Page 12

Chapter

Eight

Liam’s mouth quirks into a small, amused smile. “What makes you say that?”

“We failed our first quest,” she groans. “Who’s going to hire a group of adventurers that failed their first quest ?”

Morgan tugs at her braids irritably. “The witch lady escaped. Where the hell are we meant to go from here?”

“Is it because we rolled so bad?” I ask, recalling how poorly last session’s combat had gone for us—or, more accurately, how poorly it had gone for me.

I remember Liam calmly walking us through each step.

Okay, Jules, so you want Kain to rush up and try to slice at one of the evil druids, right? Roll a d20. What’s that—an eighteen? Excellent. Kain rushes forward and cuts the druid down, badly wounding him.

And you, Loren, your rays of fire pierce into the druid’s armor, setting it aflame. Liam had pointed to a handful of six-sided dice. We’ll need you to roll those and add them together to see how much damage you do…eleven points? Beautiful.

Jaylie. You want to try to cast a spell on the witch to stop her from escaping? Big roll for you here. Let’s see. A…nine? He’d paused and given me a gentle, pitying shake of his head. Not quite good enough.

Liam opens his mouth to answer my question, but Noah beats him to it.

“Failing is half the fun, isn’t it? We leave the story up to the dice—good rolls and bad.

” His folding chair squeaks in protest as he leans back on its two rear legs, lacing his broad hands behind his head.

He’s sitting next to me today, and I’m tempted to reach over and catch him before he falls.

But he rocks forward again, planting the chair on the carpet.

His tone is serene. “Maybe we’ll have better rolls this time.

What happens next is up to us. Right, DM? ”

Liam nods sagely, looking pleased.

“Teacher’s pet,” I scoff under my breath, not unkindly.

Noah cants his head toward me and winks.

Liam spreads his hands before him. “Let’s take it from the top, then, friends, and see where we end up.”

Jaylie swallows nervously, and the bob of her throat very nearly brushes the sharp edge of the blade held at her neck.

“Come now,” she says, sounding calmer than she feels as a guard roughly binds her hands behind her back to prevent her from casting spells, “there’s no need for all of this. I’m sure we can work it out, yes?”

Without turning her head, she casts her gaze at her party.

Morgana stands with her arms crossed, armored men flanking her on either side.

Kain bares his long fangs dangerously at the five guards who circle him; Jaylie notices that their leader holds her sword at his sternum with the slightest tremble in her grip.

Loren helpfully holds his wrists out before him, and the guard tying them together looks decidedly uncomfortable with just how much the bard seems to be delighting in the experience.

The guards all wear the blue and white of Lord Donati’s household, and though their armor is polished and their swords gleam, they don’t seem especially skilled. Or clever.

No, that was why Donati hired Jaylie and her team. He wanted undercover specialists. It’s why he kept the guards back at his estate.

Fat lot of good that did for him.

Donati paces in front of Jaylie with his hands clasped neatly behind his back. If he heard her plea, he doesn’t give any sign of it. Eventually he stops, sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jaylie swallows again, and she swears the sword at her neck draws blood.

“How do I know you’re not working with her?”

His words are so soft Jaylie barely hears him. “I’m sorry, what did you—”

“How do I know you’re not working with her ?!” he thunders. Lightning crackles up Donati’s arms, and his eyes spark with barely withheld violence. He has to clench and unclench his fists for several heartbeats before the electricity sizzles out. Every hair on Jaylie’s body stands upright.

“I don’t know who that woman is,” Jaylie protests. “I’ve never seen her in my life.”

The party grunts and murmurs their agreement, and Morgana mutters, “I would have remembered a woman like that.” She almost sounds admiring.

“Lady Shira Soros?” Donati mocks. “You really expect me to believe you’re unfamiliar with her reputation?”

There’s a pause.

“She was the wizard kicked off of the Arcane Assembly last summer.”

Every head turns toward Kain at his revelation. Jaylie never would have thought that the politics of Belandar’s most powerful wizards and sorcerers would be the sort of thing that Kain would keep up with, but he continues to surprise her.

Kain gives a shrug, causing the muscles of his huge shoulders to ripple.

“Everyone was gossiping about it. She was using the Assembly’s resources for dark magic.

