“That man, not burning in the sunlight? The one currently tending to the poor warlock you’ve been exploiting?” she snapped, jerking her head toward where Garin ministered to Emrys.
“No, no.” Bog chuckled, nervously patting the air. “Hewantedto work for us.”
“Or, he came for a drink and you never stopped serving him,” Garin said, rage behind his quiet suggestion.
Bog shuffled nearer, lowering his voice. “You’ll keep this quiet, won’t you?” Le Tallec stumped closer to hear. “This was a terrible misunderstanding.”
“This entire town will know of our mistreatment,” Lilac said. “Other towns. Maybe even the queen.”
“Please.” He clasped his hands together, looking at Le Tallec for guidance. “Consider my warlock a gift.”
“You’ve done enough. The warlock is just collateral.”
He stepped back, reeling, and glanced helplessly at his crew. The lot from their booth was there at the front, behind Mathias and Enzo, looking ready to brawl in the middle of the street.
This time Lilac leaned toward him, her voice dropping. “I’m sure the queen would love to continue funding your secret trips to the forest once she learns where her family’s funds have really gone. Certainly not to your pub.” She cocked her head to the carriage, the fine working horses. “Where do you think my husband and I get our funding? We are never that sloppy, are we?”
She glanced over to Garin. Warning hesitation flashed across his face.
Ever the actor.
“So readily giving away our secrets?” he chided under his breath.
Bog froze, and she stepped closer. Her eyes caught on the haberdasheryacross the plaza, where she could’ve sworn the curtains opened and then quickly shut at the top floor window.
“Others are watching,” the tavern owner murmured.
“It’s only a matter of time before the royal family finds out on their own, Bog. Imagine what little it would take for them to get a magistrate to come for your ledgers. It didn’t strike me thatskilledDaemon hunters would need to steal from the crown to fund their trips.” She felt Le Tallec’s and Garin’s eyes on her and pointedly ignored them.
“The royal family would never fund them outright, in fear of conflict,” he breathed. “Henri is too weak. His father was even worse. You said you come from a family of map makers.”
“Who do you think it is we work for?” Lilac leaned nearer, pretending to guard their conversation. “My father works with the Trécessons and is paid handsomely to survey the land while scouting and documenting Daemon territory. There are certain maps he’s made which are confidential, butI’veseen them. I might’ve even tipped off Armand and Sinclar.”
Bog said nothing as Adelaide stared annoyedly past them at the slowly growing crowd. Garin supporting Emrys, who was half slumped against the carriage door.
“Is she helping you?” Bog whispered.
“Everyone can use a worthy witch, from seasoned adventurer, to the seedy bar owner about to get his shop closed due to improper handling of royal funds.”
He swallowed, watching Lilac cross her arms expectantly. “What do you want?”
Lilac fought the sudden urge to laugh at the thought of them being picked to pieces by hungry ogres. She placed a heavy hand on Bog’s shoulder, spooking him. But he didn’t move away. “Head to the location I’d circled if your map is still legible.”
“Don’t listen to her, Bog.” Sinclair’s grandfather’s voice boomed from his position mere feet away. He stood tall, or as tall as the slight hunch in his back would allow. He looked to Mathias and Lorenzo, then turned his hardened glare at a fidgeting Bog. “You’re going to let a band of strangers working with the village witch give you orders?”
“These orders were from the Le Tallecs themselves,” Lilac pushed, heart racing.
She managed to peek a glance at the carriage; Garin was watching Lilac intently.
Le Tallec laughed. “No, they weren’t.” He gestured at Adelaide and Lilac exchanging glances, and Garin looking like he’d topple any minute. Emrys still leaned against him, but his hands were on his knees. “My son would never command our hunting troupe with the likes of you. With those who work with Daemons themselves.”
“He wouldn’t,” Lilac said coolly, but inside she was panicking. She felt the enormous weight of all the eyes on her, the glares, despite people not knowing who she was. What if someone saw through her illusion? What if someone thought she looked familiar? She had to trust they wouldn’t. “But Vivien would.”
It was a shot in the dark. Those were all she knew how to take, but it looked like this one landed.
Le Tallec’s eyes narrowed. “Vivien.”
The clatter of distant horses’ hooves and carriage wheels had the heads of the crowd turning in a wave. Then, a horn sounded. Bodies shifted to get a better view at whatever newcomer was gracing the town, and Bog and Le Tallec’s crowd took one look and began to quickly retreat back into The Jaunty Hog. Thankful for the distraction, she strode over and took the other arm of Emrys. Up close, Garin looked ill—or was pretending too well to be ill. He too was glancing in the direction of the new carriage, and soon, the crowd began to part. Lilac swung the door open and tried to heave on Emrys’s arm, push him and Garin up the step, but the vampire had frozen.
