The general unsheathed his sword, playfully touching the hilt in a not very subtle threat. “It would be best for you to start speaking honestly from now on, Dane. Did you let them cross the tunnels?”
“Why should I be, when I can see honesty is a quality you are lacking in yourself?”
A growl erupted from Ranier’s throat, making Keilan take two steps back in instinct. Dane didn’t even flinch. A voice gentle as a summer breeze echoed from the back of the place. As it got closer, Ranier noticed for the first time a glimpse of panic spark in the old man’s hazel eyes.
“Honey, we’re heading to the market. Would you like—” Mrs. Weller’s words were interrupted when her eyes lay on the bearded, armed stranger hovering over her husband.
The woman’s balance faltered, but the little girl in her arms didn’t. She stared at him with narrowed eyes, sticking her tongue out in defiance. A vicious, small thing, apparently.
Ranier’s smile grew wider. There was no better way to retrieve information than to make people watch their loved ones in danger. He envisioned himself cutting off that small tongue as he would his assistant’s.
“You did not mention you had such a beautiful family, my dear friend, Dane.” Rainier’s chin could be very well dripping with poison, like the snake he was.
“Who is this, Dane?” Freyah’s mother asked, her hands on her husband’s shoulder.
“A friend,” he said, although the sword on the general’s hands did not give the idea that he came for a cold pint. “Don’t worry about me, my love. You should go. I’ll meet you later at home.”
Ranier placed his hand on his chest as if hurt by the man’s words. “I don’t think you are in a position to demand who comesand goes now, Dane. Not when I would very much enjoy getting to know your wife and your little girl better,” he said, squeezing Dhalia’s cheeks.
Dane’s hand moved on its own, ripping the general’s hand from the girl’s face.
The tip of his sword flew to Mr. Weller’s neck, the pressure against his skin on the verge of drawing blood. “I’ve got to say, I admire your bravery, Dane. You would have been a good addition to my battalion many years ago, but as you are on the other side of this sword, your actions turn your bravery into stupidity.”
Mrs. Weller’s whole body trembled as the life of her husband lay in the hands of a degenerate man. She forced the girl’s face to her chest to prevent Dhalia from witnessing the scene.
“Let them go, and I will help you,” Freyah’s father murmured.
“That is indeed a wise decision, my friend.” Ranier turned his sword toward the woman and the child, not close enough to touch them, only to threaten. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully, for you, we won’t see each other again.” He winked.
Mrs. Weller ran with the girl in her arms, even as fear tried to freeze her in place, hoping she would see her husband again.
“No more bullshit, Dane. I am not usually this patient.”
Dane’s eyes drifted once again to his daughter’s face on the crumpled poster. “Why are you after them?”
Ranier climbed the counter effortlessly, landing beside Dane. “Oh, for Heldraine’s sake, Dane. Tell me who they are and where they are going, and we’ll leave.”
Dane closed his eyes, thinking about his daughter and her generous heart. He thought of Alissa and the child he loved as a granddaughter. Dane would rather die than point this man anywhere in their direction. He had cowered before these men in the past; this time, he would not.
“I will never tell you.”
Ranier sighed, annoyed. He kicked Dane’s leg, forcing him to the floor. “In a second, when the pain is too overwhelming for your weak body, make sure to remember this was your fault,” he growled as his sword cut through the air, chopping off Dane’s left hand.
To the general’s surprise, the amputation did not have the effect he desired because the whimper he had heard came from Keilan, not from the man whose blood gushed out in an abundant current. The fact that Dane remained still only made him madder.
Heavy footsteps thundered inside when all five of his soldiers returned to the tavern. Ranier hadn’t even noticed he had been questioning the man for almost an hour.
“If you do not have any information to give me, go back out there and make those people talk!” he roared without shooting his men a second glance.
“We do have relevant information, sir,” one of the Iron Claws stated.
The general could not stop the slightest flinch of embarrassment from his face, thinking he had been the only one incapable of gathering information from the Brynardians.
“Their names are Alissa Kriegen and Freyah Weller.”
“Weller, huh?” Ranier asked, a satisfied smile appeared on his lips as Dane’s eyes shut in defeat. “Would it have hurt to tell me she is your daughter, Dane?” he asked, piercing the tip of his sword on Dane’s thigh.
Still, Dane did not react; grief was too heavy to even imagine this ruthless man heading toward his girls.