Blood Oath (The Darkest Drae Book 1)(4)

I had no desire to do dishes for the rest of my life, so I’d say nothing of the sort. I was getting tired of being stuck in the middle of these two. With a sigh, I shook my head at my friend.

A small, half smile pulled at his lips as he took the few steps back. Placing his hand against my cheek, he said, “I’m sorry, Rynnie.”

His skin was warm, and although the gesture was foreign to our friendship, there was comfort in Arnik’s touch.

“I shouldn’t put you between us,” he murmured. Without waiting for a response, he gave me a boyish wink and slipped into the laneway, his dark clothing blending with the thick shadows from the neighboring stone buildings. His golden hair reflected the moonlight, a beacon for only a second before he pulled his dark hood up, covering his head.

I’d heard Lord Irrik could hear a person exhale from a mile away and could see the warmth within a human body when all sunlight was gone. It was unlikely a cap would help, but it made me feel a little better.

I tossed my rag over my shoulder and went back inside.

Dyter had made quick work of the cleanup. The bench seats were all stacked. I suspected the tables hadn’t been wiped. They’d be sticky by morning from the ale and stew, but I couldn’t lift the benches myself, and Dyter wouldn’t shift them a second time tonight. I’d just have to wipe the spots I could get to. Teamwork at its finest.

Dyter pushed through the swinging door with a mop and a pail. He grinned, and the scar on the left side of his face pulled his upper lip higher so he looked like he was snarling maniacally. “How worked up was the lad?” he asked with a chuckle. “Truthfully.”

I scrubbed at the wood smoothed from generations of elbows and sliding tankards. “You always stir him up and leave me to deal with it.”

I stomped past him to the next table, but he laughed, and I had to work to hide my amusement. I’d known Dyter longer than Arnik, as far back as my memory went. The tavern owner was part father, part uncle, and part friend. He’d helped Mum settle in when she’d arrived in Verald—when I was a baby—and he’d been close to us ever since.

We cleaned the bar area in silence, the familiar companionship its own brand of communication. But the meeting tonight was still a burning mystery to me, and when I couldn’t stand the silence any longer, I asked, “How did it go?”

Sure enough, he grinned his lip-pulling snarl. “How did what go?”

I threw my rag at his face.

He gave mercy, tossing me the soiled cloth back. “Oh, the rebel meeting? It went well.” He paused before amending with, “Very well. Now is the time to overthrow King Irdelron and the House of Ir. I feel it. The king is desperate to find something to end the famine, and it weakens him.”

“He cares about ending the hunger?” Contradictory, considering his brutality.

“He cares about staying alive and keeping his arse on the throne, Ryn. There are many things you can do to people without them rebelling, but starving them isn’t on the list. As cruel and rich as King Irdelron is, he’s not an idiot. The situation is nearing a boiling point. More people have joined our cause in the last three months than the last three years.”

I thought about the last few months as I scrubbed at the sticky ale. Nothing seemed different. People were starving now, just like they had been last year and the year before that. “How do you know he’s desperate?”

“You haven’t noticed the extra soldiers?” Dyter stopped his cleaning to raise his brows. “What about the extra beatings?”

I shook my head, averting my gaze. I wasn’t really into the rebellion, but I should’ve noticed extra beatings.

Dyter pursed his lips and leveled me with a serious stare. “What about the giant black Drae circling the skies?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course.” Only, I hadn’t. Mild anxiety pushed the next question from my lips. As much as I liked to tease about Dyter being an old coot, he was like family. “In that case,” I continued, “are you sure you should be having rebel meetings here?”

Dyter shrugged. “People meet up here on a day-to-day basis. To the outsider, there’s nothing amiss.” His face darkened. “As long as Arnik stops bringing pups in.”

But there was truth in Arnik’s argument, too. “You need the pups, old man. They have young bodies that can fight.”

Dyter gave a grudging nod.

I hated upsetting him. “But they can’t do without the experience and wisdom of you oldies.” I smiled as he puffed his chest out a bit. “So,” I continued, sliding my gaze his way, “are you excited to meet Cal?”

Dyter let out a belly laugh that spread to every faded and worn part of the tavern. “You saw the boy by the door. I thought he was going to wet himself with excitement.”

I joined him in laughter. “I thought he’d faint from the mere mention of Cal’s name.” I wasn’t about to admit I’d shovel horse plop for three hours straight to be able to meet the leader of the rebellion. Now, that would be exciting. More excitement than I’d had since the Tals’ donkey escaped their stable and went on a bender about town, kicking the stalls in the market over—I wanted to let it out again.

When the last glass was put away, Dyter held his hand out for my washrag. “You stayin’ the night?”

I had a room upstairs, something Mum had insisted on when I started working at The Crane’s Nest. Curfew was strict here, and the penalties if caught depended on the soldier’s mood at the time. Over the last year, I’d felt a deep pull to be outside in the darkness, and Dyter’s thatched roof didn’t have a window I could see the night sky from.