Chapter 27

Well, there goes most of the rest of my money, Noah thought as the guards finally opened the door for him. Hope this is worth it.

The first thing he noticed upon stepping inside was an orb of yellow light floating in the center of the room. It was larger than the ones cast using the rune he’d learned to write, and brighter than the streetlamps outside. Magic wasn’t unusual in this world, but its presence here made something click in his mind.

Ohnar has at least one conduit working for him. Maybe a scribe too.

His gaze dropped to the rest of the hall: five circular wooden tables, each crowded with six to eight players. The largest table sat directly beneath the hovering light, with the smaller ones arranged on either side. Scantily clad wait staff—both men and women—wove between patrons, serving drinks and collecting glasses amid laughter, shouting, bluffing, and the general din of a gambling hall. Along the walls, wooden bins overflowed with rainbow‑colored spices, their scent hitting him as he stepped forward.

“Not so fast,” a voice said beside him.

Noah raised his hands and turned. A guard—one of several stationed along the walls—strode toward him with purpose. Unlike the door guards, this one wore a sheathed sword at his hip, a chainmail tunic cinched with a belt, padded black pants, and leather gloves. His eyes narrowed as he set a hand on Noah’s shoulder.

“You know the rules. Gotta search you for weapons first.”

“Of course. My mistake.” Noah smiled.

As the man patted him down, Noah continued scanning the room. He mentally marked the positions of all eight guards and did a quick headcount of the patrons. His eyes froze when they reached the middle table again—specifically, the shock of white‑and‑blue hair seated there.

Of course she’s in the middle of the fucking room.

“No weapons, no spells. You’re clean,” the guard said, stepping back. “There’s a seat open at table two on the right. Enjoy your game.”

Noah followed the instruction, slowing his pace so as not to draw attention. He glanced at nearby tables, trying to glean the rules of the game. All he could gather was that players held three cards and tossed various objects into the center pile. Not helpful.

Time for a different approach.

“Excuse me,” he said, flagging down a waitress. “Can I get a drink?”

“Of course, sir,” she said, flashing a smile far too large to be genuine. “What can I get for you?”

“What do you recommend?”

She tilted her head, blonde ponytail bouncing as she tapped her admittedly pretty pink lips. “Firewater’s good. Made locally with that ground firevine root over there.” She pointed to a large box of red powder at the back.

“Sounds perfect.”

She skipped away, her tiny skirt fluttering just enough to be intentional. Noah resisted the urge to roll his eyes and took his seat. The formally dressed man to his right glanced at him before nodding toward the table.

“You’ll have to wait until this hand is complete before I deal you in, sir. It’ll be several minutes.”

Realizing he was the dealer, Noah shrugged. “That’s fine. I play better with a drink in my hand anyway.”

The dealer returned to the game, while Noah tried to listen in on the conversation behind him—Hannah and a man he didn’t recognize—but the noise made it impossible. When the waitress returned, he tipped her generously, letting his fingers move slowly as his eyes drifted upward. It gave him the perfect excuse to study the pair at the other table. By the time he finished paying, he’d committed the scene to memory.

Well, they’re certainly not playing cards.

The man speaking with Hannah wore a loose white shirt, black leather boots, and black pants. He was the only person besides the guards allowed to keep his weapon—a sword at his hip—and he idly twirled a set of brass knuckles in one hand. His bald head gleamed under the light, and he sported a brown mustache he curled at the ends as he listened.

That’s gotta be Ohnar. He’s almost cartoonishly evil‑looking.

Noah took a sip of his drink and winced as the spice burned all the way down. The waitress did say firevine, didn’t she? This tastes way spicier than the sandwiches in the forest.

Suddenly, the man narrowed his eyes and stood. Hannah rose a moment later, but before she could move, three guards converged and grabbed her. Ohnar shook his head as she screamed obscenities while they dragged her toward the back.

“You fucking asshole! You sold me out!” she shrieked, silencing the room.

“I’m afraid I did, my dear!” he replied in a surprisingly effeminate voice. “And I would do it again!” He spread his arms wide. “For after all, I am nothing if not a businessman, am I not?”

Laughter rippled through the hall as the guards hauled Hannah through a back door Noah hadn’t noticed. His mind raced. He needed a plan—and fast. His eyes dropped to the drink in his hand, throat still burning.

I really hope this works.

He stood and moved with purpose, following the fading screams. When a waitress asked what was wrong, he muttered something about needing the washroom and slipped out into the alley behind the building. He arrived just in time to see two guards pinning a doubled‑over Hannah to the wall while the third rubbed his bruised knuckles.

“Hey! You can’t be back here!” the one who’d thrown the punch shouted.

“What?” Noah replied, pretending not to hear as he approached.

“I said—ahhh!” the guard screamed as Noah flung the contents of his drink into his eyes.

The man clutched his face, blinded. Noah seized the opening, closed the distance, and kicked him as hard as he could between the legs. The guard collapsed. Another released Hannah to attack Noah, but she shot out a leg and tripped him, slowing him down.

Knowing he couldn’t win a drawn‑out fight, Noah sprinted forward and slammed the man into the brick wall before he could draw his sword. The guard grunted but recovered quickly, punching Noah in the ribs hard enough to crack something. Noah gritted his teeth and head‑butted him, dazing them both.

