"I want people who don't freeze when something crawls out of the dark and starts casting spells that rewrite anatomy," Lindarion replied.
That drew a short, low noise from someone in the back. A chuckle. Maybe respect.
The red-haired merc tilted his head. "You're serious."
"Yes."
"You look like a kid."
"I kill like someone who isn't."
A pause.
Then the merc grinned. It wasn't pleasant. "Fine. Say we follow. What's the job?"
Lindarion answered clearly. "The ones who hit Evernight. The ones who took me. I'm not waiting for them to try again."
A few heads turned now. Quiet muttering. One woman leaned forward, her fingers drumming the table in thought. Another merc with knives along his ribs, literally sewn into his coat, just watched.
Red-hair nodded once.
Then jerked his thumb toward the table. "Pull up a seat, Prince. Let's hear your offer."
Lindarion didn't sit.
Not yet.
He just said, "You get paid in gold. And answers. And if we're lucky—revenge."
—
