Nicolina lifts her arms, and the crowd claps and cheers as she bows.
Imagination is not something that my family ever tried to cultivate in me, unless it was imaginative ways to kill someone and make it look accidental. I’m amazed at the creativity of these women and the bold way they tell scandalous stories so casually.
I’m hardly inexperienced, but it’s one thing to read something in the quiet of your room and quite another to perform it.
The guard at the table beside me nudges my arm. I almost jump out of my skin for fear I’ve been found out, but he just passes me a basket.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
“Tips for the teller,” he says, nodding to Nicolina.
I’m at the end of the row of tables, so I toss a few coins into the basket. When Nicolina steps off the small, raised stage, I stand and hand it to her.
“Sweet girl, you look pale,” Nicolina says, touching my cheek in a gentle maternal way. “It’s just a story. Like the ones a man tells when he wants to get you into his bed. They’re just to excite and entice. They make the monsters seem less monstrous. They remind us we have survived and endured enough to find pleasure. You are a sweet thing to be here alone for this.”
I purse my lips. “I’m not as sweet as I look.”
She tips her head back and cackles. “Well, if that’s the case, that gentleman at the table beside you is known to be not very sweet either. I’ve heard rave reviews from the ladies. He’s always here for this particular hour. I think you’ve caught his eye.”
Sure enough, when I glance back at the table, he’s smiling at me in the cocky, knowing way of men who have no clue who they’re dealing with.
“Thanks for the tip, Nicolina,” I whisper as I walk back to my seat.
“I don’t think we’ve met before,” the man says as I slink back into my seat.
I watch him over the rim of my glass as I take a sip of wine. “I’m sure you’d remember if we had.”
He cocks his head. “I’m sure I would.”
I hold out my hand. “Eve.”
“Brennan.” He takes it and presses a kiss to my knuckles. It’s a bit over the top, but he’s clearly counting on me being a woman who loves a romance story, so I guess it makes sense.
“And what do you do, Brennan?” I try to sound playful instead of bored.
I know he’s a guard. I vaguely remember Gaven mentioning his name, but he’s reported so many things to me in the past few days, it’s all a bit jumbled in my brain. The fact that I know the name and face means that he must be somewhat important.
These next few moments are critical. I need to make a quick andaccurate study of him. Fortunately, I’m attuned to the mercurial nature of men.
The fastest way to learn a lesson is to incorrectly assess a threat. I’ve made it a point to only pick fights I can win. My father has taught me many things, but none so vital as how to size up an opponent.
Brennan is drunk. His aura is dark purple. He’s blessed by Elvodeen. Most of the hunters seem to be blessed by the Divine of Strength, and that alone tells me a bit about how to get to him.
“I’m a hunter. I guard the walls.” He looks so proud of himself.
“Oh,” I say, forcing a smile. “There’s so many of you out there all the time.”
He frowns. “I’m actually a group leader.”
I feign embarrassment. “Oh? So you are in charge of a few men? I’m afraid I just don’t understand the hierarchy.”
It’s just dismissive enough for him to want to prove himself.
Brennan takes an exaggerated look over his shoulder, like he’s worried he’s going to get caught sharing something important, then leans in close. “I lead a group of twenty men, and we handle very dangerous assignments.”
“Like venturing into the woods?” I suggest.
He scoffs. “Like guarding a Drained we caught.”