Even my father caught wind of it.” Glancing at Kain’s massive curling devil horns, Jaylie resolves to save her questions about his parentage for later—but she winces as Donati turns a suspicious gaze on him.

Hastily, she speaks up. “Clearly we’re not on any sort of professional or working basis with her.

” She clears her throat delicately. “If you like, my lord, my Lady can vouch for me and my companions. She’s gifted me with a spell that has the power to tell truth from lies. I can cast it, if you wish.”

Donati scowls, then shakes his head. “Your offer is enough. I can tell from your blank, foolish stares that you’re not involved with her.”

Morgana’s mouth thins to a grim line, but she says nothing. She looks sidelong to Jaylie.

“Then why all of the dramatics, my lord?” Loren lifts his bound hands toward the wizard.

“We failed to protect you and your bride, and for that we are deeply apologetic, but as much as I enjoy being tied up by a pretty woman…this is not the right context, and it’s unnecessary.

Allow us to give you your initial deposit back, at the very least.”

“Or allow us to right our wrongs.”

Jaylie feels all eyes swivel to her.

Donati’s lip curls. “You were unable to stop Shira today. What mark of confidence would I have in you to stop her tomorrow? To get Alora back?” His voice cracks on his bride’s name, and Jaylie’s posture softens.

“I don’t like to leave a job unfinished, and I cannot walk away from here in good conscience without doing everything I can to set things right,” she says.

Morgana mutters, “Doubt we’d even be allowed to walk out of here anyway.”

Jaylie coughs once, and Loren jumps in. “Tell us everything you know about Shira and Alora, Professor Donati. Give us context to work with, backstory on the politics at play, motives that she might have for capturing your bride. We came into this job with nothing to work with save for an overarching order to try to prevent any chaos that might ensue. That sort of guidance works fine if we’re simply hired to guard a caravan or patrol a festival, but this plot absolutely reeks of drama.

We’re clearly missing something important. ”

Jaylie thinks he should have worked harder to hide his enthusiasm for said drama.

“This was personal, wasn’t it, Donati?” Loren continues in a low voice, leaning forward.

“Perhaps if you and Dorna had prepared us better for what might happen, we could have protected your interests more successfully. But there’s still time.

Tell us what’s going on. Tell us how we can help.

I assure you, we’re of more use to you alive than dead, and you won’t find anyone else with better eyes on this situation than us. ”

Jaylie is convinced by Loren’s persuasive words, but Donati’s face is a mask of irritation and deep thought.

Jaylie does her best to shift slightly to see her own companions’ expressions: a mix of discomfort, anxiety, and a small amount of fear.

No one is enthusiastic to continue working with Donati, but surrounded by the wizard’s personal guard and no other wedding guests—no other witnesses —she doesn’t doubt that Donati has the power to make their lives either very difficult or very short if they can’t assure him of their usefulness.

“Keep them here,” Donati orders. “See that they don’t move while I’m gone.” And in a shower of sparks, he suddenly disappears.

Jaylie exhales sharply from her nose. Obediently she stands still, hands folded behind her back as tense silence stills the air.

A cheerful songbird sings in one of Donati’s lemon trees, and Jaylie unsuccessfully tries to find some peace in listening to its melody.

She can’t lie to herself—she’s scared shitless.

She barely knows Donati, and despite his sweet first impression, she’s clearly misread him.

He could very well be coming back to kill them, and as one of Belandar’s most powerful mages, he would be able to cover up their disappearances easily enough.

Jaylie holds her hands together so tightly behind her back that she thinks her knuckles might crack—until Loren reaches his bound hands forward to lay a soothing palm over her fingers.

Immediately Jaylie’s grip loosens, more from surprise than anything else.

But his touch helps ground her, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, she laces her fingers with his.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even use it as an opportunity to make a pass at her.

Instead, he just stands with her hand in his, rubbing soothing circles over the inside of her wrist with his thumb.

Jaylie concentrates on the motion until Donati reappears in front of them with a sharp crack of thunder.

Everyone—including his guards—jumps to attention.

“All right,” he snaps, striding forward to stand before the loose semicircle of Jaylie and her companions. “You are all going to get one more chance to make this right. But if you fail me again, well…” His expression is a storm cloud. “Let’s not find out.”