Wicked Hunt

Chapter Sixteen, Part II

He shifted in his own seat and cleared his throat. Although persuasion was not his strong suit, he could work with anger and rage. He sought to glean at least one new thing from the wasted trip. "Your uncle is one of the most powerful lords in the west. Something important must have called him away."

"They all three went," Ursula snapped bitterly. "Even though I'm the better conjurer, he still took Ronan instead of me." She looked away sharply, knowing she had said too much.

"Sounds like a shitty deal," Rafe remarked. Keep her angry. "Although, if it was some important matter, then it sounds like all the right people went. He's left you here, to handle the meager dealings." For a second, he thought he'd pushed too hard. Ursula stared blankly at the far wall, her eyes blinking slowly. Then, she exploded.

Her fist slammed down onto the table. "If I wasn't in this damn chair, I would have been able to go with them, but ever since Ellendar they treat me like a child!"

Rafe sat back and enjoyed the show. "Oh?" he prompted. "I thought that island was a myth."

"You're good, I'll give you that," Ursula mused, seeming to realize she'd been about to reveal too much. Her fingers dug into the chair's arm. "Despite my anger, I never forget whose side I'm on."

"There are no sides," Rafe pressed. "We are at peace."

"Then why does Clive need you?" Ursula asked purposely. Rafe scoffed at the blow. "Commander Walsh," she continued, "the king's dog." The conversation had been skillfully shifted. Now, instead of Denizen being at the center of it, Ursula maneuvered Rafe himself to the forefront.

"I may be a dog," he said evenly, "but at least I'm one with four legs. At least I know what I am and what my purpose is." Fire blazed behind Ursula's amber eyes.

"You bastard," she hissed.

"Five Fingers," he tried again, leaning over the table. "Tell me where he is, and I'll leave."

"I heard about your feud with the man," Ursula said, ignoring his demands; swatting them away like they were some flippant gnat. An annoyance to the bigger point she was trying to prove. "All the way from Carez."

"Then you know how eager I am to find him." Rafe's hand clenched into a fist.

"Why?"

"To call him out on his bullshit."

"You think what's happening here is bullshit?" Ursula relaxed. She had gained the upper hand once more. "These sightings, these encounters... they all mean something." She bit her lip. Her forehead wrinkled and if she had had brows, they would have been raised. "The Black Stag-"

"I'm hardly in the mood for ghost stories," Rafe snapped, and Ursula clamped her mouth shut.

Easy, he told himself. You were just getting her to talk.

"Ghost stories?" she mocked. "You're all fools."

"I'm tired of the games." Rafe stepped around the table, using his height to his advantage and towering over Ursula threateningly. He placed his hand on the back of her chair next to her head and peered down at her. She tried to appear calm, but he saw her pupils dilate. They darted around anxiously.

"Threatening me in my own house?" she whispered.

"There's been no threats," Rafe replied dryly. "None yet."

"The inn down on Black Hollow," she mumbled, swallowing. "He's been staying there." He released the chair.

"There we are," he said, patting her shoulder, relishing in her fear. How easy it was to draw information from someone when they were scared. "That wasn't so hard." While he stepped back toward his seat and his back was to her, she found the strength to spit a reply.

"You'll get what's coming to you, Commander Walsh! Mark my words..."