Feeling more certain of my own direction, I begin to ink in her outline.
Chapter
Eight
“We must be really bad at this game, huh?” Jules has concern painted all over her wide gray eyes and scrunched-up nose. She wrings her hands nervously, warming up a d20 between her palms.
Liam’s mouth quirks into a small, amused smile. “What makes you say that?”
“We failed our first quest,” she groans. “Who’s going to hire a group of adventurers that failed theirfirst quest?”
Morgan tugs at her braids irritably. “The witch lady escaped. Where the hell are we meant to go from here?”
“Is it because we rolled so bad?” I ask, recalling how poorly last session’s combat had gone for us—or, more accurately, how poorly it had gone forme.
I remember Liam calmly walking us through each step.
Okay, Jules, so you want Kain to rush up and try to slice at one of the evil druids, right? Roll a d20. What’s that—an eighteen? Excellent. Kain rushes forward and cuts the druid down, badly wounding him.
And you, Loren, your rays of fire pierce into the druid’s armor, setting it aflame.Liam had pointed to a handful of six-sided dice.We’ll need you to roll those and add them together to see how much damage you do…eleven points? Beautiful.
Jaylie. You want to try to cast a spell on the witch to stop her fromescaping? Big roll for you here. Let’s see. A…nine?He’d paused and given me a gentle, pitying shake of his head.Not quite good enough.
Liam opens his mouth to answer my question, but Noah beats him to it. “Failing is half the fun, isn’t it? We leave the story up to the dice—good rolls and bad.” His folding chair squeaks in protest as he leans back on its two rear legs, lacing his broad hands behind his head. He’s sitting next to me today, and I’m tempted to reach over and catch him before he falls. But he rocks forward again, planting the chair on the carpet. His tone is serene. “Maybe we’ll have better rolls this time. What happens next is up to us. Right, DM?”
Liam nods sagely, looking pleased.
“Teacher’s pet,” I scoff under my breath, not unkindly.
Noah cants his head toward me and winks.
Liam spreads his hands before him. “Let’s take it from the top, then, friends, and see where we end up.”
Jaylie swallows nervously, and the bob of her throat very nearly brushes the sharp edge of the blade held at her neck.
“Come now,” she says, sounding calmer than she feels as a guard roughly binds her hands behind her back to prevent her from casting spells, “there’s no need for all of this. I’m sure we can work it out, yes?”
Without turning her head, she casts her gaze at her party. Morgana stands with her arms crossed, armored men flanking her on either side. Kain bares his long fangs dangerously at the five guards who circle him; Jaylie notices that their leader holds her sword at his sternum with the slightest tremble in her grip. Loren helpfully holds his wrists out before him, and the guard tying them together looks decidedly uncomfortable with just how much the bard seems to be delighting in the experience. The guards all wear the blue andwhite of Lord Donati’s household, and though their armor is polished and their swords gleam, they don’t seem especially skilled. Or clever.
No, that was why Donati hired Jaylie and her team. He wanted undercoverspecialists.It’s why he kept the guards back at his estate.
Fat lot of good that did for him.
Donati paces in front of Jaylie with his hands clasped neatly behind his back. If he heard her plea, he doesn’t give any sign of it. Eventually he stops, sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jaylie swallows again, and she swears the sword at her neck draws blood.
“How do I know you’re not working with her?”
His words are so soft Jaylie barely hears him. “I’m sorry, what did you—”
“How do I know you’re notworking with her?!” he thunders. Lightning crackles up Donati’s arms, and his eyes spark with barely withheld violence. He has to clench and unclench his fists for several heartbeats before the electricity sizzles out. Every hair on Jaylie’s body stands upright.
“I don’t know who that woman is,” Jaylie protests. “I’ve never seen her in my life.”
The party grunts and murmurs their agreement, and Morgana mutters, “I would have remembered a woman like that.” She almost sounds admiring.
“Lady Shira Soros?” Donati mocks. “You really expect me to believe you’re unfamiliar with her reputation?”
There’s a pause.
