Page 90 of Pretense

Assuming they didn’t just camp in the forest somewhere outside of Estyra. That was also a possibility, but it would be nearly impossible to find them if that were the case.

Jalissa’s expression never wavered from that icy one. “Then lead the way.”

He set out into the quiet bustle of Estyra, taking in the details with even more bittersweet longing than before. After this mission, he would never see this city again.

If that was what it took to help Jalissa move on, then he’d do it. He’d promised himself, when he’d proposed their fake relationship, that he would help heal Jalissa’s broken heart and leave her better off than she was now.

But it seemed all he could do was break her heart yet again.

* * *

Edmund speared another bite of the mixed vegetables and meat piled onto a base of leafy greens on his plate. As he lifted the bite to his mouth, he sent a swift glance around the common room of the treetop hotel. Tables and chairs filled the room while a small countertop at one end provided a place for people to purchase a room and order a meal from the small kitchen at the base of the tree. The seating area spilled out onto an open-air deck space high above this back street of Estyra. It was nice, but not as large as some of the grander places to stay at the heart of the elven city.

At this time of the evening, twilight shrouded the forest, and the deck and tables outside were lit with elven lights strung through the leafy canopy overhead.

Jalissa and Sarya sat with him at the table. Jalissa was once again posing as his wife with Sarya as her sister. It had allowed them to get two rooms only one branch away from each other, and no one would notice if Jalissa bunked with Sarya rather than her supposed husband.

As he, Jalissa, and Sarya sat around a table near the center of the room, his back itched at being so exposed to the patrons clustered at the tables behind him. But the central table had given them the best view of the entire room, including the deck.

“Do you see anyone out of place?” He kept his voice low before he popped his bite into his mouth. He would miss elven food. They went for subtle flavors and textures over bold spices.

Jalissa started to shake her head, froze as she seemed to catch herself, then she dropped her gaze to her plate. “No. Everyone appears to be enjoying their evening meal.”

Sarya kept eating her own food. As she didn’t add anything, she must agree with Jalissa’s assessment of the elves at the tables they could see.

He ate several more bites before he allowed himself another casual glance around the room. The elves at the various tables all remained the same from the last time he’d glanced around, caught up in their own conversations. One elf read a book while he ate, sitting at a table in the far corner. But he seemed to be enjoying the book far too much for it to be merely a front to spy on the room the way Edmund was doing.

But there by the front desk, a male elf had his back to Edmund as he appeared to be ordering food.

Something about that elf…Edmund focused on him more intently. Were his shoulders just a little bit too broad for the average elf? And was that hair color the same shade as one of the wigs that were missing from the cabin hideout? The elf taking his order had a scrunched expression, as if the male elf was not speaking very clearly…or he was bungling the elvish.

The male elf turned slightly, tapping his fingers on the countertop as he waited in a gesture that was just a little too human. No elf showed that much obvious impatience in a room filled with strangers. The front desk elf frowned even more, eyes narrowing.

Edmund forced himself to look back to his plate, lest the Mongavarian spy feel the intensity of eyes watching his back. “Do not turn around, but one of the spies is at the front desk, ordering food.”

Jalissa’s back stiffened, but other than that, she followed his instructions and didn’t look up from her plate. “What do we do?”

“We can’t spook him.” Edmund forced himself to stab another bite of his food, even though his heart was starting to hammer in his chest, the buzzing rush of adrenaline beginning to spike through him. “When he gets his food and heads back to his room, I’ll follow him. Wait a few minutes, then the two of you can follow me. But stay well back. If we can find out where they are staying, then we can grab them tonight.”

Jalissa released a breath and gave the slightest of nods. Beside her, Sarya remained stiff and alert, a guard preparing for action.

Edmund risked another glance toward the spy at the front desk. He had stopped tapping his fingers and was instead inspecting the food that had been delivered to him. Yet Edmund could tell he was using the action to cover the way he was studying the elf at the front desk.

The male elf running the front desk was shifting, doing a bad job of hiding his suspicions. Had an alert been sent to inns to watch for the spies? The elf began to reach for the curl of the communication root, the communication system that ran throughout Estyra and all Tarenhiel.

Don’t do it, Edmund silently willed the elf. Don’t.

The elf at the front desk didn’t listen, of course. He began to tap on the root, sending a message.

The Mongavarian spy’s hand blurred as he reached inside his tunic.

Spitting a curse in elvish, Edmund shoved away from the table, his chair falling backwards. But he was already too late. The sound of his chair hitting the floor was muffled by the thunderous crack of a handgun firing, splintering the serene silence of the elven city.

The elf behind the front desk fell, blood already soaking the front of his clothes. Even as he fell, the spy was already turning in Edmund’s direction, cycling his revolver and leveling it at Edmund. For a split second their eyes met, and Edmund recognized the Sentinel’s head editor beneath the disguise.

Edmund tackled the elven woman that was between him and the spy, taking her to the ground as the gun went off again. His shoulder hit the ground while his back slammed into the center leg of the round table, sending the table toppling.

He had never heard elves scream in panic before. But their quiet city had never been disrupted by gunfire like this. More tables toppled. The pound of dozens of running feet filled the space.