d of stale ale an

sloshing onto the floor. The man beneath her grip-some puffed-up noble's lackey with a velv

slicing through the tavern's raucous

k for Prince Killian. You'll lo

n the drunkards in the corner

laug

leaned down, her braid slipping over one shoulder like a noose ready to tig

e man's nose with

ns cheering, others scrambling for the door. The man howled

life! he screeched, clutching

users and tossed a copper coin onto

old Tomas, caught her arm. His face had gone ashen. Elora

ll, she snapped, yanking free. Let Killian

rough the tavern door. Behind her, the man's threat

's

e doesn't

's got a

nned into

o