Page 12 of Inked in Emeralds (Inkbound #3)

T he tavern had only grown louder since I’d left. Dice rattled like the tail of a snake, and a man in the back corner of the room was sawing away at a fiddle like it owed him money.

Duncan and Hook were easy to spot—mostly because they’d claimed the same long table, managing to leave five empty chairs between them. I didn’t roll my eyes, but I wanted to.

I threaded my way through the crush of bodies and slid into the middle chair, planting myself between them like a white flag no one had asked for.

“Room all right?” Duncan asked, voice pitched above the din. He had a near-full mug of ale and the beginnings of a relaxed smile that told me it likely wasn’t his first.

“Fine. Yours?”

Duncan shrugged.

I raised a brow at Hook. His mug looked untouched, and he flicked me a glance before turning his attention back to the crowd at large, no doubt in search of any potential threats.

I swallowed a sigh and let my tired, gritty eyes drift shut for a second.

I’d been dying to tell them what I’d seen in Billy’s bag, but I couldn’t very well shout it across the table.

I was an instant from laying into them both when a saucy barmaid with waist-length platinum hair sidled up to the table.

She wore a scarlet bodice that left nothing to the imagination, and what she had underneath was pretty outstanding, if I did say so myself.

“Hellooo, strangers.” Her gaze landed on Duncan first, flicking over his broad shoulders and then back up to his wide smile.

She twirled a ringlet around her finger.

“Aren’t you a hunk of fresh meat?” She let out a low purr and then stopped short as she caught sight of Hook.

“Well, hello to you as well, sir…I gotta tell you, milk is good,” she said before moving his way and running a fingernail along the rim of his mug, “but cheddar is better. I like ’em smiling and respectful—most days.

But every now and then I like it when they aren’t. If you catch my meaning.”

Oh, I caught her meaning and I hated to agree almost as much as I hated her.

Hook’s lip twitched, but whether in amusement or annoyance, I couldn’t tell.

“Fucking hell, Patrice, we got mouths to feed here!” Skunk hollered from behind the bar where he stood juggling three mugs full of foamy ale.

Her eyes narrowed and she turned, shouting back at the top of her lungs. “Shut up, you weasely, pox-riddled bastard!” She turned back, a beatific smile on her lips like it had never left. “As I was saying, boys…what’ll it be?”

“You guys should get the stew,” I piped in, acid churning in my gut. “Billy says it’s great.”

That much was true, so I only felt slightly guilty. They deserved a few hooves in their stew for acting like a couple of babies. It had nothing to do with this waitress.

Nothing at all…

“Another stew for Billy, and I’ll have the potatoes and cabbage,” I added, putting in the rest of our order before the woman could climb into Hook’s lap.

Patrice nodded and turned to go but then paused, cocking her head as she stared at me. “Why do you look so familiar, sweetheart?”

“Must have a generic face,” I deadpanned.

She shrugged and then sashayed off with a promise to be back soon.

Hook turned his attention to studying the two exits, but was quickly interrupted as Billy sauntered toward us, sizing up the seating arrangement with a snort. She dropped between Duncan and me and lifted her hand for an ale.

“Well, isn’t this cozy.”

If you consider a lion’s den cozy…

“Got room for one more?” A wiry man with iron-gray hair and mutton chops that looked like two dead squirrels pasted to his cheeks slid into one of the last two chairs without waiting for an answer. He wheezed as though he’d run a mile, slapping the table with a grin.

“Evening, folks.” He offered a hand to Billy. “Name’s Jack.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed as she shook his hand. “Seen you around once or twice, old-timer.”

“Old-timer, ay?” he chuckled. “Flattery’ll get you everywhere.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t shove him off the bench for the silly quip.

Our food arrived before long, but it wasn’t Patrice delivering it, which was fine by me.

Stew for the others, a shallow bowl of buttery potatoes and wilted cabbage for me, more ale for everyone.

Jack produced a wooden spoon from his coat pocket and dug in.

“So,” he said through a mouthful, “where’s the road taking you?”

I stayed silent, choosing to let Billy take the lead. She would know what would and wouldn’t be suspicious in these parts, after all.

“The Emerald City.”

The truth was easiest, so long as it didn’t cause any trouble, but Hook still glared at her.

“Have fun,” Jack muttered. “Wouldn’t catch me there on my deathbed. They won’t let you wipe your own backside without a decree. Me, I like my freedom.” He raised his spoon in salute.

“Freedom comes with a price, too.” Billy took a long swallow from her mug before swiping the foam off her top lip. “Sometimes that price is lousy stew and a lumpy bed that smells like goats instead of a city made of emeralds.”

“I always did like goats.” Jack chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Hey, how about we have some fun? Maybe even earn you enough money to buy a couple emeralds of your own.” He pulled a pair of dice from his pants pocket.

Billy’s whole face brightened. There was the hustler I knew and remembered.

“What are the stakes?”

“Silver, of course. Or stories, if you’re broke, I suppose.”

Duncan’s brows rose. “Mind if I join you?”

“The more the merrier.” Jack shoved the mostly empty bowls aside to make space, and then they started rolling.

The game was simple; Roll for high score. Ties went again.

The first round went to Billy with double sixes on her first roll.

Jack groaned as he slid a silver piece her way, but Duncan just grinned as he paid the piper.

Second round, Duncan won with eight. It took Jack another three before logging a win, and it didn’t take long before he was talking shit about “beginner’s luck wearing off. ”

As laughter erupted around me, it almost felt like a normal night at a tavern instead of a pit stop on our way to kill a witch and her legions of flying monkeys.

