“They started it!” he wheezed to the barkeep.
“I don’t care who started it. I’ll finish it if the lot of you don’t get outta here now!”
The bloodhound emerged from the bar and snarled at the group, his maw drawn back to reveal a set of huge, sharp canine teeth. His drool splashed on his oversized paws, lined with extended claws. The brawlers paled at the beast and scarpered, falling through the porch entrance and abandoning their money.
A barmaid scurried from a door near the stairs, and swept up the mess as the barkeep pocketed the bits and coins. He ruffled the bloodhound’s ears, patting him on the back, before returning to polishing the glass steins behind the counter. The formidable hound happily trotted to his owner’s side, lapping water from a small bowl.
“You keep interesting company,” Kora mused as she settled, legs dangling around the foot of the stool.
“Ah, Conan’s a softie at heart.” He smiled at the bloodhound, who snorted in return. “He’s good at keeping the vermin out.” The barkeep was gangly, with pale skin and slicked-back hair matching Conan’s colouring. When he smiled, his own teeth were as sharp as the hound’s.
“I’ve never seen one that colour before.”
“Aye, poor Conan was cast out of his litter for it. The breeder thought he’d turn out to be a runt.” The male chuckled. “Look at you now, boy.”
Bloodhounds were unique dogs, used within armies for seeking out enemies. The empire had bred them so that they were now the size of mountain wolves—with sharper fangs, and retractable claws. The red eyes were the telling sign of noble houses breeding them, resulting in a premier breed with heightened vision and senses, so they could hunt in the dark. Those exact red eyes were drawn to Kora now, capturing her gaze unblinkingly. Conan sniffed, letting out a small, low whine.
“What’s the matter, boy?” The barkeep leaned towards Conan, stroking his long back. “Are you hungry?”
As he pottered about, fetching Conan food, a foreboding sense overwhelmed her to leave as those red eyes bored into her. His large snout rapidly snuffled, absorbing her scent, and he whined again.
“I best be off,” she murmured, placing a silver bit on the counter.
Conan raised up on his haunches, placing his large, front paws on top of the counter as he eagerly leaned towards Kora, drool splashing into her stein. His head was a foot away from brushing the low-beamed ceiling.Almighty gods, he was massive.
“Conan! Get off there, you mutt.” The barkeep gently swatted his paws with a cloth. “We don’t need you drooling into people’s drinks.”
She stumbled back in surprise as Conan eventually dropped to the floor, his paws thudding on the tiles, followed by his chops smacking as he devoured his food.
“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “I’m looking after Conan for someone else. Still getting used to him.” His dark blue eyes flashed, and he scanned the crowd, his gaze lost in the endless males.
“Say, don’t suppose you know if a ship named—”
“Captain!” a deep voice boomed from the crowd, and the barkeep startled as Samuel shouldered his way through the throng of males. “Fancy seeing you here.”
The barkeep snapped his sharp gaze to her as she pulled down her hood to greet Samuel, and an impish Aryn lingering behind him. The barkeep’s eyes flared at her hair and scar, his mouth gaping, and he dropped his rag.
Several sailors’ eyes ogled at the mention of her title, and she quickly ushered Samuel and Aryn into an empty booth nearthe entrance of the tavern. She glanced back to the bar. The barkeep had vanished, leaving the barmaid in his stead to polish glass steins.
Samuel waved at the barmaid to bring a round of drinks to the table, and she hurried across the room, expertly holding three full, heavy steins in her tiny hands. Her simple grey dress clung to her body, accentuating her curves, with a burgundy, tied corset cinching her waist. It was low-cut, revealing a full bosom which bounced as she walked.
As she placed the steins on the table, Samuel shot her a dazzling smile that made her round cheeks blush. Her brown hair was braided, and curled on top of her head. Kora placed a couple silver bits before the barmaid on the table, her fingers hovering on the coins.
“Where’d the barkeep go?”
“Oh, John?” The barmaid glimpsed round the thriving room and shrugged. The motion made Samuel suck in a breath. “Said he’s gone to collect a brewery shipment from the harbour.”
“When will he be back?”
The barmaid’s tawny gaze narrowed at Kora, and then dipped to the shining silver coins under her fingers.
“I don’t know,” she replied coolly. “A capital ship arrived late today and delayed all the shipments to town. Funny how that happens.”
Her scrutinising stare slid over Aryn and Samuel, bruised and dishevelled, the former blandly observing the conversation, and the latter still attempting to dazzle the barmaid with his smile.
“How inconvenient, I was hoping to speak to him.” Kora sipped from her replenished ale stein.
“I’m not sure when he’ll be back. He always disappears. Now I’m managing this place on my own. Surrounded by incompetence.”
