Chapter Three
“ I ’m so glad you decided to join us,” Car purred.
Barith sat on the opposite side of the large steaming soaking tub, taking up nearly as much space as Levian and Car combined. He looked as surly as he had in the middle of that field only an hour early. He’d barely spoken since he’d arrived, draped only in the purple and pink knitted afghan she’d given him, and unceremoniously dropped himself into their soothing milky bath at The Dragon’s Delight .
Levian felt uneasy, which irritated her. She’d not been sure Barith would come and was pleased to see him. She’d even found all the staff’s tittering over the fact that a half-naked dragon had shown up at their door quite amusing. What unnerved her was that he’d not said a word since he’d arrived and seemed content to look sour and stare at a bit of wall behind her head.
After half an hour of listening to Car ramble about his mundane duties as High Daemon Lord, Levian was ready to sink beneath the milky waters and not resurface until they left.
“—and not only did I have to bow to the Autumn Fae Queen formally, but she also insisted I bow to all nine of her hideous, supposedly rare, cats,” Car concluded with exaggerated distaste, finishing his long-winded tale about his recent visit to Fümhar, the home of the Autumn Fae.
“Sounds tedious,” Levian muttered, barely hiding her disinterest.
Car’s gaze shifted from Levian to Barith before he huffed dramatically and stood, sending water splashing over the tub’s edge. “You two are unbearably dull,” he snapped, stepping out of the bath and wrapping himself in a silken black robe that matched his briefs. “I’m going for a massage,” the daemon declared, brushing his damp hair behind his horns. “And for the love of everything sacred and filthy in this world, please sort out whatever this is. I’d rather sit in a meeting with one of my odious advisors.”
Levian glared at him, but Car only cocked a sassy brow in return. “Neither of you have said hardly a word in almost thirty minutes, and even I can grow tired of hearing myself talk,” he huffed.
Barith let out a disbelieving laugh, and Car shot Levian with a knowing look before stalking out of the room. She understood: he wouldn’t return until the unfinished business between her and Barith was resolved.
“He’s always liked the sound of his own voice more than anythin’ else,” Barith grumbled not long after Car had left.
Levian scoffed, standing to step out of the bath herself. “Don’t make this about Car,” she clipped, wrapping herself in her fine silk robe before padding wet steps across the wood-planked floor to pour herself a glass of chilled wine. “Why did you even come here if you were just going to sit there and stare into the void?”
Barith didn’t immediately answer. When she turned back, wine in hand, she saw him staring down into the water, his expression strained. For the first time since his arrival, Levian let herself really look at him. Barith was enormous, even for a dragon. Tall and broad with muscle. His sun-kissed skin had deepened in color since she’d last seen him, his freckles more pronounced from his time in the sun. His usually unruly auburn hair was now neatly trimmed, though long enough for him to run his fingers through. Damp strands framed his tense face. His beard, too, was freshly groomed, accentuating his sharp jawline. He looked polished, almost regal, but not himself. He looked worn and nothing like the jovial, light-hearted dragon she knew him to be.
Levian’s heart softened despite her irritation. They hadn’t spoken since Barith had left for home this past winter. The distance, the rapid changes—everything stung. Her anger was irrational, she knew, but it was there all the same. Burning inside her like a fanned fire. She’d missed him. Levian hadn’t realized how much until he’d come flying out of that wall in a ball of fire. And by his countenance, Barith was struggling with something far heavier than mere worry over her safety.
“What is this about, Barith?” she asked, this time with more gentleness.
He looked up, his amber eyes flecked with gold meeting hers. There was always a warmth and sincerity in them she’d found endearing, but at that moment, all she saw was a storm lurking beneath. Barith sighed heavily through his nose, and his shoulders slumped. “I came to make sure you were safe,” he repeated.
“I am, for the moment. Though it’s been a rather trying day,” she replied coolly. The dragon was going to take a bit more coaxing.
Barith shifted in the tub. “How’s the ankle?” he asked, glancing at it.
“Fine. Nothing a healing tonic couldn’t fix,” she said—a nd a few more glasses of wine.
“What’d you find at the house?” he pivoted, steering the conversation away from himself.
“Something I hope will help me track down these thieves,” Levian said vaguely.
Barith gave her a pointed look. “I gathered that, mage,” he replied dryly. “But fine. Dinnae tell me.” He ran a hand through his damp hair to push the loose strands from his face, the muscles in his arm and chest bulging. “What’d they take?” he asked, changing tact.
