Page 6 of The Breaker of Stars

“Two ales, please.”

She nodded, wandering down the bar to grab the drinks. I fished the coins from my pocket and left them for her.

Pulling a stool out, I nearly fell into the seat and leaned on the corner between the bar top and wall, head thudding back against the wood and eyes closing. I needed to calm myself down, regain some semblance of control.

There was a dull thunk and the jingling of the coins I’d dumped on the bar.

“Thank you,” I said without opening my eyes.

“Food will be out shortly,” she answered, and her steps faded into the chatter through the dining room.

With Vale upstairs and away from the watchful crowd, I was able to settle down. Able to tune out the obnoxious conversation of the men bordering on obscenely intoxicated. I was glad I’d come to get food rather than Vale.

And there she is, consuming my thoughts again.

Grumbling, I took a swig of ale. It was light with a hint of orange, one I hadn’t tried before. Tolek would probably like it, but I preferred something more bitter. Stronger.

At least I had two.

Trying to distract myself, I pulled out a piece of parchment and my well of Mystique ink. Not that this was any more pleasant than the Starsearcher upstairs, but at least writing these letters was a routine I could walk through each day to make it feel like I was doing something useful. My friends liked to tease my orderly habits, but a list of tasks kept me focused. And focus meant I was earning something. Albeit, as I scrawled the letter, I couldn’t quite say what I was earning.

Perhaps the title of doting son. Though, would one who qualified as “doting” truly have left?

As I folded the slip of paper and sent it off over the nearest mystlight, to a city hundreds of miles away, I tried not to picture the cold, empty house, cruel winter air streaking through cracks between the molding. Elbows braced on the bar, I scrubbed my hand over my face.

At the table behind me, someone complained, “No, Carthern, we can’t lose any more money!”

“I hear there’s a big beast of a warrior fighting these days,” a man muttered, trying to keep his voice down, but my attention was caught by that one word. Fighting. “He just returned from the battles down south. Quiet and broody, spoiling every night. Always wins.”

“If he always wins, then we won’t get much coin betting on him.”

“That’s where you’re not listening to my plan, Allisman. We bet against him.”

My knuckles burned with memories of fights splitting them open. Stinging, blood dripping slow and warm across the cracked skin. I flexed my hands, that familiar itch starting in the tips of my fingers and traveling all along my body, longing for a fight. To check off another title earned.

Needing it.

I bit back the urge. I had a job here, one that would be jeopardized by giving into impulsive desires.

“Nah, you haven’t thought that through,” Allisman, dismissed. “People are rarely betting coin nowadays.”

“They’re trading something better.” There was a hungry tone to Carthern’s ambition now, bordering on greedy. My fingers curled around the edge of the counter. The barkeep dropped our food before me, but I barely looked at the tray. “They’re trading fates.”

The wooden legs of my stool scraped against the floor as I shot up, spinning to crowd their table.

“Where are they?” I ground out, fingers flexing at my sides. Spirits, I wished I still wore my blades. Not only was I exposed without them, but warriors were much more willing to negotiate with a glint of steel reflecting in their stare.

“Where are what?” Carthern echoed. He was gaunt, but his eyes shone.

“The fighting rings you’re talking about.” I braced my hands on the table, leaning further into their space. Not enough to be entirely overbearing, just a shadow of intimidation. “Where are they?”

I could go tonight. Vale was safe upstairs. She wouldn’t miss me, and if I won and could earn a piece of information about the Starsearchers’ celestial readings without having to expose her secrets?—

“Lumin.”

Angel’s fucking luck. Half a day away.

I pushed back upright, crossing my arms. “Those are the closest?”