Hannah handled the last guard with far more finesse. With her hands free and her captor distracted, she struck his eyes, neck, and groin in rapid succession. As he fell, she yanked his sword free and swung it around, pressing the blade to the final guard’s throat.

“Move and I’ll paint the ground with your blood,” she said, voice icy.

The guard froze. Noah backed away.

“You’ll die for this, Fae‑got,” the man growled.

“The fuck did you just call her?” Noah blurted, stunned.

A flicker of emotion crossed Hannah’s face before she switched to Fae. “We need to go. Now. Someone will have heard.”

“The outside guards will be here any minute,” Noah replied in Fae. “What do we do with him?”

She narrowed her eyes, drew the man’s truncheon while keeping the blade at his throat, and nicked him—just enough to make him look down. The moment he did, she cracked him across the head, knocking him out cold.

“There,” she said, sliding the sword into her belt and turning to run.

“Don’t.” Noah grabbed her arm. “We’re not getting out that way.”

“We need to go!” she hissed.

He shook his head and moved to the back wall of the alley—the one shared with the next street over. “Here,” he said, crouching and cupping his hands. “Put your boot here. I’ll lift you up, then you pull me.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Hannah, just fucking do it!”

She realized he wouldn’t budge, took two running steps, and planted her boot in his hands. He heaved upward—harder than necessary, as she was lighter than he expected—and she let out an undignified yelp as she scrambled onto the flat stone roof.

Voices approached from inside the building.

“Hannah! Hurry!” he whispered.

For a terrifying second, he thought she might leave him. Then her arms appeared over the ledge, grabbing him and hauling him up. She pulled hard enough that they tumbled backward, Noah landing on top of her.

“Sorry, I—”

“Shh!” she whispered, gripping him to keep him still.

They listened as guards below discovered the bodies and shouted orders. Wide‑eyed, they stared at each other, praying no one looked up. When the voices retreated, Noah rolled off her and the two crawled across the roof before dropping down onto the next street.

“The boat’s this way,” Hannah said as Noah started uphill.

He shook his head. “Ciri’s hiding nearby. I’ll get her and meet you back at the boat. You okay getting there alone?”

She glanced toward the spice market, then nodded. “Yeah. Just… they took my sword. That was a good sword.”

“There’ll be others.”

“If you’d let me handle them, I probably wouldn’t have lost it.”

“Handle them?” Noah raised an eyebrow. “They were going to kill you.”

“Going to,” she shot back. “Hadn’t done it yet. And I’ve been in worse spots.”

Noah shook his head and rolled his eyes as he stepped away. “You know, most people would say ‘thank you’ for what I did tonight.”

“Most people wouldn’t meddle in my business.”

Shouts echoed through the night, cutting off the retort rising in Noah’s throat.

“We’re out of time. Get back to the boat. I’m going to get Ciri.”

“Fine,” she said, turning on her heel and jogging off into the dark.

That could have gone better, Noah thought as he turned and jogged uphill.

The shouts of alarm followed him from the other side of the row of buildings, prompting him to tear off his shirt and toss it down a random alleyway before breaking into a full sprint. He reached Ciri’s hiding place a minute later, ducking into the alley while sucking in deep breaths of air. She darted toward him the second he rounded the corner, wrapping her arms around him.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Coat,” Noah croaked between wheezes.

She tilted her head in confusion until he pointed at the coat she still held. Realization crossed her face and she quickly unravelled it, tossing it over his shoulders. He pulled up the hood and leaned one arm against the alley wall, his breathing gradually returning to normal.

“Did it work?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped suddenly. The sound of guards’ voices carried across the street, along with dozens of hurried footsteps. Thinking quickly, he pulled himself closer to her, looking her in the eyes.

“Kiss me.”

“I do not believe now is the best—” she started.

“They’re looking for me. Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.”

Needing no further invitation, Ciri shoved Noah against the back wall and attacked his lips with hers. He returned the kiss fervently, sliding his hands into her coat so he could squeeze her ample ass—something he knew she loved. She moaned into his mouth in reply before opening it, pressing her tongue against his.

There was an awkward shuffle of footsteps before a guard peered into the alleyway, torch held high. Noah half-watched from beneath his hood as he kissed across Ciri’s face and down her neck, making her shiver with pleasure. She opened his coat to run her fingernails along his bare chest, exposing his pale skin. The guard-turned-voyeur watched the show a moment longer before grunting, shaking his head, and moving on.

He continued to kiss Ciri until he was sure the man was gone. “That was close.”

“…What? Oh. Yes,” Ciri said, blushing and flustered.

“Come on. We need to get back to the boat.”

“I agree. We will need some privacy.”

Noah raised one eyebrow. “Privacy?”

“For sex,” she clarified. “We will be having sex.”

“No objections here. Let’s just get out of danger first. Hannah should be there before us, so we can leave as soon as we get there.” He nodded as they moved out of the alley. “And maybe tomorrow we can unpack one of those boxes and find me a new shirt.”

“How did you lose your shirt?”

“I took it off.”

“Why?”

“They were looking for someone with a beige shirt, not someone shirtless and making out with his hot Fae girlfriend.”

“Ah. An ingenious ruse.” She nodded. “You seem to know a great deal about this topic. Have you spent time evading law enforcement before?”

“No. But I’ve seen a few movies.”