Levian fiddled with a few frizzy pink curls that had escaped the silken scarf she’d wrapped them in. It was not like her to feel so self-conscious in front of Barith. He usually was the one looking a mess, and she was perfectly manicured. It was unnerving for their roles to be reversed. She’d always been bookish but never used it as an excuse to look anything less than fabulous, an achievement she was failing at currently. Exhaustion had her feeling and looking rather haggard.
“The thieves? Which time?” she responded, half distracted. Barith looked grumpy but rather fine; his freckles were more prominent over his tanned shoulders thanks to spending shirtless hours in the sun. It hadn’t escaped her notice that his Scottish brogue was more pronounced from his time back home, either.
Barith’s brow furrowed as he leaned back, his bulging arms resting along the tub’s edge. “All of ‘em,” he prompted.
Levian sighed before taking a hearty sip of her wine. “There have been five thefts or at least attempted thefts that I’m aware of,” she began. “The first was a mage in Japan, but I only got involved after King Thurin realized items were missing from his private vault. At first, I thought Nestra might be behind it—” Barith’s expression darkened at the mention of Nestra, the former zephyr High Priestess who had tried to kill and steal their friend Gwen’s magick the year before. “—but then someone tried to steal from Abigail,” she continued. “After that, other whispers of thieves with a similar description began to crop up.”
“Similar description?” he questioned.
She nodded. “They always wear black masks—droll, I know. They use rather effective glamours to shield themselves except for the masks.”
He grunted. “There’s plenty of creatures that can see through glamours, but it’s an odd choice.” he pointed out.
Levian had thought the same. “I think they want people to see the masks, but I can’t quite figure out why,” she admitted, swirling her glass. The most apparent reason was that they’d wanted to be recognized, but the thefts hadn’t been high-profile or public enough to warrant a calling card.
“So yer out to avenge Abigail and retrieve King Thurin’s stolen property, is that it?” Barith pressed her.
“Not quite,” she replied haughtily. “Thurin was reluctant to admit anything had been taken from his vault, but when it was clear Nestra wasn’t responsible, he asked me to investigate discretely given that both the items were of Dokk origin.” Levian paused, deciding how much to reveal. She hadn’t even told Carvatticus the full details of the thefts, but he hadn’t exactly asked her either. And this was Barith. She’d worked with the dragon and Sirus to track down thieves many times before and could use someone to bounce theories off of. Levian sat on the bench near the tub and leaned over the edge. “He was missing the journal of a Dokk Lord who helped open the Abyss and a ring that belonged to the same Lord,” she whispered loudly. “A ring allegedly imbued with some dark power.”
“You believe him?” Barith asked, concerned.
Levian shrugged. “I can’t say, but Thurin was concerned about its theft. More than merely angered at it being stolen.”
Barith leaned forward. “So he asked you to tack them down,” he said, trying to follow the story. “And you went to Council?” He added the last with a touch of disbelief.
She sipped her wine before continuing, “I realized quickly that one of the king’s own guards had stolen from him and fled the island. It took me a time to track him down, but when I did, he admitted openly to being hired by brokers who wore black masks and that they’d only paid him half what they’d promised. What they had paid him, he’d already squandered on some new drug called Opal. I didn’t bother to drag him back to Thurin for punishment.”
She brushed her fingers around one of the blooms floating in the bath, swirling it in circles. “I went to Council only after I learned about the mage who’d been robbed in Japan. I couldn’t deduce what had been stolen, but I did discover that his attackers had also worn black masks.”
Barith grunted. “And they asked ye to investigate?” he asked skeptically.
She fiddled with the flower. Levian knew what he was hunting for, and it grated that she was about to give him exactly what he wanted. “Not exactly,” she admitted.
“I figured as much,” he grumbled with admonishment and satisfaction at finally getting her to admit it.
Levian flicked the water from her fingers and pulled away from the tub in annoyance. “They never take me seriously,” she defended sharply. “So I decided to do a little investigating of my own. A pixie friend of mine told me of an item stolen from a collector not long after an auction,” she continued. “A Dokk blade.”
Barith shuddered in the tub, sending water sloshing to the edges but not quite over the top. Dokk blades were rare daggers forged of fae silver and a darkness only the Dokk themselves knew how to forge. Though fae silver could cut and scar immortal flesh, the injuries would heal. A wound inflicted by a Dokk blade healed agonizingly slow, and a direct strike to any vital organ meant certain death.
