Chapter 10

I wasn't sure why I told Ziola that I had been Halder's apprentice. It wasn't a secret in the guild—obviously, the older members who'd been around at the time knew—but no one spoke of it. Killing in battle, in a barroom brawl, or even when unavoidable on a heist, was one thing, but murder for hire was something else entirely. Especially by poison. The guild didn't like admitting it had ever been closely associated with someone like that.

I was no temple acolyte, but I'd struggled for a long time with the fact that I had liked and admired Halder before learning about the source of his extra income. If nothing else, it showed that I had been a poor judge of character. I should hate him. But I didn't, and I was afraid to think what that said about me.

Gazing down, I could see the shock reflected in Ziola's wide green eyes and parted lips. Was that disappointment, disgust, or something else? I shouldn't have cared, but for some reason, I didn't like the way she now looked at me. As if I'd suddenly sprouted horns and a forked tongue. Like many guild members, she was undoubtedly wondering what exactly Halder had taught me.

Shoving those feelings aside, I gritted my teeth and took hold of her arm. "C'mon. We haven't got all night."

I towed Ziola along as I strode rapidly down a narrow lane toward Third Street. Part of me wouldn't have been surprised if she'd ripped out of my grip and raced back to the guild to demand a different partner. I couldn't say I'd have blamed her.

I glanced at her again and slowed when I realized she was trotting to keep up. She had enough spunk that it was easy to forget just how small she really was. The top of her head barely reached my nose, and I wasn't tall like Alix or Ralph. She was cute and pocket-sized, although she probably would have scratched my eyes out if I'd actually said it.

When we came to the chandler's shop, I ducked into a shadowy alcove and stopped.

"According to Drex, Thorn Wylder is right around here. Do you see it?" I asked.

She poked her head out and we both looked up and down the street.

"There it is." She pointed to a three-story brick building with a slate roof a few doors from where we stood. Two large windows flanked a sturdy oak front door with a brass knocker and knob. The curtains were drawn, but it appeared dark inside.

"You'll be OK here by yourself to watch the building?"

Ziola gave me a scathing look, and I winced, realizing how condescending that sounded. If she'd been a man, I'd never have asked.

"Right," I said. "Leave a message at the guildhall if you learn anything and I'll do the same. We can regroup then."

I was about to leave when I heard boot steps echoing on the cobblestones. I palmed a knife, turned toward the sound, and stepped in front of Ziola. She hissed and jabbed me in the kidney with an elbow before sliding next to me.

"I thought we established you are unarmed," I snapped.

"That doesn't mean I'm helpless."

I gave up. If she got herself killed, that was her problem, not mine. A figure emerged from the shadows, and light from the gas lamp gleamed on silvery hair. Keillan strode toward us, hands in pockets and posture relaxed.

"Why are you following us?" I asked. I scanned the surroundings and didn't sense anyone with him, but that meant little.

"Wasn't following you; I was following her."

Ziola's sharp intake of breath cut the still night air. I drew a second knife and widened my stance, crouching slightly. "And why would that be?"

He raised both hands and held them palms out. "I just wanted to thank her."

"What?" I was at a complete loss until I remembered Keillan's expression when he saw her in the tavern. She hadn't said anything about knowing him and I hadn't asked. I'd been distracted by other things.

"Are you her man?" Keillan asked.

Ziola laughed, pushed down my arm, and walked forward. "Hardly."

I was a little insulted by how quickly and disdainfully she said that.

"He's a colleague, just like Emil in the cell," she said. "And Emil's the one you should thank. If you recall, I was ready to leave you there." Ziola smiled and a small dimple appeared in one cheek. It was an adorable dimple, and it occurred to me I'd never seen it before. Not that I'd given her many reasons to smile.

Keillan's eyes were bright as he leaned forward and held her gaze. "Since you thought I was a rapist, I suppose that's understandable." He flashed her a quick grin.

Ziola's cheeks grew pink, and a little giggle escaped. My mouth dropped open, and I stared at her, dumbstruck. I couldn't imagine such a girlish sound coming from her mouth. She really must have a thing for silver and gray hair: first Lorget and now Keillan. I hooked my own hair behind my ears—perhaps brown hair made her surly and unpleasant. Or maybe she simply knew the ingenue act wouldn't work on me.

Not that it mattered. I liked my women soft and welcoming, not lean and challenging. And even if she had fit the bill, a fling with another guild member was an impossible work complication. I never let any relationship extend past the initial lust stage—life was much safer that way. As long as Ziola didn't stick a knife in my back, I didn't care who she played her games with. In fact, Keillan was a decided improvement over Lorget because Keillan held no sway in the guild.

"Can we save the reunion for another time? We have work to do." I stared at Ziola pointedly.

"I apologize for interrupting," Keillan said. "Perhaps I can buy you a drink one evening, Miss…"

"Ziola. My name is Ziola. And a drink sometime would be nice." Much to my disgust, the dimple made another appearance.

"You can leave a message for me at the Salty Anchor whenever you are free," Keillan said. "Until later, then." He bowed slightly to Ziola, gave me a shallow nod, and strolled back down the street.

I glowered at his retreating figure before turning back to Ziola. Returning one of my knives to its sheath, I flipped the other and offered the hilt to Ziola. "Take this for tonight. You can't be out here with no protection."

Her eyes darted from the knife to my face. "I'll be fine. You've seen me evade an attack."

"I have, and your skills are impressive. But I'll feel better if you are armed."

She held my gaze for a long moment before reaching out to grasp the knife. As she did, our fingers brushed, and a jolt of electricity shot through me. I stepped back and looked away, not sure what I had felt.

"Thank you," she said.

I nodded, gave her a brief salute, and left.