Page 74 of The Dead Queen
“Wonderful!” The man claps his hands and rubs them together. “I don’t either.”
We stare at the man for a long moment, waiting for him to step aside, but he doesn’t.
Tristan clears his throat. “Move.”
Hunter shoots him a disapproving glare. Hunter has never been one for rudeness.
The man continues smiling pleasantly. “I don’t think so.”
Tristan sighs, leaning forward on his horse. “We have places to go. Tell us what you want and let’s get this over with.”
“Ah,” the man says, his smile brightening. “I’m glad you asked.”
On either side of the road, several more men step out from behind trees and bushes. They’re all dressed in the threadbare clothes of farmers and peasants. They carry pitchforks, kitchen knives, and shovels. One even has a large stick.
Hunter groans. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but we are,” the pleasant man says. “But don’t worry, no one need get hurt.” He looks pointedly at me. My hackles raise at the insinuation that I need protecting.
“Just hand over your coins and that spectacular pair of gauntlets. Then we’ll permit you safe passage.”
“How generous of you,” Tristan says flatly.
The man points toward me. “And we’ll take that fine red cloak too, if you don’t mind.”
I shoot him my most venomous glare. “I do mind.”
“You seem to have plenty of blankets in your packs. You won’t be chilly for long.”
“No.”
Hunter interjects. “How did you know where to find us? Or do you harass everyone on this road?”
The man chuckles. “The boarding man sends you his thanks.”
Hunter’s eyes grow wide. “That scoundrel! We paid for his silence.”
The man nods as if he understands our predicament. “A pretty penny too, I’d wager.”
Tristan shakes his head. “And his ale was halfway decent too.”
The man raises an eyebrow. “Then you’ve been drinking some real shit ale, my friend.”
Tristan shrugs, agreeing.
“We’re not giving you anything,” Hunter says, sitting tall in our saddle. “I am a member of the King’s Guard, and I demand you let us through.”
All around us, the local men shoot each other nervous glances, but the smiling man is not perturbed. “And here I assumed you were a common thief.”
“Like you?” Tristan asks, but the man ignores the comment.
He purses his lips, thinking. “If you’re a member of the King’s Guard, then where is the rest of your famous copper armor?”
Hunter shoots Tristan a murderous glare. “That is irrelevant.”
The smiling man just shrugs and gestures toward my cloak. “No matter. We’ll take our payment now.”
I bristle. “Over my dead body.”