“Damned black market,” he grunted with disgust. “Those Dokk weapons should all be destroyed.”
Levian agreed. Especially after Sirus’s run-in with one last winter while trying to rescue Gwen. They’d all thought the vampire would surely die, and he would have if not for Gwen and her magick.
“So, that’s three thefts and four things?” Barith continued to press, reaching for his ale.
Levian was momentarily distracted as the dragon twisted to the other side of the tub, his muscles taut and flexed. She’d never been shy about admiring his physique, though her mouth did feel uncharacteristically drier than usual. She’d been so busy the last few months that she’d not thought much about satisfying any need beyond the most basic, and she’d even let a few of those slip. Levian couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a lover. She squeaked in horror when she realized it had been nearly two years.
“Ye alright, Vi?” Barith asked as he turned back around.
Levian’s face heated, and she waved him off. “Fine,” she mumbled. “Just remembering something I’ve forgotten to do.”
Barith took a few gulps from his ale, and Levian cleared her throat, regaining focus. “There were two more thefts,” she continued, “though both were unsuccessful.”
“Abigail?” Barith guessed. Levian nodded, and he genuinely chuckled, a sound that soothed something deep within her. “I bet she was more than a wee bit angry.”
Levian smirked. “They’re lucky they escaped with their limbs intact.”
Barith snorted into his mug. “Aye. They’re lucky their maimed bodies didnae end up buried under Henry’s rose garden.”
She laughed in agreement. Henry was Abigail’s body man—intense, quiet, and deadly efficient—with an uncanny ability to grow the most beautiful roses. No doubt he would have gladly buried the bodies beneath his rose garden if he’d gotten the chance.
“Abigail managed to fend them off,” she told him. “They escaped, unfortunately. But I know there were two of them, and they wore black masks.”
Barith leaned back in the bath, stretching his long legs and propping a foot on the tub’s edge. He swirled his fingers absentmindedly through the water, looking far more relaxed now than when he’d arrived. Her gaze lingered over his damp, very muscled chest, and Levian cursed herself. If she was lusting after Barith, of all people, she was clearly very sex deprived.
“She knew what they were after?” Barith asked.
Levian let out a steadying breath of irritation. “I went to see her after I found out,” she told him. “As far as I know, I’m the only one she told about the attempted theft aside from Henry.”
Barith grunted. “Except now ye’ve told me—and I know ye already told Carvatticus.”
Levian rolled her eyes. “Car knows Abigail as well as we do and knows how to keep his mouth shut. I assume you can, too?”
The dragon scowled. “Of course, I can keep a bloody secret.”
“Then may I continue?” she retorted.
He grunted in response—as if grunts and growls were another language all their own.
“Car doesn’t know what they tried to steal,” she elaborated.
That perked him up. “Aye?” he grumbled smugly. “What was it?”
She nodded, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes at Barith’s evident excitement that he was about to discover something Car didn’t. “It was rubble,” she told him. “A piece of stone from the temple in Celaria.” The old capital city of the Dokk, or the Star-Touched City as it translated from the old fae. “The one destroyed during the Abyssal attack.”
Barith inhaled sharply, his chest expanding above the water. When he exhaled, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “A book, a ring, somethin’ some mage had that ye don’t know about, a Dokk blade, and a piece of old rock from Celaria,” he recalled, shaking his head. “Sounds like a bunch of masked idiots either hired by some insane collector or tryin’ to make their fortune on the black market.”
Levian pursed her lips with frustration. Barith really could be thick-headed sometimes. “I don’t think they are just some ‘ masked idiots’ stealing for fame and fortune,” she snapped. “I don’t know how all the pieces fit yet, but I’ll figure it out. I can feel?—”
“— it in your bones ,” he finished for her. “Aye. I’ve heard ye say it before.”
“Well,” she retorted haughtily, flattening a nonexistent wrinkle in her robe. “It’s true.”
“And Council doesnae know you’re huntin’ these bloody thieves?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“I work better alone,” she insisted, avoiding meeting his gaze. “You know that.”
He snorted. “You think ye do. I know that . But this is serious, Vi. If these thieves have the guts to steal from Abigail and live to talk about it, you shouldn’t be chasing them on your own. You’re a damn good mage, but we both know it’s dangerous and ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” she defended, popping up from her seat.
