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“I’m looking for my family,” she answered his mangled question. “Zuleeka and Torell Meridan.”

“Ha!” Grum said, slamming his mug loudly, a wave of foam slopping over the top. “I knews it.”

He said no more, so Kiva prompted, “You knews — erm,knew— what?”

Grumedon pointed a gnarled finger at her. “You ’ave yer mama’s eyes.”

Before Kiva could get over the shock of his statement, his body slumped and his head fell onto the bar, with loud, drunken snoring erupting from his wide open mouth.

The innkeeper sighed and took the mug away, wiping up the spilled liquid. “Every day, the same. He’ll be out for hours.” At whatever he saw on Kiva’s face, he added, “Grum’s lived a hard life, but he does all right. He’s got people who care for him — they’ll come and get him soon, make sure he’s safe and warm. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

Unable to help herself, Kiva rasped, “Was my mother one of those people?”

The innkeeper said nothing, his standard response. But he surprised her when he pulled a piece of grubby parchment and a quill out from beneath the bar.

“Write a note. I’ll see what I can do,” he offered, albeit still gruffly.

Hope filled her, but Kiva was quick to say, “I need to see them today. As soon as possible. It’s important.”

The innkeeper made no promises, only repeated, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Realizing it was the best deal she would get, Kiva hurried to write her message.

I’m at the Tippled Boar. Need to speak with you. Urgent.

There was nothing secretive about what she wrote, but she still used the code only her siblings would understand, falling back into old habits.

“What’s this?” the innkeeper asked, holding the note up to the light and frowning.

“Zuleeka and Torell Meridan,” Kiva reminded him. “They’ll be able to read it.”

He made a grunting sound and placed it in his back pocket, but he made no move to do anything with it.

“When I said it’s important, I meant life and death,” Kiva told him.Herlife or death, if she didn’t get her magic under control. “Please, I only have a few hours.”

His eyes came back to hers. “You orderin’ a drink?”

Kiva gritted her teeth and shook her head.

He jerked his thumb to a doorway at the back of the tavern. “Then you can wait outside.”

“Please,” Kiva said again, this time in a whisper.

The man only pointed again, then turned and disappeared into the room behind the bar. A young woman took his place, pulling a face as she picked up his soiled cloth and swapped it for a fresh one.

With nothing left but to trust that the innkeeper would pass along her message, Kiva sighed and headed in the direction he’d pointed, stepping through the doorway to find a small open courtyard.

There were no other patrons outside, so she removed her cloak and sat at one of the wooden tables. Seconds later, the barmaid appeared and placed a steaming mug in front of Kiva, smiling and winking before she vanished back inside, calling over her shoulder, “Say hi to Tor for me.”

Having no desire to read into the suggestive words, Kiva took a sip of the drink — spiced milk and honey — and tipped her face to the sunshine, willing her tight limbs to relax as she resigned herself to wait.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kiva was pacing the courtyard after finishing her drink, time having slowed to a crawl. There was no sign of her siblings yet, but she couldn’t sit around waiting all day. If the innkeeper wasn’t going to come through for her, she would just have to find someone else to ask.

Decision made, Kiva threw her cloak back on, but just as she started toward the tavern doorway, heavy footsteps met her ears, and a tall figure hurried out from the darkness.

Kiva’s shoulders slumped with relief at the sight of her brother, who wasted no time in closing the distance between them.