“Now we wait.”

  For several minutes, the two of them sat quietly—Daniel near the fire watching their surroundings and Balen beside the hole to monitor the fishing lines. Finally, Daniel asked, “Do you think Jace will be able to get that remedy?”

  Balen glanced at him. “Kyrin is sick. He won’t leave Valcré without it.”

  Daniel nodded. Jace wouldn’t leave willingly, at least. He just prayed nothing would happen to Jace and Holden in the city. He also prayed his old friend Alex would be accommodating. If only he could have gone himself. He’d wanted to offer, but he knew better. They wouldn’t let him risk it. Too many people in Valcré might recognize him. He hated being one of the main pieces upon which their victory rested. It left him feeling rather useless most of the time.

  “Do you ever get sick of being treated like you’re something fragile and valuable that has to be protected at all cost?”

  Balen cast him a wry smile. “I do, yes.”

  “How did you ever choose to be king? I would have refused. I was born a prince, and I still considered running away many times.” Daniel couldn’t imagine having a normal life and then choosing to accept the heavy mantle of king.

  “I did refuse… at first.”

  For some reason this surprised Daniel. Balen was one of the most humble people he had ever met and always seemed to make the right choice when it was presented to him. But, he was only human. Daniel would do well to remember that when comparing himself to the fellow king.

  “When King Alton first asked me to be his heir,” Balen continued, “I told him no and immediately returned home. I hated disappointing him, but I knew I could not be king when I was nothing more than a farm boy.”

  A wistful smile overcame his focused expression. “When I told my uncle, he asked if I had prayed before I made the decision. I hadn’t, of course. I felt so unqualified it never even occurred to me that it might be Elôm’s will. My uncle then impressed upon me how important it was to seek Elôm in every decision. So I did pray about it, even though I had no intention of changing my mind. A week later, I couldn’t ignore the prompting I felt to return to Amberin.”

  Daniel shook his head, mostly to himself. Would he have listened to Elôm’s prompting? He wanted to believe he would have. He had, after all, defied his own father and put his life on the line to follow Elôm in the first place.

  Before Daniel could respond, Balen’s full attention shifted to the fishing lines. A moment later, he yanked one of the them, and then promptly pulled in a thrashing trout. His face lit up with a grin. This would be the first game anyone had brought back in days. A single fish might not feed the camp, but it was a start. At least it proved they could catch them.

  Balen baited the hook again and lowered the line back into the water before pulling out a knife and skillfully gutting the trout. “When we leave, we’ll set snares and use the guts as bait. I’ll give the heads to Tyra when we get back.”

  Jace would appreciate that. He had to worry about his wolf with their meat supply dwindling.

  Over the next hour, Balen caught another half dozen fish to add to their supply. Their fried fat didn’t seem to attract anything until a little flash of movement caught Daniel’s eye. He focused on a dark spot near a brush pile. It didn’t appear to be more than a shadow until it finally moved again.

  “Looks like your bait is working.” He motioned to the lynx crouched in the snow several yards away.

  Balen slowly reached for his bow and knocked an arrow. The lynx didn’t make a very large target, but he took the shot anyway. The lynx leapt into the air and bolted, but didn’t make it five feet before collapsing. Balen hurried to make sure it was dead, and Daniel followed. Examining the lynx, he found that Balen had made a perfect shot right in the chest. A quick kill.

  “Is there anything you can’t do?” He cast Balen a teasing grin, though he actually did want to know the answer.

  Balen just laughed. However, his expression sobered a moment later. “Keep my people out of captivity.”

  All humor left Daniel. “You and me both.”

  Balen looked at him. Despite his somber look, hope remained in his eyes. “We will get them back. I trust that Elôm hasn’t brought us this far just to fail.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jace and Holden followed Aaron through the city. The farther south they went, the seedier it became. Trash and garbage heaps littered the streets. If it were the middle of summer, Jace could just imagine the stench that would have burned their noses. Dark figures in tattered clothing slunk away down the alleys as they approached. Others ignored them, digging through the piles of refuse. Those who did notice cast them vacant looks. Jace had seen such broken, lifeless expressions growing up in slave yards. His nerves prickled, and he kept his cloak around his money satchel. They carried enough valuables to make even an honest person consider robbing them if desperate enough.