“Dammit, Levian!” he seethed, embers flickering from his mouth and nostrils, landing with hisses in the water. Barith’s entire body was tense, his skin flushed red, but he took a deep breath and leaned away from her, sending water sloshing over the opposite side of the tub behind him.
Levian stood her ground and glared at him. She could take care of herself, and they both knew it. He was just being overprotective, which she appreciated, but she didn’t appreciate being scolded like a child.
Barith grunted, reading her expression. If he were going to continue down this path, then they’d only end up fighting. He ran one of his hands over the back of his neck, then muttered, “Who else?”
“What?” she clipped.
“Who else did they try to steal from?” he pressed on instead.
Annoyed, Levian rubbed the bridge of her nose. “A half-fae in Paris,” she said.
He huffed a small laugh. “So that’s why you were in Paris.”
She nodded. “He lied about owning some vast collection of rare items to social climb. It worked in his favor for a time but also caught the thieves’ attention. It was hard to deduce exactly what they’d been attempting to steal at first, but there was one particularly rare and obscure item.”
“What you found at the house,” Barith guessed astutely.
Levian hadn’t wanted to share all the details with the dragon, but she was too far to turn back now. Besides, Car knew, so why couldn’t Barith? “It was something called the Heart Orb,” she explained.
Barith cocked his head. “What is it?”
The dragon wasn’t well versed in Dokk lore or interested in their forbidden collectible possessions. Like most of the Folk, he was superstitious when it came to Dokk artifacts and preferred to stay as far away from them as possible. Levian explained a bit about the orb and its supposed dark origin. “I wasn’t sure we would find it in that old house, but we did,” she concluded.
Barith remained pensive and quiet for several seconds before asking, “What are you plannin’ to do with it now?” His voice expressed evident concern, and she could tell he was preparing himself for her to say something obviously dangerous and foolish.
Levian paced along the tub beside him, hoping to make him understand. “I can’t explain it, Barith,” she confessed. “These thieves aren’t just gathering forbidden treasures to lock away. I know they’re up to something, and it’s not a mere coincidence that all of these items are touched by the Dokk. If I tell the Council everything , they’ll take over and probably send me back to babysit King Thurin, and we both know the Mage Guard won’t find what I will. I can’t just leave it to chance.”
Barith reached out and grabbed her arm with his wet hand to still her. His touch made a shiver ripple from the spot through her body, a wash of warmth following. “Vi, I’m not tryin’ to rile ye up,” he tried to explain. “It’s just dangerous, and you know it.”
She bristled. Levian hated people worrying over her, even if the logical part of her brain knew he wasn’t wholly wrong. Usually, she would’ve done this kind of work with Barith and Sirus—not alone. “I’ve not much choice,” she clipped. “Until I know what these thieves are really up to and can provide Council with concrete evidence, I’m better off on my own.”
Barith pulled his hand away and leaned back in the tub. She knew he understood what she meant, even if he didn’t like it or agree. “Still not gettin’ along with Council, then?” Barith asked.
She laughed bitterly. “I may be an Ambassador, but that doesn’t mean they’ve suddenly forgotten the last several hundred years of bad blood between us,” she retorted. “Not that I would forget either.”
Barith smiled, and her heart fluttered in response. The dragon’s smile could make even the most cantankerous creatures swoon. It irritated her that his smile still had that effect on her after all these years. “Not that ye’d ever forget,” he teased.
Levian splashed water at his face.
The dragon wiped the water from his eyes with a chuckle. “That’s not very Ambassador-like behavior,” he mused. “You could start a war between the Mages and the Sun Dragons with that kind of recklessness.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she retorted, holding back a smile. “And now that we’ve talked loads about me. How are you fairing now that you’ve returned to the horde?”
Barith felt suddenly nauseous.
He’d always known he’d be mated one day, but Barith had always hoped to find his true mate before his mother could choose for him. He’d not been so lucky.
Arranged matings were common practice in dragon hordes. His mother, Queen Eithne, had spent decades working toward uniting their horde with another powerful dragon family. His mating with Sera was simply the icing on the cake to complete the political alliance, nothing more. When done, it would make their collective horde hundreds strong, the largest of all dragons, and a mighty force in changing times amongst the Folk, or so his mother was convinced.
“I’ve just been paraded around by my mum like a show horse for months,” he admitted. “When I heard you were missin’, I may have overreacted a wee bit.”
