Page 16 of A Court of Masks and Roses (Royal Scout #1)

KALI

“ K al?” Luca shakes his head, shifting his bangs for a moment before they fall right back over his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Mustache stops clearing the target and looks over his shoulder at me. His face shows no sign of recognition, but that means little. If I’m right, our last meeting was in the dark and far from here. “Invitation only. Sorry, lad,” says Mustache.

Digging into my pocket, I toss two silver coins on the table and wink at the rose who just lightened Luca’s purse. “Good thing I’m invited.”

“Then let us dance, little bird.” The rose grins, and though his words slur, his hand is steady as he places his coin beside my own. “Three throws.”

Mustache shifts his weight, putting himself between us. “Come back when you start shaving, lad. And you, Cameron, let the new boy be. We are all here for a good evening.”

Up close, Mustache’s familiar voice is quickly erasing any doubt of his identity. This man is my old mark. Yet... his words, his behavior, they little match the terror monger who wanted to burn a stable-full of horses and hostlers alive just weeks ago.

“Aye, and I’m having a good evening, Samuels.” Cameron lifts his beer mug in salute to me. “Well, lad?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Kal,” a voice I know says quietly behind me. I turn my head to find Trace at my back, his muscled arms crossed over his chest. Luca, now flanking Trace’s left side, nods along with his partner.“How do you imagine this will end?” Trace asks.

“Your concern over my purse is noted,” I tell Trace, throwing him a stony glare before grinning at Cameron. “At your leisure, my lord.”

Cameron makes an elaborate bow and takes the knives. The patrons gathered around us murmur, small bets being offered and accepted between them. Across Dansil, pubs are all the same. Sticking my hands in my pockets, I watch Cameron embed his first knife in the third ring from the middle.

“Five points,” calls Mustache— Samuels .

Cameron takes a breath and hefts his second knife in his palm. A quick aim and step. He is either not as drunk as he seems or good enough that the drink little impacts his aim.

“Seven points,” says Samuels. Luca groans.

The thwack of Cameron’s last knife earns full applause. “Dead center. Ten points. Twenty-two is the number to beat.” Samuels clears the target and nods to me encouragingly. “All right, boy, first time is always the hardest. Choose your blades.”

“I’ll use Cameron’s.” I step forward to the chalked line and, accepting the offered blades, rest the first one in my palm. As decently balanced as one can hope at a pub. I’m not about to show my real knives over a few silver .

“Were you planning on gracing us with a throw this evening?” Cameron croons.

Glancing at the target once, I sink the knife into the center of the silly painted circle on the wall. Whoops and murmurs spring to life around the game. Cameron’s sudden anger ignites so hot, I’m half-surprised it doesn’t boil his beer.

Pausing only long enough to palm my next blade, I sink it beside my first knife. The two handles stick out beside each other like butterfly wings. I reach for the third.

And pause.

Something is wrong. I feel it in the sudden silence, the watching eyes, the shifting of feet for better purchase. My jaw tightens as the word cheater whispers off someone’s lips.

It wasn’t the fate of my purse that had Trace and the rest worried; it was the no-win reality of a stranger challenging Cameron. If I lose, I’m out money. If I win, I cheated.

Beside the door, the strong-arm locks the weapons case. The barman puts his good liquor into the safety of lower cabinets.

Trace and Luca take a casual step toward me.

“Twenty points,” Samuels says quietly. “Last throw.”

Right. Taking a deep breath, I let my heartbeat return to a quiet steadiness. I need no help from Trace or anyone else. Resisting the urge to watch his face as I throw, I let my knife slip smoothly from my hand and don’t bother to look at the target.

“Two,” Samuels says quietly, then clears his throat and repeats with more force. “Twenty-two. Tied match.”

The exhales of many breaths at once is palpable.

“Looks like everyone is back where they started,” I tell Cameron, sliding Luca’s coins into my pocket to return later. Cameron grunts, but I’m done with games for the evening .

“Not bad, cub.” Luca goes to clap my back and then thinks better of it. “Will you join us? You’ve earned yourself a drink.”

Trace’s jaw tightens. He might tolerate—even teach—Kal at morning training, but plainly, spending his liberty hours with me is low on his list. Not that I blame him. Spending liberty time with Trace is low on my list as well.

