The light blue liquid flows down my throat like nectar, leaving a sweet bun behind. I blink, unable to believe what I just swallowed. "This isn't... something forbidden, is it?" I ask wiping the corner of my lips.
Leonhart, lounging beside me, chuckles darkly, "Everything in this godforsaken place is forbidden, love,"
Apparently, forbidden fruits are surreally hard to let go.
"Another one?" I raise a finger to the bartender, who nods with a pleasant smile.
"I'm not paying though" Leonhart mutters under his breath as he's still watching the room with that calculating gaze of him. "I don't see Becca," He says casually eyes scanning the crowded bar.
The bartender doesn't miss a beat, pouring two liquids into a shaker. "Oh, you don't—and you won't," he says, sliding my drink across the counter. "Here, miss, enjoy."
"Thank you," I say, savoring the next sip through the straw.
"Becca's up there," the bartender adds offhandedly, jerking his chin toward the upper levels. "Under the bridge... missing an arm."
I choke mid-sip, coughing violently as the liquid goes down the wrong way. "Oh, new to town, huh?" the bartender asks, wiping down the counter.
"Not going to be for long," Leonhart quips, giving my back a couple of too-hard pats. I shove his hand away, glaring at him. If looks could kill, his grin would have been buried six feet under.
I lean in, whispering harshly, "You killed a woman?"
Leonhart shrugs nonchalantly, still scanning the room like we're discussing the weather. "Just because they don't have balls doesn't mean they can't be trouble. Look at yourself."
I bite back a retort, draining the rest of my drink, hoping it'll drown the disgust bubbling up inside me. "Gods, I can't believe I came with you."
"Neither can I," he says with that insufferable grin. "But hey, we've got chemistry."
"Chemistry?" I hiss. "No, just the misery of mine."
"Maybe he'll forgive me seeing his long-lost niece," He says and I have no words about making sense of everything he has done so far.
Before I can spit out another insult, the heavy wooden door crashes open with a resounding thud. The air in the bar shifts as if someone turned off the sound. All eyes snap to the entrance.
A scuffle erupts, and a man is thrown into the bar, his body skidding across the floor. Grey-clad guards march in, their cloaks conspicuously missing. Without their imperial cloaks, they're just thugs with fancy swords.
I watch as one of the guards pins a wiry man to the wall. The man spits curses, thrashing as they raise a cudgel. My breath catches—this is about to get bloody.
"Enough," a low, steady voice cuts through the chaos. It's like a knife slicing through the noise. The room stills.
A giant of a man steps forward, broad-shouldered with a heavy leather coat draped over him like a war banner. His boots thud against the floorboards, and just his presence makes the guards hesitate. His eyes are dark and sharp like they could cut through bone.
The giant moves with an almost lazy grace, positioning himself between the guards and the man crumpled on the floor. "Let him go," he orders. The guards exchange wary glances before reluctantly obeying. The captive collapses, gasping for breath.
"That's..." I start to whisper, but Leonhart just raises a brow at me, still grinning like he's in on a joke no one else knows. My stomach twists.
"On your feet," the giant says to the fallen man, extending a hand to help him up. "Now, what's this about, gentlemen?"
"Hellion's shipment got hit," one guard mutters, trying to salvage his bravado.
"Hellion's problems are not mine," the giant replies, calm yet unyielding. "This bar's under my roof. I won't tolerate your kind stirring up trouble."
One guard sneers, his hand drifting to his sword. "Better watch yourself, barkeep."
The giant doesn't flinch. "I'll be sure to send Hellion my regards... through your broken bones if you start a fight here." His voice is cold enough to freeze fire, and something changes in the room, an invisible tension coiling tighter.
The guards curse under their breath and back down, retreating like whipped dogs. The giant nods to a servant who rushes to help the injured man. The tension in the bar ebbs, conversations resuming in low murmurs.
Mr. Draven, the bloodhound of Solisra, returns behind the bar as if nothing happened, pouring drinks with the steady rhythm of someone used to living on the edge. Leonhart raises his glass to him with that infuriating smile.
"Business good, Draven?" Leonhart asks.
"Idiots are flourishing, like always," Draven grumbles. "Now stop wasting my time."
I twirl my straw absently, trying to focus. Draven is our first target. Throw a juicy meat slice to the starving bloodhound, Sir Gillion had said. I remind myself of why I'm here. Draven deserves what's coming to him—for Iza.
Leonhart's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "So, your singer's dead, huh? No funeral plans?"
Draven's eyes harden. "Traitors deserve no flowers."
"You see, Mel," Leonhart turns to me with a smirk. "Becca was spying on this ugly brute. Some noble thought he could take what belongs to Draven." He pauses, enjoying my discomfort. "Some hero took care of that problem."
I say nothing to him as Draven's gaze is now on me. He doesn't seem to react other than falling a pitiful look on me. It's probably about me being stuck with this madman.
He nods me as a greet and I fake a smile. "Give this missus a refill, First time here can be a lot,"
Jay runs to me at his order. "Oh no, thank you," I say to him quickly. I know, It's maddeningly tasty but I need to keep my head clear for the night. Leonhart gives me an encouraging nod before turning around with his drink.
I swallow. "It's not my first time here," I say carefully observing him. But he is nonchalant. "Is that so? Then give her a red one,"
I am frowning and almost scoffing. "I don't need a damn drink," Words pour into my mouth. And those stops his working hand. I am Iza, nervous, impatient, angry, innocent poor Iza.
Draven looks at me. "What is it, miss?"
"You don't remember me, do you? You tried to sell me once," I say to him like an innocent girl. My tears are at the doorstep of my eyes, ready to come out at the right time. But not yet.
Not yet.
"You'll have to be more specific, love. I've had a lot of bad debt to settle." He says, his rough voice gets soft as if he is gossiping with me. My jaw drops and I wipe my nose with the back of my hand.
"ah!... What?" My eyes run all around the place when he turns to his livers and beer mugs. "Right," I say to myself. "I should never have come. Well, what did I expect from my dear uncle?" I spit the last words getting down from the seat.
"Wait!" Draven growls. And I am stuck just by his order. I am already nervous enough to sweat from my every skin and my fingertips are trembling not knowing if he is buying this or not. I am literally amid wolves' den. "Who's she?" His gaze is on Leonhart, firm, same as his words.
"Talk to me!" I snap and some heads in the bar turn to my way. "I am talking to you, aren't I?"
"Alright," Draven says having enough of this drama. Trust me, I too am already done. "Let's get to the point quickly, shall we?"
"Alright," I nod confidently, swallowing the lump in my throat and sniffling. He looks at me under his gaze as if he is trying not to laugh at me.
"I'm Mel," I start. "Your older sister Eurasia's daughter who you tried to sell for your bad debt" His expression completely flips at the mention of Iza's mother.
I sniffle again, tears rolling down. "I ran away, got fucked up again and here I am, just to... I don't know... that's it!" I see Leonhart looking at me with raised brows. I cannot read Draven at all. "... And I am leaving,"
Jay looks at Draven with widened eyes as he has forgotten his rug. And Draven says something. I am too nervous to hear him.
"... What?" I ask.
"... I said, you're not her,"