Read Online King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) by Jordan Rivet - Free Book Online
Authors: Jordan Rivet
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the crowds. And Siv waving a black silk banner with her name on it. She forced herself to take another sip of ale.
“What do you think of the king?” she asked.
“Think of him?” Telvin said, forehead furrowing. “He’s the king.”
“Yes, but what’s your opinion of the man himself now that you work for him?”
“I was recruited from the army.” Telvin snapped to attention in his chair. “I am loyal to the crown.”
“This isn’t a test,” Dara said. “I’m just curious.”
Telvin’s shoulders relaxed a little. He studied his tankard, scratching a thick finger along the carving at its base.
“The king is young,” he said. “I don’t reckon he’s proved himself yet, but then he hasn’t had a chance either.”
“That’s true,” Dara said. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Twenty-two. Not much older than the king himself, to be fair. Another drink?”
Dara blinked, surprised she had already finished her ale. Somehow it didn’t taste any better at the bottom. But she thought of that romantic table setting in the sunset-drenched parlor and accepted a second one.
“These were on the house,” Telvin said when he returned with the foaming tankards. “The tavern keeper wanted to know if you’re really Nightfall. I was damn proud to say I’m having dinner with one of the most popular lady duelists in Vertigon.”
“That’s not me anymore,” Dara said.
“I was proud anyway.” Telvin took a long sip of the complimentary ale, looking at her thoughtfully. “So what do you think of the king?” he asked.
“He’s a good man,” Dara said. “He’ll prove himself.”
“I hope so. Vertigon deserves a good king.”
By the time they finished their meals and their third round of drinks—Dara switched to water for herself when she went to fetch the round—it was past the eleventh hour. She’d have to run to meet Berg on time.
“What do you say we cross to the pubs on Square?” Telvin said. His face was a little red, and he had relaxed considerably. “Tomorrow’s my day off, and I reckon a few other barkeeps would love to treat you.”
“I have to take care of a few things,” Dara said. “Thanks, though.”
She stood, wavering a bit from the drinks, and dug her fingernails into the wooden tabletop to steady herself. The Firebulb hanging above the table swayed, right at eye level. The tavern door was closed, and there was no draft. It was as if Dara was pulling the Fire in the bulb toward her. It seemed to grow larger before her eyes. Her skin hummed with warmth.
“Did you forget something?” Telvin asked, coming around the table to stand beside her.
The Firebulb swung forward. Dara focused on calming her body, keeping the rush of the drink in her blood from loosening her control. She almost never drank, and it seemed to affect her connection to the Fire. She’d have to remember that.
“No, I’m fine.” She pulled her gaze away from the glowing bulb and turned to Telvin. “Shall we?” She strode deliberately to the door as the Firebulb swayed, finally slowing to a stop behind her.
Outside, Dara breathed deeply, allowing the damp breeze to clear her head.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come for another drink?” Telvin asked, stepping closer to her in the darkened street. “Didn’t you say you’re going to Square anyway?”
“Maybe next time,” Dara said. “I’ll see you back at the barracks.”
Telvin looked like he wanted to protest, but instead he bowed over her hand and said, “Good night, Dara.”
She gave a quick nod, hoping to discourage a longer farewell, and strode away. He would likely take Stork Bridge over to Square. She’d have to make a detour over Garden Bridge so he wouldn’t see where she was heading. She still wasn’t ready to trust Telvin Jale yet, however nice he seemed.
Dara jogged all the way to Berg’s dueling school on Square Peak. Mist oozed around the bridges. The night was eerie, with the sharpness
“What do you think of the king?” she asked.
“Think of him?” Telvin said, forehead furrowing. “He’s the king.”
“Yes, but what’s your opinion of the man himself now that you work for him?”
“I was recruited from the army.” Telvin snapped to attention in his chair. “I am loyal to the crown.”
“This isn’t a test,” Dara said. “I’m just curious.”
Telvin’s shoulders relaxed a little. He studied his tankard, scratching a thick finger along the carving at its base.
“The king is young,” he said. “I don’t reckon he’s proved himself yet, but then he hasn’t had a chance either.”
“That’s true,” Dara said. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Twenty-two. Not much older than the king himself, to be fair. Another drink?”
Dara blinked, surprised she had already finished her ale. Somehow it didn’t taste any better at the bottom. But she thought of that romantic table setting in the sunset-drenched parlor and accepted a second one.
“These were on the house,” Telvin said when he returned with the foaming tankards. “The tavern keeper wanted to know if you’re really Nightfall. I was damn proud to say I’m having dinner with one of the most popular lady duelists in Vertigon.”
“That’s not me anymore,” Dara said.
“I was proud anyway.” Telvin took a long sip of the complimentary ale, looking at her thoughtfully. “So what do you think of the king?” he asked.
“He’s a good man,” Dara said. “He’ll prove himself.”
“I hope so. Vertigon deserves a good king.”
By the time they finished their meals and their third round of drinks—Dara switched to water for herself when she went to fetch the round—it was past the eleventh hour. She’d have to run to meet Berg on time.
“What do you say we cross to the pubs on Square?” Telvin said. His face was a little red, and he had relaxed considerably. “Tomorrow’s my day off, and I reckon a few other barkeeps would love to treat you.”
“I have to take care of a few things,” Dara said. “Thanks, though.”
She stood, wavering a bit from the drinks, and dug her fingernails into the wooden tabletop to steady herself. The Firebulb hanging above the table swayed, right at eye level. The tavern door was closed, and there was no draft. It was as if Dara was pulling the Fire in the bulb toward her. It seemed to grow larger before her eyes. Her skin hummed with warmth.
“Did you forget something?” Telvin asked, coming around the table to stand beside her.
The Firebulb swung forward. Dara focused on calming her body, keeping the rush of the drink in her blood from loosening her control. She almost never drank, and it seemed to affect her connection to the Fire. She’d have to remember that.
“No, I’m fine.” She pulled her gaze away from the glowing bulb and turned to Telvin. “Shall we?” She strode deliberately to the door as the Firebulb swayed, finally slowing to a stop behind her.
Outside, Dara breathed deeply, allowing the damp breeze to clear her head.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come for another drink?” Telvin asked, stepping closer to her in the darkened street. “Didn’t you say you’re going to Square anyway?”
“Maybe next time,” Dara said. “I’ll see you back at the barracks.”
Telvin looked like he wanted to protest, but instead he bowed over her hand and said, “Good night, Dara.”
She gave a quick nod, hoping to discourage a longer farewell, and strode away. He would likely take Stork Bridge over to Square. She’d have to make a detour over Garden Bridge so he wouldn’t see where she was heading. She still wasn’t ready to trust Telvin Jale yet, however nice he seemed.
Dara jogged all the way to Berg’s dueling school on Square Peak. Mist oozed around the bridges. The night was eerie, with the sharpness
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