Page 22 of His Noble Ruin

“Yes. And so do you.”

He nodded slightly, his face a bit green.

“Go on, then,” I said. “I’ll meet you outside.”

ChapterEight

Grahamand I rushed through the darkening streets. Suppressed laughter lingered in my throat from the euphoria of our escape. Thanks to the crowds pushing their way home for the night, we didn’t stand out. Graham’s simple clothing would keep most people from paying him notice or recognizing him, but it was no guarantee. As we went, the crowds thinned, and rain began to drizzle from the sky.

Through senses heightened by nerves, I heard the rhythm of determined footfalls several paces behind me. Cael’s boots had their own timbre—one that filled me with aggravation.

We left the center of the city, skirting the place where quarters D and C met, and spotted a pub without rank requirements. It would be best if Graham didn’t have to show his gold Immovable rank card. I was sure he didn’t want me to see it.

He pulled open the plain wooden pub door and peered inside. “Well, it’s certainly nothing fancy.”

“What do you expect?” I laughed. “It will probably be the humblest place you’ve ever stepped foot in.”

He smiled. “As long as it has food, it’s good enough.”

“Agreed.” I smiled.

He opened the door wider and waited for me to enter. I glanced back and briefly met eyes with Cael through the drizzling rain. He stood under the eaves across the street.

I stepped through the doorway and was greeted with a room as dim as the twilight outside. A low fire burned in a hearth, giving off the only light in the room. Just one occupant sat at a table. I chose a table for two in the corner, glad there weren’t any windows for a certain guard to spy through.

I nodded, inwardly approving. Quiet, cozy, and with an air of mystery, this pub was the perfect place to tell a secret, or to persuade someone to reveal his.

A server brought out pewter mugs and plates of seafood. Graham held his utensils regally, eating slowly and carefully. I ate heartily, with little concern for manners.

When I looked up from my plate, Graham was watching me with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile.

“If you knew how hungry I am, you wouldn’t judge my manners,” I said.

“I’m not judging them. I was attempting to figure you out, I suppose.”

I stopped stuffing shrimp in my mouth long enough to ask, “Have you come to a conclusion?”

He shook his head. “Hardly. Your accent and manners are casual, but you carry yourself like a queen.” He lifted his hand to his chin and narrowed his eyes. “You work in the library and look like a humble citizen, but still, something doesn’t fit.”

“I can’t say I’m often referred to as humble.”

“I didn’t intend to insult you. I meant that you simply look ordinary.”

“Humbleandordinary? Your compliments get better with each attempt.”

Graham’s face reddened. “Forgive me. I never know what to say.”

I didn’t mind. I didn’t need to look beautiful. I only needed to blend in.

“You’re equally confusing—a mysterious nobleman who prefers to remain nameless, apparently, eats dinner with commoners, and reads books written by outlaws.”

His mouth fell open. “So, the bookwaswritten by an outlaw?”

“Did I say that?” I speared some shrimp with my fork.

He frowned. “You know more than you’re telling me. I understand if you’re reluctant to tell me the truth, but your secrets are safe with me.”

“Are they?” I leaned over the table, looking him directly in the eye. “If you want to know my secrets, you have to be willing to share some of your own.”

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