“Your children are too young.”
“Then Percy would rule until they came of age, but I … I wouldn’t have to feel this way.” He looked up at Braga. “I don’t know how you managed. How did you find the will to breathe after Clare died?”
“I just did.”
Amrath nodded. “We have a lot in common now, you and I.”
“I’m here for you, sire. I’ll help take care of everything.”
The rain continued.
Royce slipped back inside The Hideous Head without a word and went to stand at the window, soaked and dripping. He’d been going in and out all night. Hadrian had no idea where. Maybe he visited the castle trying to find Gwen, maybe he checked up on Albert, or maybe he just wandered the streets in frustration.
Outside, the rain poured on Wayward Street. Hadrian didn’t know why they called it a street. Even in good weather the dirt lane was little more than a path between shacks, and at that moment it was on its way to being a lake.
Hadrian never left the Head. With four full kegs behind the bar, he typically would have spent the night drinking and the morning sleeping, but he hadn’t had another drop since Royce knocked over his cup. He never said anything, but he knew Royce’s plan wasn’t going to work. Not that it wasn’t worth a try, but what were the odds that Maribor would smile on the likes of them? In the past the gods had always demanded blood.
It was midmorning and Royce was back to pacing, leaving a stain of rainwater on the otherwise dull floor when Hadrian spotted Albert. The viscount was in a full-out run and he suspected it wasn’t because of his desire to get out of the rain.
This is it. Battles always start early.
Hadrian frowned and slipped the big sword over his shoulder as he called out, “He’s coming.”
Royce halted and spun, his face tense.
Albert opened the door, breathing hard and wearing a grin. “It worked!”
“Details!” Royce snapped.
“Heralds have gone out and edicts are posted. The castle announced that the women of Medford House have been cleared of all charges and are now under official protection of the crown. Chancellor Percy Braga signed the proclamation himself. I don’t know how, or what you did, but whatever it was it worked!”
“Where are they?”
Albert shrugged. “In the process of being let out I suspect. You said to run right back here the moment I heard anything.”
For the first time since Albert had left with Lord Exeter’s finger, Royce finally sat. He ran hands over his face, and Hadrian noticed they were shaking.
Going behind the bar, Hadrian pulled out a bottle of rum, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. Adding a fresh pulled mug of ale for himself, he joined Royce and Albert at the table.
“Sorry, it’s not Montemorcey,” Hadrian said, pulling the wine bottle’s cork. He motioned to Albert and the rum.
“Are you sure?” he asked, looking to Royce.
“To Gwen.” Hadrian lifted his mug.
“Can’t argue with that,” Royce said, and nodded at Albert, then poured his wine.
“To Gwen,” Royce and Albert echoed together as they clinked their drinks.
Royce drank and set the glass back on the table. Smiling, he said, “Wow.”
“Grue had good wine? Really?”
“Huh?” Royce looked up, confused. “Oh … no. I’m amazed the plan worked. I never … I mean, it was just too easy, you know? Maybe we should try doing this sort of thing more often.”
“I’m always up for anything that requires less blood.”
Royce nodded and took another sip and grimaced. “Oh damn-yeah, this stuff is hideous.”
“Hence the name.”
Royce left the table as if needing to put distance between him and the wine and went to the window to look out at the street.
“Do you see them?” Hadrian asked.
“Not yet,” Royce replied.
“I wouldn’t worry. Streets are flooded, hard to walk in skirts,” Albert mentioned.
Hadrian stood up. “Who’s hungry?”
“Since the barn, I don’t think I’ll ever pass up the offer of a meal,” Albert said, pouring a second glass of rum.
“Let’s see what Grue has in his pantry.” Hadrian searched the shelves. Grue might not have sold food, but he certainly had plenty. Hadrian found some stale bread, several bags of flour, and a kettle of something. He spotted a hunk of smoked ham on a cutting board and half a waxed round of cheese and hauled them out.
Hadrian returned to the table and set the food down.
Royce stayed by the window, his eyes glued on the street. “Albert, if you still want to leave, I won’t stop you. Gwen is safe, and that’s all I wanted.”
“Well, I don’t know now. I was searching for news in every inn and public house in the Gentry and Merchant Quarters this morning, and apparently no one remembers me from the party-or no one cares. Almost depressing if I were to really think about it. I’m rather invisible. I guess I have that sort of face or personality. Explains a lot, really. No one ever noticed me. In a world of clout and influence that’s a problem, but as the liaison for a pair of thieves, can there be a better talent? Besides, I have to admit I’m impressed. No-forget that-I’m astounded. I thought I was in league with lunatics, but you did it. You took down a ranking noble, rescued all the girls from the dungeon, and no one even knows you did it.”
“That we did it,” Royce corrected.
“Right.” Albert smiled. “I think I’d like to stay and see where this goes. Besides, I already lined up that job. Would seem a shame to disappoint our client.”
He handed the purse of gold to Royce, who began to count the coins.
“Who’s the job for?” Hadrian asked.
Albert pulled his damp hair back into a ponytail and said, “A nice lady who’s being blackmailed by her servant and an evil baron to betray her husband.”
“I like it.”
“Twenty-five gold?” Royce looked up.
“Half now, half when you deliver.”
Hadrian was concerned, but Royce was the first to ask, “What does she want us to do for fifty tenents?”
“Steal an earring.”
“An earring?” Royce asked skeptically. “Is it guarded by demons or something?”
Albert shook his head. “I suspect it’s not guarded at all. Likely just sitting in Baron McMannis’s jewelry box.”
“Fifty gold to return an earring?” Royce muttered incredulously. “What are these earrings worth?”
“Oh, I suspect they’re actually not worth much at all. Old Hurbert isn’t known for his generosity, even to his own wife,” Albert explained. “The money is for saving the woman’s reputation, which is worth far more than any pair of earrings.”
Hadrian pushed out his lower lip and nodded. “This whole noble thing might actually work.” Then turning his attention to Royce, he added, “You owe me.”
Royce scowled. “I know. I know. We’ll deal with that later.”
“He owes you?” Albert asked.
“When you originally went to the castle the night of the party, Royce said you’d run. Disappear with your new clothes.” Hadrian tied up the purse. “Which once again proves that people are basically good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Royce said with a gambler’s confidence. “Albert came back because he didn’t want what happened to Exeter to happen to him, right?”
Albert let his shoulders droop and nodded.
Hadrian raised a finger. “You also said he’d hold out on us if he made any money, and he handed it right over. You didn’t even need to ask him.”
Royce folded his arms across his chest. “Albert? The first time you offered me this purse, you said it held twenty gold. How do you think it magically increased to twenty-five?”
The viscount smiled awkwardly. “You remember that, do you?”
“Albert?” Hadrian frowned and sighed.
“It was just five, and I’ve given you all the money this time. Doesn’t that count for something?” He had a terrified look on his face. “I … I expected I would need them to, you know, get away.”