  Even so, Aaron strode confidently past the figures. The man had more guts than someone twice his size. Like Jace, he had seen his fair share of hardship growing up as a miner in the Graylin Valley. The people there were often little better than slaves themselves.

  “Avery’s supposed to have his loot stashed in some of the abandoned buildings around here, but he does his business in the taverns,” Aaron told them. Despite his confidence, he did scan each street with an alert and watchful eye. “In this part of the city at least, there is no love lost between the people and the queen or her men. Soldiers won’t even go into the taverns. Any who do don’t come out alive, or so I’ve heard.”

  Jace raised his brows. These men had to be pretty bold to kill off soldiers. “Do you think Avery’s men will speak to us?”

  “We want to do business. That should be enough to get us a meeting.”

  A stiff breeze gusted toward them as they turned into an alley, and Jace shivered. Just ahead, several shady characters milled outside one of the doors along the alley walls. They looked like hired muscle, each one bearing a variety of swords and knives. The hair along Jace’s arms rose under his sleeves at their shifty glances.

  However, when they spotted Aaron, they seemed to stand down. Jace glanced at the sign hanging over the narrow street. Briar Pub. Aaron pushed the door open, and they stepped inside, unhindered by the men. The pungent scent of alcohol, sweat, and smoke hung thick and heavy in the air, and the hum of voices filled the dim room. It was not unlike the few Jace had seen as a slave. Occasionally, Jasper had drummed up interest in him, the half-blood, by taking him into taverns while he ate. News always traveled fast that way.

  Aaron paused to scan the round tables, most of which had two or more men sitting around them. “I don’t see him. We’ll wait a bit. He usually shows up around now.”

  He walked to the bar, Jace and Holden trailing him. Jace kept watch on the other patrons out of the corner of his eye. At least, according to Aaron, they weren’t loyal to Davira.

  Aaron nodded to the barkeeper, a burly, dark-haired man. “Three for my friends and me.” He laid a silver coin down, and the man filled three mugs with ale, the froth overflowing the rims. Aaron grabbed them and handed one each to Jace and Holden.

  Jace eyed the foamy amber liquid. He’d never cared for ale.

  “You sit around a tavern without a drink and people will think you’re looking for trouble,” Aaron told them quietly as he led them to an empty table. “It’s better to blend in.”

  Jace took a seat and a sip of the biting liquid. He much preferred Rayad’s coffee, strong as that was.

  “So, how do you know this Tavor will be here?” Holden asked, settling back in his chair. He looked as comfortable here as Aaron did. No doubt he’d spent his fair share of time in places like this as the emperor’s informant.

  “I don’t, for sure,” Aaron answered, “but there are two or three taverns he visits frequently. This seems to be his favorite.”

  Jace couldn’t see why. It was dirty, crowded, and the stench weighed on his lungs. He never understood the draw of such places.

  While they waited, they talked of Landale and of Timothy and Aaron’s time in the city.

  “It’s a lot different from camp life,” Aaron told them, “but not so different from living in Dunlow. I do miss camp, but Timothy is doing a lot of good here. Everyone has really taken to his teaching. Now if we can only get past this sickness.”

  He raised his mug to take a sip of ale but paused, his gaze shifting past Jace and Holden. Jace glanced over his shoulder. A barmaid approached their table. She was a slight girl with dark hair and eyes and a youthful look about her. She wore a low, silky red dress that barely covered her shoulders. Jace cleared his throat and steeled himself for any advances, but her attention focused on Aaron. She smiled at him when she reached the table, though it wasn’t the seductive smile Jace would have expected from a woman of her occupation. Actually, it was quite lovely and sweet, a little like Kyrin’s.

  “Good afternoon,” she told Aaron.

  He smiled comfortably as well. “Afternoon.”

