“If you want, we could still go to Edlan. Play it safe,” said Flick.
She rubbed the back of her neck. Flick’s offer was generous, but he didn’t really want to leave Forge. None of them did—Forge was all they’d ever known. “I don’t know. Mayhap if I can earn Malikel’s trust, he won’t think me a threat to the city when he finally finds out.”
Flick gave a noncommittal shrug. “I didn’t wake you up just to get you out of that nightmare. Tristam’s waiting for you outside.”
“Tristam?” It was only then that Kyra noticed the angle of light coming in the room’s small window. She’d slept past noon. “We’re to report to duty today. I’ve found a member of the Assassins Guild.” She threw a tunic over the shift and trousers she’d slept in, splashed her face at the washbasin by the door, then grabbed a hairbrush and tugged at her hair until she could tie it back with a leather thong. She tried a few times to smooth down the wrinkles in her tunic, but they just popped back up.
Flick tipped backward in his chair, eyeing her with amusement. “Why don’t you go to such efforts to look presentable for us?”
Kyra gave up on the wrinkles. “All right if I let him in?”
“Fine by me. My hair’s been combed all morning.”
The door to their quarters opened into a plain wooden corridor that ended in a narrow staircase. When Kyra came out, she found Tristam at the top of the stairs, his tall form bent slightly as he peered over the low railing. She walked quietly up behind him and placed a hand on his back.
“Looking at anything interesting?”
His muscles tensed under her hand, and he whipped around, reaching for the dagger at his waist. But then his eyes landed on her, and his face relaxed into an embarrassed smile.
A warmth spread around her ribs as she looked up at him and returned his grin. He must have just washed this morning, because she could smell the soap on him, layered over the familiar scent of his skin.
“Latrine duty for you,” she admonished. It was an old joke between them, a remark he’d made the first time she’d snuck up on him. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Late night?” asked Tristam. He straightened to his full height, and Kyra craned her neck to keep eye contact.
“Aye.” She was thankful when Tristam didn’t ask where she’d been. He was dressed in Palace livery—not that of a knight, Kyra noticed again with a pang, but the plainer tunic of a Red Shield, with an embroidered F on the left breast, over plain black breeches. He’d been stripped of his knighthood for a year because he’d rescued Kyra from the Demon Riders against direct orders from the Council. While Tristam had never complained about his punishment, Kyra couldn’t help wondering if he regretted his decision. Though she noticed he wore this livery well. He held himself like a soldier, and his movements were precise and confident.
They returned to the room. Flick gave Tristam a sideways glance then and grunted a half greeting, not bothering to take his feet off the table. Flick was the illegitimate son of a minor nobleman and had decided long ago that wallhuggers could not be trusted. Kyra glared at him, but he’d already turned his attention back to his breakfast.
“Let me fetch my daggers,” said Kyra. “And then I’ll be ready to go.”
She’d picked up the one on her bed and was rummaging through her chest for others when the door opened and Lettie stepped in, followed by Idalee carrying a basket of bread. The two sisters were bundled against the cold with matching wool dresses, scarves wrapped around their hair, and warm boots. Months of shelter and good food seemed to be paying off. Lettie now stood as high as Kyra’s waist, and Idalee’s dress was stretching tight around her chest and hips. The girl hadn’t even started her monthly blood and she already had more curves than Kyra. They’d have to get her cloth to make a new dress soon.
Both girls stopped short when they saw Tristam.