Page 79 of The Queen's Line
If I'd known Bryony had something like this, I'd have…
Steal it, I thought.It's a fortune of magic, if not outright gold too.
I sighed and released the impulse, glancing up into Stark's rare gaze. "Come with me. I can fashion something for that and…we can speak more on your concerns with the guards."
"It's not just the guards—" Cresswell started.
"Just save it," I said, holding a hand up. "And put that away for now."
He tucked it back into his jacket, and I was relieved to see the magic seemed willing to hide. Magic was fussy, like a living creature almost able to make its own decisions. The blade could've been a beacon with that kind of magic, at least here in the north where power came in thin scraps. Hopefully, whatever I fashioned out of it would be equally content to go unnoticed.
We reached the Wing and Rook in silence, and Cresswell had the sense to keep his head down and look the other way as we entered the bar. Unusual looks weren't rare in my court, thieves and outcasts often finding common and comfortable ground together here, and Cresswell managed an unassuming slouch to his posture that invited being overlooked as we moved to meet Otto behind the bar.
"He's in there waiting for you," Otto said, good eye tracking Cresswell.
"You know better than to leave Scrapper unattended. What's he giving you? A cut of what he steals?" I asked, but I grinned with Otto.
Scrapper probably would help himself a bit while alone in my office, but he was always careful never to take more than I could spare or anything I might actually notice was gone.
Otto cranked the keg closed behind as we entered the tunnel, and I heard the scuff and scramble of Scrapper giving up whatever he was investigating. By the time we stepped into my office, he was lounging in a chair in front of my desk, one foot propped up. I gave him a good once over, looking for any new scratches or scrapes. Scrapper was generally the master of his own body, but sometimes it gave him troubles, usually with balance, or joint pain. I squinted at the foot on my desk and decided not to comment, it was gingerly placed and probably had more to do with a twisted ankle than Scrapper being a presumptuous little shit.
"What's he doing here?" Scrapper asked, sitting up, but confirming my suspicions by not moving his foot down.
"You have a mutual friend," I said, gesturing to the free chair before moving around to sit behind my desk. "Her Loveliness," I added, more to see the look on Stark's face when he realized I meant Bryony and that Scrapper beamed at her mention.
"Ah, well," Scrapper said with a sigh and a sidelong glance at Stark, who perched stiffly in a chair. "Yes, word is he goes mooning about after her around the palace."
Cresswell flushed and glared at Scrapper, mouth working, but he didn't deny the taunt.
"But as far as I can tell, he's more interested in doing his duty of service thanservingthe princess," Scrapper said.
"Where are you getting this information from?" Stark barked, and Scrapper sneered back at him.
"Tell him, Scrap. We're here to exchange, not flaunt," I said.
Scrapper huffed and rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat before meeting Stark's eyes again. "Your man Yorley talks too much in the bars here in Rumsbrooke. Whores about a fair bit too. He's reporting to the crown, as well as one named Piper—"
"StanleyPiper?" Cresswell growled, pushing back in his chair and grinding his jaw as he looked absently around the room.
"Mm, but Piper's not a fan of Yorley and he likes the position," Scrapper said.
Cresswell blew out a long breath and slanted his gaze back at my spy. "And who's there for the council?"
Scrapper pursed his lips and shrugged, but I cleared my throat and nodded at him.
"Nicholas Walsh," both men said at once.
"And that new steward," Scrapper added, miffed at not having the news exclusively.
"Everyone knows about Farraque already," Cresswell answered with a wave.
"And Camphrey, Blunt, Sapian," Scrapper rushed out.
"Shit!"
Scrapper leaned back, smug once again as Cresswell covered his mouth with his hand.
"She's practically surrounded," I murmured, frowning.