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Wren slowly pulled away and stowed her weapon. The impertinent pirate swayed forward to lean on her shoulder, head sticking between Wren and Leif in order to address the both of them along with Bram. The blatant disregard for her personal space should have incensed her, but for some reason it actually made her like the pirate-merchant more.

He had no fear.

He’d fit right in on the Dragon Isles…if he weren’t clearly a dirty thief.

“I heard from my favorite false bard that you’re in need of a reliable source of supplies,” Gunn said.

Leif clucked his tongue and sniffed dramatically. “A bard who is also a spy is still a bard.”

“Yet a merchant who has a penchant for sometimes playing the part of pirate is always a pirate,” Gunn pointed out. “That’s a double standard if ever there was one.”

“Yes, we need supplies,” Bram cut in, before Leif and Gunn could further derail the conversation. “Food, primarily. Can you help us?”

“That depends. What can you do for me?”

“We can continue freeing slaves and fighting to take down the Verlanti royal family, which you seem to want to see happen.”

“True,” Gunn purred, stroking his chin. He glanced at Wren. “But if things were that easy, you wouldn’t have brought along your pretty little princess to sweeten the deal. So what do you think I want,personally,from this deal?”

“Not that,” she drawled, pulling away from his touch on her shoulder. She was disgusted for thinking she might actually like the pirate. He was a degenerate and a rake.

But then Gunn laughed at the look on her face, and Wren moved quickly from revulsion to confusion. “Oh, love, it’s not what you think!” he protested, still laughing. “I have plenty of women who very muchwantto be in my bed. No, what I want is to trade—legally—with the Dragon Isles.”

Wren scowled. “Do you enjoy making others feel uncomfortable?”

“When it helps me work out what folkwillandwill notdo, yes. It seems we are similar in that manner.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, leaning an elbow on the table.

Gunn mirrored her position. “You kept a blade on me and refused to let up until you understood my mettle.”

“Your mettle sure, but your character not so much,” she quipped.

“Such is life in espionage, my love.”

“True. So what do you want?”

He smiled. “Straight to the point. I love it. Would you be willing to trade with me, Princess Wren, if you get out of this mess and return to your kingdom as its queen?”

“If you help us, then it would certainly be in the cards,” she said, keeping her face as blank as possible. Any sign from her that someone else was, in fact, the heir to the throne, would not serve Wren any favors. “Once weget out of this mess,as you put it. It’s a long road and I’m not sure you have the patience for it.”

“Oh, I am the master of patience.”

“Is that so?” she murmured.

“It is.” He winked. “I’ve been waiting a lifetime for you to take me as your lover.”

Wren smiled in spite of herself. “So we have a deal?”

“We do.” Gunn was still smiling, but his grin had a new edge to it—if not malicious, then devilish. “You must prove yourself to me. I need to see your mettle, my love.” Then, in one fluid movement, he knocked Wren’s hood off and swept to his feet to address the entire tavern, who caught sight of Wren’s red hair immediately.

He waved at the money-hungry crowd. “So get out of this mess. Escape the city, then we’ll talk.”

7

WREN

She was going to kill Gunn. She was going to gut him nice and slow, then feed his entrails to the carnivorous fish beneath the Verlantian palace.