CHAPTER 63 Everyone and Their Human

CHAPTER 63

Everyone and Their Human

Rufus

I stared at Bronwynn, whose apologetic rosy blush complemented her flame-tipped curls.

She was from a family of Assassins . Not just related to an assassin, no, but to a household which accounted for the registration and care for anyone and everyone in that class on this side of the continent. Servalt was a new kingdom with new leadership that had made a name for itself by creating a hub for merchants to gain power and status, which included a new Assassin’s Guild. But Peldeep was one of the oldest kingdoms on the map, and the families there had been in power for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

So if Bronwynn was the direct niece of Master Derek Stannard … she might as well have been the young noble miss of an esteemed Peldeep household.

I realized I’d told her I had questions then sat there staring at her while I gathered my thoughts.

“How do you feel?” The words came naturally, but I kicked myself when I said them. That wasn’t what I needed to ask. I needed to ask about her family members, if she knew how they’d slipped assassins past Keith’s golems, how to better deal with her uncle, and what exactly she knew about molten ash vane.

I had a job . But I just couldn’t bring myself to care about it at that moment.

“It’s just … an inconvenience.” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “Not my family, of course! I love my family, and they could never be an inconvenience. Especially when they’ve been so supportive and understanding about my own chosen path. No. It’s this blasted increase in molten ash vane that’s thrown everything for a loop.”

I found myself nodding. “It’s not helping.” Especially when no one, except maybe Duke Lector from Servalt, knew who the poisoner was. Even then, it wasn’t certain. The poisoner could have just been adding molten ash vane to all of their orders.

“Everyone and their human is pointing fingers at my family for letting assassins use the stuff, but Assassin is a perfectly respectable trade with a very specific goal. And molten ash vane is an overpowered, if illegal, tool for the task.” Brownie sighed. “There’s more than one way to permadeath someone, and if those hits get approval, then who cares how it’s done?”

“In the meantime”—I clenched my fist—“we’re just going to have to get used to more of the stuff popping up, and changing our international contracts to account for it.”

Slake drowsily swished his tail. The grimalcat was as invested in molten ash vane as anyone, so I was impressed the creature had remained quiet so long.

Unless Slake was actually napping. I wasn’t going to disturb the grimalcat to find out.

The walls of a city appeared in the distance. Usually, I would’ve turned into my furless folk form while traveling in Peldeep, but my secret needed to be kept for just a little while longer. My mood darkened when I thought about the fact that Bronwynn had just shared her secret with me … but I wasn’t going to share my own.

Yet.

Maybe …

Hearthcrest was a city of traditionally older buildings with slanted roofs and rounded doors. The taller buildings were an interesting design with tiny patios at upper floors. Each house had a small, fenced deck, and the cobblestone road turned to brightly colored mosaics as they entered the city gates.

Two guards stood at attention to either side of the entrance.

“Name and purpose?” the city guard on the right asked Bronwynn. She was holding the reins and therefore responsible for answering the questions.

The guard on the left interrupted before she could speak. “You dunderding oaf, that’s Minstrel Bronwynn .”

“What? Really?!” The first guard stuttered, “O-Oh, I’m sorry, Minstrel, please, w-welcome to Hearthcrest!”

“This is Commander General Rufus Triever and—” Bronwynn waved at me and was about to introduce Slake when the cat’s nails clawed into her through her skirt; she took the hint—“a grimalcat. We will be staying for the night then leaving from the western gate tomorrow morning.”

“Of course! Thank you.” The guard’s face paled when she introduced me, but he nodded politely and waved us in.

Behind us, I could hear the guard laughing. “I got to talk to Minstrel Bronwynn! Me! Wait until the others hear about this.’ ’

The more experienced guard reminded him to fill out his report properly.

And I was reminded again that I’d been traveling with the Minstrel Bronwynn this whole time, and we were almost done. I would meet her family, watch her play at the festival … then go back home.

There was a weird gripping sensation in my stomach. It hurt.

This wasn’t the Dark Enchanted Forest. I wasn’t getting drowned in notifications. I wasn’t even that overwhelmed by my [Keen Senses] in this clean, calm, and otherwise normal town. There shouldn’t be any cause for a tummy ache.

I didn’t want to recognize it … but I knew. I was jealous. Of myself and what precious time I had with Bronwynn on this trip. I had a problem.

In the stories, love hit like a [Quick Strike]. It was powerful, gripping and changed people’s lives.

Here I was, sitting in a wagon on an early summer day, happier than I’d been in a decade. Just … happy. The comfort and playfulness. The laughter and music. Happy and very much in love.

There was no earthshaking realization—I’d always liked Bronwynn. From the first time I’d heard her sing and every conversation until this moment. It had grown slowly to be what she called friends … but maybe I wanted more?

That was it. Where I was beginning to feel a visceral rejection and need .

I shouldn’t have let myself worry about the ending , when I would go back to my life in the Black Fortress and only see Bronwynn when she stopped in on her way between gigs.

I didn’t want to let her go.

That was when I felt her hand on my arm.

A rising frustration left me trying to tear my mind away from the sinking feeling in my gut and go back to what precious time I had left in Bronwynn’s company.

She and Donna had been figuring out a place to stay that was far from Earl Oakley’s chosen inn … while I tried to think of a solution. I wasn’t ready to let go … but I also wasn’t ready to propose marriage on the spot as my king had advised.

“Rufus? Are you alright?”

Her voice drew me out of my frustrated circular thoughts. What was next? The Apple Blossom Festival. Then the Hollow. And then …

“Bronwynn,” I said. Her name felt wonderful on my lips, and I wanted to say it again. So I did. “Bronwynn, would you like to go to the Summer Masquerade with me?”