“A wee bit?” Levian scoffed.
He felt a tinge of guilt. “I know ye’re not helpless,” he told her. “But we both know ye can be headstrong when ye wish to be, and Gwen really was worried about you.”
Levian downed what remained of her wine. “I already called her,” she told him. “Gwen was relieved to know I was okay and surprised you had come all this way.”
He laughed sheepishly. “As I said, I might’ve overreacted a wee bit.”
With a roll of her eyes, the mage turned to refill her glass, gliding across the floor, and he watched her every step. Barith had always considered Levian one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. Not that he’d ever told her. Not that she needed telling. Levian knew she was lovely and walked with an air that said as much. Her long neck and slim half-fae features suited her well.
Barith was happy and relieved to see her hale after many months apart. He’d felt more at ease with the mage in these last few moments, listening to her tales of her masked thieves, than he had in months back home.
“I take it you’ve not been delighting in the company of all your wonderful sisters back home?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
He grunted. “They’re like a nest of cuddly vipers, the lot of ‘em,” he said, half in humor and half serious.
Levian smiled over her shoulder at him, understating him perfectly, and his heart lightened. “I’m sure they’re thrilled that you’re off gallivanting instead of handling your duties back home,” she said.
Barith rubbed some hot water through his hair and down his face. “They’re all full of vinegar either way. I’m used to it,” he admitted. He could have sworn he’d caught Levian’s gaze lingering over his chest for a second before she blinked and glided back toward the tub.
“I’m surprised your mother let you leave,” she confessed, leaning against a wood column, one of her long legs peeking through the slit in her robe. Barith fought a natural compulsion to linger his own gaze over her smooth, dark caramel skin.
“I’m a grown man,” he declared, puffing himself up, trying to keep his focus off her leg. “She cannae keep me locked away.”
Levian cocked a brow of amused disbelief. “How long are you allowed to be gone?” she asked.
He bristled, then mumbled, “A few weeks.”
Levian laughed. “And how long have you already been gone?”
“Four days,” he mumbled even lower.
“It took you that long to find me?” she said before tutting with a taunting smile.
Barith didn’t like that her witty little smile made something in his stomach tense or that the words that came out of him next seemed to pop out all their own. “Let me help you,” he blurted. The mage’s smile fell away. “Let me stay and help you find your thieves before I’ve to go back,” he elaborated.
There was no denying that things were changing for both of them. Levian was working with the Council of Mages now, and soon, Barith would be mated and would need to take on more responsibility within the newly expanded horde. Things were going to change between them. It was inevitable, and they were both intelligent enough to recognize it even if they didn’t want to discuss it.
Levian stared at him in disbelief but didn’t immediately tell him off either. It took her a good 30 seconds. “No,” she declared. “You should go home, Barith. Where you belong.”
The words stung. Barith looked at her, his oldest friend, but the words he wanted to say got caught in his throat. For much of his life, he hadn’t felt like he belonged much of anywhere, but he’d always felt like he belonged next to Levian. They were outcasts together, and all he wanted was one last adventure with his oldest friend—like old times. “I can help you,” she told her. “And ye know it.”
“I have work to do, and you have a duty to your family,” Levian doubled down. “You can’t just run away from your responsibilities.”
His body flushed with fire and anger. “I’m not runnin’ away,” he growled, standing up suddenly, sending a wave of water hurling into the floor. Levian’s gaze darted away from him, and she crossed her arms defiantly over her chest.
Barith grunted at himself for his outburst. “It’s just a lot of pressure, that’s all,” he admitted. “My mum and sisters have been?—”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Levian said, cutting him off.
Barith stepped out of the bath, wrapping a towel around his waist. He doubted she could imagine. Levian had her own strange family dynamics, including an infamous father locked up for eternity deep beneath a frozen ocean in a fae prison. Still, the mage didn’t have the same weight of duty and honor baring down upon her head. “Let me help,” he tried again.
Levian let out a deep sigh, dropping her wee shoulders before she began fiddling with one of her many necklaces, clearly mulling it over. Even after soaking in the bath, Barith could still smell the soft scent of her night jasmine perfume. He’d come to the Dragon’s Delight to clear the air between them, but now that the prospect of helping her track her thieves was in his head, Barith was determined. The mage wasn’t the only one who could be stubborn or clever.
“How about a bet then?” he posed instead, hoping she would take the bait.