  The woman glanced at Jace and Holden. “Can I get you gentlemen anything?”

  “I think we’re good.” Aaron leaned toward her. “Actually, we’re hoping to meet with Tavor. Have you seen him?”

  She stepped closer to his side and lowered her voice. “Not today, but he was in yesterday.”

  “Thank you.”

  With one more smile, she stepped back. “Just let me know if any of you need anything.”

  Some might have taken that as a less than pure invitation, but Jace couldn’t sense anything like that behind her friendly personality. He watched her walk back to the bar before shifting his gaze back to Aaron. “A friend of yours?”

  Aaron gave a brief nod, his attention lingering noticeably on the woman. “Lacy. A few weeks back, a couple of guys started getting too possessive of her. I persuaded them to leave her alone.”

  Jace traded a glance with Holden. Something told him that persuasion involved more than a friendly chat.

  “I’m trying to get her to come to the meetings. I think she wants to, but she’s afraid her boss will throw her out.” Aaron’s forehead wrinkled. “Her father died a few years ago and her family is deeply in debt. This is the only way she can help support her family.”

  Jace looked over at Lacy again as she moved around the bar. The sunny smile she’d given Aaron was gone, and he saw the desperation, pain, and hopelessness in her eyes that he knew too well. She might not be a slave, but she was trapped in her life the same as he’d once been, forced to do things that slowly destroyed a person inside. Compassion settled inside of him, and he turned back to Aaron.

  “I hope she’ll come sometime.” She needed Elôm, desperately.

  Aaron nodded slowly. “Me too.”

  They were silent for a moment. Aaron finally took the drink of his ale, and Jace watched him. Perhaps it was being around Kyrin so much, but Jace was getting better at reading the little clues to people’s emotions.

  Aaron caught him staring. He then looked at Holden and frowned. “What?”

  Jace glanced over at his friend who wore a slight smile.

  “She’s pretty,” Holden said.

  Aaron huffed. “Since when did you two become matchmakers? I thought that was old Mrs. Hess’s job.”

  The old woman back at camp, who had once set her sights on Rayad, was notorious for trying to set people up. Holden chuckled and shared a smile with Jace, but Aaron didn’t say anything more in protest. He just shook his head and stared at his ale. When he looked up again, his chagrined expression turned serious.

  “Looks like we’ve got company.”

  Jace stiffened and whipped his head around to look toward the door. A group of men strode straight for their table. The brawny man at the head stared Aaron down. Jace let his hand slide toward his sword, though he did not draw it. He didn’t want to invite trouble.

  Without even a word of greeting, the man pulled out a chair and sat down just to Jace’s right, directly across from Aaron. The men spread out behind him. Jace took stock of them and their weapons. Each looked ready for a fight. Heat curled through his blood. He let it simmer, ready in case he needed it.

  “I hear you’ve been asking a lot of questions.”

  The man’s rough voice drew Jace’s attention back to the table.

  Aaron eyed the man coolly. “You’re Tavor?”

  “Maybe.”

  Jace took stock of him now. His sturdy clothing pointed to more of a woodsman than a man of the city. The end of his longsword scabbard rested on the floor, and the hilt of a large dagger protruded on the other side of his belt. His worn and calloused hands said he wasn’t afraid of rough work.

  “We’re looking for Lord Avery.” Aaron gestured to Jace and Holden.

  Tavor sent them each a piercing glance. The man was no ryrik, but he certainly had the ferocity of one.

  “What for?”

  “Business.” Aaron sat up straighter, not appearing intimidated by the man before them. “He has supplies, we have money.”

  Tavor narrowed his eyes and stared at him for a long moment. “What do you need?”

  “The remedy. We have friends sick and many more in danger of getting it.”

  The man contemplated the request and then pushed to his feet. Jace was afraid he would just leave, but he said, “The Red Crane tomorrow at noon. Just the three of you. If you show up with anyone else, we’ll drag you off to the queen.” He leaned over the table, leering at Aaron. “We know who you are and what you’re worth.”

