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‘Oh?’ Wilder quirked a brow in her direction. ‘He caught your eye, did he?’

‘Jealous?’

‘A lesser man might be.’

‘But you’re not a lesser man.’

‘Not last time I checked, Princess.’

They rounded a corner, and the distinct scent of fermenting liquor hit Wilder’s nostrils.

‘We’re nearly there,’ he told Thea.

‘Already?’

‘We weren’t going far. Just cross your fingers we can slip in unnoticed.’

‘I don’t know if you realise this about yourself, but you’re not exactly the average citizen of Aveum. Isn’t the entire military might of the midrealms out hunting for you as we speak?’

‘Which is why you’re going in first.’ Wilder shoved the torch into the nearby sconce and felt his way along the wall until he found the divot.

‘Where are we?’ Thea asked.

Wilder pushed the hidden door inward with his shoulder, the hinges rusted with disuse. Snatching up the torch again, he stepped inside, motioning for Thea to follow.

Her brow furrowed at the sight of various casks and shelves of dark bottles covered in dust. ‘You’ve brought me to a cellar,’ she said blankly.

Wilder couldn’t help but grin. ‘Not just any cellar.’

‘No?’ Thea scoffed. ‘I’d hate for the rebel forces to meet in a less-than-average crawl space…’

Wilder laughed. ‘It’s far more than that. This is the cellar to one of the best taverns in the midrealms.’

He located the staircase leading up to a trapdoor, waiting for Thea at the top. And when she joined him, he lifted the door, light flooding the cellar.

‘Welcome to the Singing Hare, Thea.’

Her eyes widened, and in an instant, she yanked the trapdoor back down, muting the noise of fiddles and chatter from above.

‘Are you fucking mad?’ she exclaimed. ‘You want to just walk into a fucking pub, when —’

‘No,’ he said calmly. ‘You’regoing to walk into the fucking pub. I’m going to follow. At a distance, until we know it’s safe. Then I’m going to buy you a drink.’

Thea glared at him. ‘You’re a Warsword of Thezmarr and that’s the best plan you can come up with?’

‘Got anything better, Apprentice?’

She made a noise of irritation. ‘At least wait until it’s less busy.’

‘Thisisless busy.’

‘Furies save me,’ she muttered, readying herself. ‘Fine. Here goes nothing.’

Without another word of warning, the hatch was opened again and Thea emerged from the cellar, moving gracefully and confidently, as though she had been to the Singing Hare a hundred times before. Wilder waited a few moments before he followed, drawing his hood up over his face and adjusting the fall of his cloak to hide the swords at his belt.

The Singing Hare was exactly as it had been the last time he’d visited – warm and raucous and welcoming. Somewhere in the next room, a pair of fiddles crafted a merry melody, while the crowd clapped and no doubt danced along.

He emerged from the back room, spotting Thea lingering by the bar. The place was rammed with patrons, so busy in fact that Wilder couldn’t move an inch without brushing up againstsomeone. He could feel Thea’s gaze as he crossed the space, trained on him until he came to stand at her side.