Page 146 of Royal Rebel

“Only a few?” He tugged his wrist free. “Stay close.” With that final admonishment, he approached the table.

Serene placed her bet, then held her mug with both hands.

Cardon sat at the table with his sleeves pushed up, leaving his forearms bare. His opponent was larger, his arms thicker, but the corded muscle of Cardon’s arms could not be ignored. Final bets were made, then the crowd hushed. The air was more expectant than before. Perhaps because Cardon was a stranger—an unknown.

Cardon and his opponent clasped hands, their elbows braced on the table. The man across from Cardon looked eager.

Cardon’s expression was calm.

The signal for the match was called, and the clasped hands on the table barely wavered as both men engaged in the fight. Every roped muscle in Cardon’s body seemed to tense, though his face remained smooth.

The longer their hands remained locked together, unmoving, the more the crowd began to stir. Muttering turned to cheering.

Cardon’s opponent clenched his teeth.

A vein in Cardon’s temple lifted, and he truly began to push. The reigning victor’s lip curled as he attempted to resist the mounting pressure.

He failed three heartbeats later, when his knuckles slammed against the table. Cardon pulled back, a small, satisfied smile playing about his lips.

Groans and shouts of victory warred in the crowd, and the gathered men and women begged them to go again. Cardon placed his elbow on the table, his hand open and ready.

His opponent took a deep breath, flexing his hand once before he grabbed hold. The rematch lasted slightly longer, but the outcome was the same.

Serene clapped along with the rest, and when Cardon’s eyes lifted to find her, she gave him an impressed grin.

More men in the crowd wanted to try their luck against Cardon, and he obligingly stayed at the table.

Serene could have watched him for hours, but he was as distracted as he was going to get; she needed to move.

She eased back, letting the eager crowd press closer to the table and shield her from view. She started back to the bar, catching Wilf’s eye as she went. She lifted her mug in silent explanation, though the tankard wasn’t empty.

Wilf didn’t rise to follow her, but he continued to track her.

At the bar, Serene waved down the barkeeper. She passed him the mug and asked if he owned the tavern. He shook his head. “My father does.”

“Is he here?” she asked.

He pointed to the end of the bar, where an older man was eating.

Serene thanked him and the barkeep nodded, already moving to help another patron.

She moved toward the older man, who sat alone, slightly hunched. Serene took the stool beside him. “Why theFiddlerand not thePiper?” she asked.

His eyes widened slightly, but he answered, “A pipe is fine, but a fiddle is better.”

It wasn’t the most creative code, but it did the job. Serene lowered her voice. “Do you know me?”

He shook his head slightly. “Just know who must have sent you. And if you have Carrigan’s trust, you have mine.”

Many people in Devendra might curse Carrigan’s name, but in Zennor, many believed he’d fought Newlan to protect their beloved princess—Serene’s mother. For Carrigan’s attempts to save Aren all those years ago, he had a network of loyal followers in two kingdoms, and he’d turned them over to Serene when she’d decided to rebel against her father. Without him, Serene wouldn’t have been able to form her rebellion so quickly or so well.

Long ago, when Clare had asked if Serene thought Carrigan was involved in the rebellion in Devendra, Serene had lied to protect her mentor and ally. She would lie again, in an instant, to guard him. But even though she preferred to keep Carrigan in the shadows, she needed his help. Things in Eyrinthia were too dire, and his help would be invaluable. Despite being a criminal in Devendra, he managed to stay well-connected with the goings-on in all the kingdoms. He was the one who had opened her eyes to the truth about her mother’s death. Newlan had poisoned his wife, and Grandeur had found out and done nothing. Carrigan had shown the proof to Serene, but more than that, he had helped her plot her revenge.

“I need you to get a message to Carrigan,” Serene told the old man. “Tell him Serene Demoi is in Zennor, on her way to the capital. Tell him to meet her there as soon as he’s able.”

She could see the moment understanding dawned. The man’s eyes flew wide. “Serene?” He sucked in a breath, moisture clouding his eyes. “Fates, you . . . you’re as beautiful as your mother. I saw her once—years ago.”

Serene’s expression softened. “Thank you. Can you get this message to him?”

---