  He then turned and strode out of the tavern with the other men. Once the door closed behind them, Jace, Holden, and Aaron looked at each other.

  “Well, I guess we have our meeting with Avery,” Aaron said.

  It wasn’t the quick meeting Jace had hoped for, but he would take it. Tavor could have refused them… or worse. The thought of the man knowing they were followers of Elôm made the back of Jace’s neck prickle.

  Aaron pushed back his chair. “We might as well head back to Ben’s and let them know. We’ll need more money before tomorrow.”

  Leaving their half-empty mugs behind, they headed for the door. Aaron sent Lacy a smile on the way out. Matchmaker or not, Jace wouldn’t be surprised if something grew between the two of them—that is, if Lacy could find a way out of this life and come to know Elôm. If not, Aaron was likely in for heartache.

  Back out in the cold, they trudged through the streets, away from the more lawless area of the city. Jace was glad to arrive back at Ben’s large house, out of the cold and the unsavoriness of the tavern and its patrons. Mira had hot coffee waiting for them, and they gathered in the living room.

  “At least you got a meeting,” Ben said. “I’ll have to see about gathering funds for you. I’m sure everyone will give what they can.”

  Mira took a sip of her coffee and focused on Aaron, “Did you see Lacy?”

  So she knew of the pretty barmaid. It seemed Aaron’s interest, whether romantic or not, was no secret.

  “Yes.”

  “How is she?”

  “Still working at the Briar,” Aaron responded rather glumly. He shot Jace and Holden a look as if warning them to keep their thoughts and speculations to themselves. “We didn’t have a chance to talk.”

  “That poor girl,” Mira fussed. “I do pray Elôm gives her the courage to at least visit us. You did tell her she’s welcome here, didn’t you?”

  Aaron nodded. “I did. I don’t believe she thinks she’s fit for your company. But I’ll invite her again when I get a chance.”

  “You do that. We’re more than willing to do what we can to get her out of that place.”

  Jace had to smile. He’d heard Daniel speak of Ben and Mira’s kindness and compassion, but seeing it himself made him think of Kalli and Aldor. They were very much alike—inviting into their home people who most would shun.

  After downing the last of his coffee, Ben rose from his chair. He looked at Aaron and Timothy. “We should start gathering that money. If this is our one chance to meet with Avery, we’d better make sure we make it worth his while.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lydia sat next to the bed and stared at Kyrin. The thought of losing another child left a chill deep in her bones and a gnawing panic inside her chest. She begged Elôm to heal Kyrin and to keep the boys from getting the fever too. They’d all had such precious little time together as it was.

  “Here, Mother, drink this.”

  She startled and looked up. Kaden held a mug out to her with some of the broth they’d made. She had forgone supper the night before, her stomach too knotted with worry. It didn’t feel any better now, but the way Kaden’s expression drew together in concern prompted her to action. She mustered a smile and took the mug. “Thank you.”

  He remained standing there a moment as she took a sip, and then he walked back to the table where he and Marcus quietly prepared breakfast. Lydia glanced across Kyrin’s bed. Liam sat asleep in his chair on the other side. He’d worked so hard these days, caring for so many people. It was good that he could rest for a time. She’d never imagined him as a physician’s assistant, but he certainly had the compassion for it. If only she had realized and encouraged his strengths sooner.

  She took another sip of the warm broth and blinked sleepily. Liam had already admonished her in his own quiet way concerning her lack of rest. But how could she sleep when her child was so sick?

  Several minutes later, Kyrin mumbled. Though her eyes remained closed, her lips moved with quiet, unintelligible words. Her hands shifted fitfully under the blankets, and her breathing quickened. Lydia set her mug aside and stood, laying her hand on Kyrin’s cheek. Heat radiated into her palm. She felt her daughter’s other cheek and then her forehead. Even the cold compress didn’t dispel the warmth. Please no.

  “Mother?”

  The worry in Kaden’s voice forced her to face facts. She looked back at him and Marcus. “Her fever is getting worse. I need fresh snow.”