Page 144 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

I smiled at him, tight-lipped. “I don’t haunt so easily.”

He grinned. “I like her.”

“Tell us about the assassins,” Remy cut in.

Derren leaned back, arms crossed lazily. “Only a few here would dare cross the Order. Not if they like breathing. But we got a handful with nothing to lose.”

He nodded toward a table where three men were playing dice.

“That one?” I asked.

“Name’s Harven.”

I shook my head. “Not him. He’s too small.”

He pointed at another, older, with a crooked jaw. “Drel.”

“Not him either. He’s the size of a small dragon.”

Derren frowned, then tapped his fingers. “Then it must be Lomard. He’ll be in shortly. Drinks himself stupid every night just past supper.”

Remy nodded. “We’ll wait.”

Derren poured himself a drink from a flask and offered none.

“And the Lucorin?” I asked. “How often is it used?”

He chuckled darkly. “More than you’d think. Especially among the court.”

“What?” My brows pulled together. “Why?”

Derren’s smile turned sour. “Females dose nobles when they’re ordered to get pregnant.”

My stomach turned. “Ordered?”

“They prefer noble blood,” he said. “Or so I’m told.”

“Why would they have a child out of wedlock on purpose?”

Derren looked genuinely surprised. “You’re an Order daughter. How can you not know how that works?”

Remy’s jaw clenched. “If a noble gets a commoner pregnant, he’s legally required to support her. It’s a way to extort nobles across the city.”

“That’s how the king knew there were commoners with magic,” I murmured.

“It’s likely,” Remy said softly.

Before I could respond, the door slammed open.

A man stepped inside, broad-shouldered, with a battered coat and a deep scar down the left side of his neck. His voice boomed through the tavern as he waved off the barkeep.

“Ale. Now.”

My stomach twisted.

I knew that voice.

“That’s him,” I said, my voice low, sharp. “That’s the one who dosed me.”