What could she possibly have that would interest me? I found myself glancing toward that soft green glow. “Go on then. Tell us what it is.”
A heavy pause punctuated the air.
And then she said, “A ring.”
I lost my grip on my magic, accidentally slamming the drunkard’s head against the table. “Anemeraldring?” I blurted, my heart pounding in my chest. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.
The woman’s pale hand flew to the green light. “How did you know?”
Shit shit shit.How had she gotten my feckin’ ring?
I’d tried for centuries to retrieve it from the vindictive witch who’d cursed me. That ring was the answer to all my unspoken prayers. The only thing in this world that could set me free from the curses slithering beneath my skin.
I slammed the book closed, shifting it to the bar. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll do it.” I’d get that ring back one way or another, even if I had to resort to torture. Although, I could think of a few more enjoyable ways to convince her. Like burying myself between her thighs and making her beg for release.
“You’reTadhg?”the woman choked.
“I am,” I said with a strained smile. Feckin’ brilliant. Oran had told her my feckin’ name.
She stumbled back, eyes blown wide.
What the hell was her problem with me? Sure, my clothes were in an awful state, and I had on the enchanted kohl. The blood beneath my nails probably didn’t give the best impression either. But that had been the mercenary’s fault, not mine. The bastard bled like a stuck pig.
I was literally cursed to look like her feckin’ fantasy. And yet she glared at me as if I’d turned myself into a feckin’ serpent. “Is that going to be a problem?” I asked even though the answer was fairly feckin’ obvious.
She pointed to the white-haired man.“Why can’t he bring me?”
The woman preferred a man reeking of mead and vomit overme? The man wouldn’t have been able to get her out of the pub in his state, let alone into Tearmann. I gave his boot a kick. The drunkard didn’t so much as twitch. “He doesn’t seem up to the task at present.”
The woman’s black lips pinched. “Then I’ll ask someone else.”
She’d rather brave a cross-country trip with a bloodthirsty mercenary?
“Suit yourself.” She’d probably end up dead by the end of the week. And if she died, that ring would return to the person who gave it to her. To Fiadh.Dammit. This may be my one and only chance to get it back. “Although, no mercenary can get through the Black Forest alive, let alone into Tearmann. And the Gancanagh’s castle?” I laughed. “Not a hope.”
Crossing the Queen’s Forest without permission meant paying the death tax. Hell, sometimes the Queen required the tax even if you did have permission. And in the extremely unlikely event that she made it to my castle, the wards around the gates would keep her out.
With narrowing eyes, the woman crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose you know how to get me through the Black Forest.”
I grinned, the shadow of my curse prowling beneath my skin. “I know how to get you through the Black Forest.”
Her brow furrowed and hands twisted as she considered. With this feckin’ curse, most women jumped at the chance to get me alone. Did I have something in my teeth? Had my cursed glamour stopped working?
“All right,” she said with a resolute nod, as if she were the one doing me the favor. “You bring me to the Gancanagh, and I will pay you five hundred pieces of silver.”
Oran swore under his breath.
“I’ll meet you in the village square tomorrow, one hour before the market closes.” I’d change her mind before the sun set, get my ring, and tell her to keep those coins.
Her daintily arched eyebrows rose slowly. “Before it closes? Why so late?”
Because if I was going to meet her again, I wanted to be at full strength. The little act with the drunkard had already cost me too much. And tomorrow was Friday, meaning I’d be spending most of my day with a plank of wood digging into my ass, listening to my people bicker.
Instead of telling her any of that, I said, “I have business to attend to. Oran?” The man straightened. “Show the lady out.”
The miserable human’s considerable girth jiggled when he shoved open the door. Grumbling under her breath, the woman tucked the purse into her pocket and stomped out. Her cloak billowed around her as she hurried up the narrow alley, away from the river.
She would be staying somewhere in town. Someplace nice, if the quality of her shiny boots and the heft of her purse were an accurate indication of her wealth.