“No, but thank you.” Separating from Luca, I sit myself at the bar, angling a stool to watch Wil, who is still talking with the girls, and Samuels, whose day and night jobs still rub me oddly.

Is a rose moonlighting as a terror monger, or is a terror monger feigning a Holy Guard allegiance?

More to the point, how many Viva Sylthia members are hiding in plain sight, leading public lives?

“Might I welcome you to the Wandering Dog, guardsman?” A pretty blonde with a melodic voice perches on a stool beside me.

I push my own stool away. “I’m quite all right, thank you.”

The girl follows.

Luca, back at a table with Trace, salutes me with his mug. “Enjoy,” Luca mouths, and I swallow a groan. Bloody stars. The girl is hired and paid for.

“I’m Sonia.” Her fingers slide toward mine. Clearly, she has no intention of risking her business or reputation by failing to properly seduce a young lad. “You have a name?”

“Luca-killer,” I mutter, shooting my benefactor a dagger-filled glare.

“Killer, I like that.” The girl traces the curve of my ear. “Very strong.”

“It is actually Kal.” I push my chair back another foot. “And I’d prefer to spend the evening alone. No offense intended, Sonia. You are very lovely.”

“Kal.” Sonia plays with the name on her lips.

Her smile is kind and inviting. She’s about my age—my real age—but at the moment, I feel as young as Kal looks.

Sonia’s gaze brushes my hair and continues behind me, an eyebrow cocked in question.

When the gaze returns to me, no doubt after visiting Luca, it’s more determined than ever.

Sonia reaches toward my thigh and the appliances that I am very much missing.

I block her hand.

Sonia studies me with the air of a cook determined to pluck an evasive chicken.

“Will you take a walk with me, Kal? I could do with a bit of air.” She grabs my collar and pulls me none too gently toward the back until the sounds of rutting applause from the onlookers make it impossible to do anything but follow.

Bloody Wil, my last line of defense, gives me a thumbs-up.

In a moment, the cool evening wind is kissing my skin and the sounds of the Wandering Dog dampen behind the shut door. At least now I know what might have brought Novan into the back alley.

“I like the bit of quiet, don’t you?” Sonia asks, all but pinning me against the wall. She places a gentle finger on my face, tracing my cheekbone. “You’ve not done this before?” she says kindly.

I grasp both her wrists and hold them a safe distance from me.

“Whatever Luca paid you, I’ll double it if you say we did it and.

.. and... that I was good. All right?

” I clear my throat, changing tack. “Wasn’t someone killed here not long ago?

” I ask before Sonia can return to her original mission of corrupting Kal. “A guardsman trainee, like me?”

Sonia nods reluctantly. “It happens.”

“Got drunk and got dead?”

“It wasn’t like that.” Sonia pulls her arms from my grip and wraps them around herself, a flash of grief sparking in her eyes. “Novan... Novan was kind and not usually one for excess. I don’t want him remembered as a drunk just because of one bad night.”

“He picked the wrong night to change his habits,” I mutter.

“He had a bad night,” she says again, gazing down at her feet.

“He told me that a girl he cared deeply for had fallen in with the wrong type of people. The day he was killed, he had tried to get her to come back and... well, rejection will put anyone in his cups for a night.” Her eyes return to me, professional once again.

“Enough about such things.” She ruffles my hair.

“You are downright adorable, Kal. If you’ve no wish to do it , perhaps you’ve some questions about it that I might help with? ”

The questions I have are more to do with Samuels’s trade than Sonia’s, but I little want to raise her suspicions.

Plus, I’ve had both Samuels and Wil out of my sight for longer than I’d like already.

Taking off my cloak, I wrap it around Sonia’s shoulders and place my hand on the small of her back, the way men do.

“We should head back inside,” I say, slipping the promised coin into her pocket as I steer her toward the door.

The greeting applause—unabashedly led by Luca—is enough to turn my face the appropriate shade of burgundy to support their theories.

“A strong buck, this one,” Sonia says, winking in my direction as she returns my cloak.

Except I’m not paying attention to Sonia anymore because the table where I left Wil not five minutes ago is empty.