She perked up at that. Levian had a hard time turning down a bet. Especially one from him. “A bet?” she repeated, intrigued. “What kind of bet?”
Barith smirked. “You let me help you find the thieves, and if I do, you get Beatrice.”
Levian’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t,” she said with disbelief.
“I would,” he confirmed with a tight nod.
She stared at him, torn. Barith knew the mage couldn’t resist the chance to win back that silly egg. It had been gifted to her when she was a girl. It was gaudy, incrusted with gold and gems, but Levian loved it. And then she’d lost it to him in a drunken bet and had never managed to win it back after all these years. He had no clue why she’d named it Beatrice.
“Fine,” she agreed reluctantly, throwing her hands up in the air in dramatic Levian fashion. She stalked over to him and pointed a shimmering painted nail into his chest. “You can help me hunt down the thieves, but only until your two weeks are up,” she made clear. “I don’t want the whole of your Sun Dragon horde breathing fire down my neck, and I surely don’t want to deal with any of your sisters.”
Barith’s heart swelled, and he smiled at her. Levian scowled. “Don’t look at me like that,” she hissed.
His grin widened. “Admit it—you want me to stay.”
“I want Beatrice back,” she retorted, plucking a stray petal from the bath out of his chest hair. “Don’t get a big head about it.”
Her voice was oddly husky, and Barith’s skin tingled where her fingers had brushed over his chest. There was a beat of silence that lingered, and a sudden urge pulsed through him to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. His fingers twitched just as Carvatticus cracked open the door. Levian immediately stepped back from him, and Barith cleared his throat. He had to have imagined the look of desire in Levian’s eyes. He’d caught her admiring his physique from time to time over the years, but never with any real lust.
The daemon sauntered forward, stretching his arms wide, not picking up on any strange tension. “I presume all is well and resolved,” he purred, looking thoroughly at ease and oiled after his massage. “How about a night of fun before I leave for Obsidian in the morning, hmm?”
“You’re leaving?” Barith asked.
Car flashed a wicked smile. “Going to miss me?”
Barith grunted, and Car’s smile widened. He leaned over and kissed Levian’s temple, a gesture that made Barith’s skin burn with jealousy.
“A friend of Levian’s is a friend of mine,” Car said. “You’re welcome in Obsidian anytime.”
Barith grunted again.
Levian slid away from Car and glided toward the door. “I’m going for a massage,” she declared. “So please deal with whatever this is.” She smirked, throwing Car’s earlier words back at him before disappearing into the hall.
Car chuckled. “She is something, isn’t she?” he sighed.
“Aye,” Barith agreed. “That she is.”
“You’ll stay with her for a while?” Car asked, his voice suddenly serious.
Barith looked at the daemon and replied, “Aye. I’ll help her track the thieves.”
Car let out a breath through his nose, and his shoulders visibly relaxed even more. “Good. I was worried I’d have to hire someone to tail her. She’s capable, but even Levian shouldn’t be doing this alone.”
Barith eyed Car. He still didn’t care for the daemon but appreciated that Car seemed truly worried about Levian’s safety just as much as he did.
“I’ll watch over her,” he made clear.
Car smirked, then clapped Barith on the shoulder. “I expect you will, my fiery friend.” The daemon’s gaze held on his, and there was no mistaking the earnestness in Car’s expression or tone when he added, “You always have.”
Barith was flattered, not that he would admit it to Car. “Aye,” he replied, eyeing where the daemon’s hand lingered on his shoulder.
Car pulled it away and rubbed one of his curled horns. “I don’t suppose she’s told you her plan for the orb?” he asked.
“No,” Barith grumbled with irritation. He’d asked, but she hadn’t yet told him what she planned to do with it.
The daemon made a face, expressing that he wasn’t surprised to hear it. “I’ve got aged scotch in the other room,” he told Barith. “Come have a drink, and I’ll tell you everything I know about all this thief business.”
At this point, Barith felt he probably knew more than Car, but let it be. “Ye know she’s gonna be pissed when she finds out you told me,” Barith said.
Car laughed, leading the way out. “I’ll survive her ire,” he replied. “Besides, she’s the one that wants us to make nice and get along, and she didn’t say I couldn’t tell you.”
Barith smirked, following Car, feeling lighter than he had in ages. “Aye, that she didnae,” he agreed. “I suppose a few drinks couldn’t hurt.”