained locked on mine as she processed the request. She seemed surprised that I even knew what the Keeper was, but she didn’t ask.
“Queen Lily Rothschild of the Southern Isles requests his presence.”
She still didn’t utter a word before she walked off.
Hawk watched her go, turning his neck as hard as everyone had turned their necks to us when we’d walked in here. “Maybe I’ll have more than a pint.”
“She didn’t seem remotely interested in you.”
“Only because of your very unpleasant company.”
“I don’t care what you do on your own time, but let’s focus on this first.” I felt a little guilty saying that, considering I had been whisked away to an unknown island while he’d slept just ten feet away from me.
He watched her move behind the counter before he looked at me again. “She’s my type.”
“She’s so hot, she’s even my type,” I said. “But work now and fun later.”
When he realized what I’d said, he slowly turned back to me, eyebrow raised. “Wait, what?”
“It’s a joke, Hawk.”
The bar maiden returned and bent down to place our tankards on the table, and of course, her goodies were out everywhere. She also brought two plates that each held a bowl of stew and a side of bread.
I wondered if Wrath was there, getting the same view as Hawk or a glance from the rear. I felt a wave of jealousy and insecurity that was so idiotic, I hated myself a little bit.
Hawk couldn’t even try not to stare. He even stared at her ass when she walked away. It took him a long time to turn back to the table and drink from his pint. He grabbed his spoon and started to eat his stew, elbows on the table, careful with his sharp vambraces and his spiked gloves.
We ate in silence for a while, and I watched the main door to see who came inside. My eyes naturally flicked to the chair beside Hawk, expecting to see Wrath there, but he never appeared. The pain in my chest was like a worm that burrowed deeper and deeper and destroyed my heart in the process. I knew I shouldn’t let the feeling linger because Zehemoth was attuned to my emotions since we’d grown up together. He knew me better than anyone else, even my own brother.
Finally, the Keeper stepped inside, and I knew it was him in a single glance. I could tell by the way everyone looked at him, the way the energy in the pub changed the second he introduced his own energy into it. Dressed in all black, with a maroon bandanna over his head that kept back his midnight-black hair and a linen button-down with trousers rolled up around his ankles, he looked like a seafarer even though he probably never left the island. His eyes moved to me like he already knew who I was based on my description alone.
And probably because I was the only female patron in that bar—and the only one who wore armor made for war. He began his slow approach across the bar, and every time he passed a table, the occupants fell silent, as if he might address them.
Hawk had his back to him, so he couldn’t see.
“He’s headed this way,” I said as I kept my eyes on Hawk so it wouldn’t be obvious what I referred to.
He stopped eating and washed down his last bite with a drink from his pint.
The Keeper stopped at the edge of the table and looked straight at Hawk. “Leave.”
Hawk remained as relaxed as ever, staring at him with the same stubborn eyes my father possessed.
“He’s fine where he is,” I chimed in to disrupt their silent standoff. “Have a seat.”
He turned his attention to me. “Lose the guard dog or leave.” He was tall, taller than me, judging where his waist hit the table. It was hard to gauge his age because of the weathered appearance of his face, the exposure of his skin to the salt from the sea and the sunshine. But I had to guess he was somewhere between five and ten years older than me, at least in appearance. But he seemed more grizzled in personality, aged like wine, reminding me of Hawk in that way.
Hawk exchanged a look with me.
I gave a nod.
Hawk rose from his seat and had a silent stare off with the pirate, the men at the same height. Then Hawk took his tankard off the table and moved to another table on the other side of the room.