Between rolls Billy and Jack gossiped about supply prices, common acquaintances, and the best way to cook possum. He was smart, I had to give him that. The man knew every bend between here and The Emerald City, plus where to get the best blackberry mead.

They were so engrossed in their conversation, I realized it was time to make my move.

Now or never.

“I’m going to the ladies’. Be right back.

” I spared a glance at Hook, who nodded absently, his attention still on the entrance as I slipped away, heart thudding.

Halfway up the staircase I risked a glance over my shoulder to make sure no one was tailing me.

I slipped into our room a minute later and let out a relieved sigh when I saw that Billy’s satchel still sat where she’d left it, flap loosely buckled.

Quick in, quick out.

Mouth dry with nerves, I knelt beside the bag and lifted the flap, focused on one thing and one thing only. I’d barely set my eyes on the familiar leather cover when a rustle in the hall had me freezing in place. Footsteps, slow and deliberate, moved down the hall, closer.

Closer.

I yanked the flap shut, heart in my throat, straightening just as the knob turned.

Hook slipped inside, closing the door with a soft snick. He raised a brow as I stared up at him like a raccoon caught raiding the compost heap.

“Why do I feel like half the time I see you, you’re breaking and entering?”

“I’m not breaking. Just entering,” I corrected him. “This is my room…I have a key, remember?”

“That’s picking nits.” He folded his arms. “Want to fill me in?”

“I’ve been wanting to all night, but you guys were being weird sitting twenty feet away from each other and—” I broke off and waved a hand.

“Whatever, doesn’t matter. Bottom line is I think Billy’s tied to all this in ways we don’t understand.

She has a fairytale book, too. Like mine.

Like yours. I saw it sticking out of her bag before we went downstairs. ”

He let out a low whistle. “Well, that complicates things.” He stepped forward, voice low. “Did you open it?”

“I was just about to.” I gestured at the satchel, the guilt hitting hard and fast at touching her personal stuff. She was so guarded…so private. It felt like a violation.

Because it is.

“I was going to ask her about it outright, but what if she didn’t come by it honestly?” We had to take into account that Billy here in Oz might be just as much of a hustler as she was in every other story. Had she stolen it from someone? Or was she given the book by Gayelette, and had come to help?

I rubbed my temples, wishing Gayelette were here now, and feeling bad for even thinking it, given her current situation. For all I knew, the woman was being tortured on some kind of medieval rack for her last visit at this very second.

I shoved that thought away and focused on the now.

“If Billy is still down there fleecing old Jack, we should still have time to?—”

The door handle rattled and even Hook startled. I made a dive toward the bed, and was pretending to fluff my lumpy pillow when Billy strode in a second later, cheeks flushed from ale, victory, or both.

“Had to fetch more coins,” she announced, oblivious. “Old geezer’s had a turn of fortune, but it doesn’t matter how much you lose while the game’s afoot. It only matters what you walk away with.”

Hook nodded, casual. “Truth.”

“We were just…discussing strategy,” I added.

“For dice?” She snorted. “Only strategy is roll high.” She grabbed her satchel and then paused, eyes narrowing between us. “Everything alright with you two?”

“Yup, good,” I said, forcing a smile.

“I know we haven’t spent loads of time together, but it’d go a lot easier between you if you just, you know…fucked it out.”

I blinked. Hook stared.

She rolled her hands. “You know…all that anger and such. Be good for the team on the whole, because right now, it’s a lot.

Think about it, is all I’m saying. But not tonight.

Tonight, you have to come back downstairs with me.

” She slapped Hook’s arm on the way back toward the door.

“I’m going to need some more muscle to help me haul up my winnings. ”

Turned out, she wasn’t wrong. By the time the night was winding down a while later, Billy had a small mountain of silver in front of her, and Jack looked one lost roll away from tears.

I sat pushing lukewarm potatoes around on my plate and tried not to stare at Billy’s satchel slung over her chair.

Maybe it was for the best.

Maybe betrayal was a skill better off left back in Neverland.

I drained my glass and ordered another, not even caring that it was Patrice delivering it this time. I needed a dreamless night of sleep more than I needed a clear head right now. Reality between me and Hook was more than enough.

Sneaking a glance at him from below my lashes, I couldn’t help but think about our night—our almost night—together on the Jolly Roger. The way he touched me…as if he knew exactly what to do to make me?—

He chose that moment to turn his head my way and I stilled, those black as night eyes drawing me in like a magic spell. Billy’s words rolled over me, leaving chills in their wake.

It wasn’t the worst idea, a little voice in my head whispered.

We’d get it out of our system, at least. And who knew? It might even be terrible, which would make this whole existential crisis about it needless.

You might not be magic anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid , a second, meaner voice piped in.

Something told me, mean or not, that was the voice to listen to. Because the short time I’d spent in Hook’s arms had been the furthest thing from terrible. If we did as Billy said? If we fucked it out?

It would rock my world. And my world was already plenty rocked.

I looked away, suddenly interested in the dice game.

Some tension and awkwardness were manageable.

Making big moves when the stakes were this high would be the mistake, no matter what Billy said.

Because even though it hurt, Hook had it right.

Keeping our distance and focusing on the mission needed to be priority one.

Which would be a whole lot easier if he stopped looking at me like he was a starving man, and I was the meal he was dreaming of devouring…

Fucking hell.