Midnight Moon (The Bleeding Crown Book 1)

Chapter 9 - Conspiracy

Jate sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He kept his gaze carefully trained on the tankard he held, though he longed to spin around every time he heard the tavern door open.

He sipped his drink infrequently, but even this watered-down ale would go to his head if he had to wait here much longer. It was difficult to keep from bouncing his knee in anticipation, and an effort not to run through the streets after his quarry. But discretion had been his order, and discretion would be his law.

After what felt like an eternity, the innkeeper sidled over as another patron entered the building. "That's the man you're looking for," she murmured, leaning towards him under the guise of stowing a tankard below the bar.

Jate twisted slowly on his stool, getting a glimpse of a balding man sliding into a booth and waving over a bartender. For his age, he was large and sturdy, though the mass was no longer all muscle. Even in this town several days' ride from Beyall, he still wore the ring marking his service in the royal household. Jate wondered if the sight of it filled the man with guilt, or if he hoped it would shield him from suspicion.

According to Arenyll, this man was the only servant to leave the palace the day Veanna disappeared. His trip home was planned well in advance, yet it was the only event out of the household routine.

Jate rose slowly, slipping a coin from his pocket and sliding it covertly to the innkeeper before strolling towards the servant, drink in hand. Ancestors help him, if this didn't lead somewhere he didn't know what else to try.

"Admer Timik?" he asked, settling into the booth across from the man.

Admer glanced around as though expecting more soldiers. "Yes," he murmured, his voice deep and uncertain.

"I'm Jate." He extended a hand.

Admer grasped his forearm and shook, then retracted quickly. His eyes widened as they settled on the four-pointed star pinned onto Jate's dark green uniform. He licked his lips. "You're a Captain?"

"I am," Jate replied easily, shifting his sword on his belt as he sat back in the seat. Admer's eyes flickered to the motion, but were drawn away instantly as Jate picked up his drink with the other hand. "But I'm not on duty, don't worry."

A bartender appeared beside Admer, sliding a tankard to him. He jumped and gave her a sheepish smile, and as he dug through his coin purse he glanced covertly towards Jate.

"You're not going to arrest me, then?" he joked once she walked away, but the laugh in his voice was belied by the twitch in his eye. If Jate hadn't been suspicious before, he was certain the servant hid something now.

He smiled too, leaning on the table. Ancestors, I hope this gamble pays off. "Not as long as you tell me what happened to the Princess."

Admer watched as Jate took hold of his ale again, several heartbeats passing before his words registered. The man twitched and made to rise, but froze barely out of his seat.

"I'd rather you stayed here," Jate said quietly. He pressed the tip of his sword against the man's foot, and saw the colour drain from his face. With Admer preoccupied by Jate's words and movements above the table, he had managed to unsheath his weapon unnoticed. "If you stand up, or try anything against me, I'll push my sword all the way through your foot. Understood?"

Admer nodded fervently, breaking out in a cold sweat as Jate took a long drink.

He set his tankard down, and the other man's eyes darted to the movement again. "Now, I need you to tell me everything that happened on the last day you were in the palace."

Admer swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I don't know what -"

Jate leaned farther forward, feeling the leather of the servant's shoe straining against his blade. "I think you do. Answer me before your foot gets sliced in two." He hoped he didn't have to make good on his threat; he didn't fancy crippling a man, but he wasn't about to sacrifice any information that could lead him to Veanna.