Page 29 of Blood & Claw

Slow down, he counseled himself then. This lass could be useful to you.

“So, you thought you’d find them here, did you?” He gestured at the shadowy ale-hall around them. He certainly had—that was why he’d visited this shithole.

She swallowed. “No … I’m just here for a sellsword.” Her chin lifted then. “Is that what you are?”

“I fight and kill for coin, aye.”

“So, you’re good?”

“Aye.” He observed her under hooded lids. The lass’s recklessness was going to get her killed. At the very least, it might make her a pain in the arse. She could get in the way. “This woman we’re rescuing … who is she to you?”

He had to make sure this was the right woman.

A muscle flexed in her lean jaw. “My mentor.”

“So, what’s your trade?”

Heat flashed in those black eyes. “Does it matter?”

“It might,” he replied, taking a gulp of ale and immediately regretting it. The drink was foul. “If I’m risking my neck, I want to know what I’m getting into.”

“My mentor is a master tattooist … I’m her apprentice.”

Darach swallowed a smile. “And those men who took her … any idea why?”

“No.” Frustration bled into her voice. “And I don’t really care … I just need to get her back.”

Darach gave a soft snort.

He was curious why those warriors had taken Kayla, and she should be too. Knowledge was power. It might give him an advantage when confronting them.

He preferred to know exactly what waited for him, for he needed Kayla alive. He needed her help. She was one of the few tattooists in The Wolds who could channel earth magic properly, who could fix what had been done to him.

Or at least, he hoped.

“So, you want me to help you take them on with … what? That wee knife in your boot?”

She stiffened. “How did you—”

“Mercenaries mark such things,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And since you carry no weapon at your belt, I assumed it’s concealed elsewhere.” He paused then. “Only someone with shit between their ears would walk into a place like this without a blade.”

She flushed red at that. Her dark gaze hardened.

“Look,” he said, gentling his tone. “I’m not saying it can’t be done. But you can’t just march up to these men and demand they hand your mentor over.”

“I know that.” Her fingers flexed on the table, and he glimpsed those sharp nails again before she curled them into fists. “That’s why I need assistance.”

He inclined his head. “For twenty silver pennies?”

She gave a jerky nod, suitably chagrined. He should think so; he couldn’t believe she’d blurted that out in the middle of this place. Those words were the first he’d heard after entering the ale-hall.

“That’s a generous fee.” He pretended to think it over. “But it won’t do me much good if I end up dead.”

“You won’t … not if we come up with a plan.” She hesitated then. “Half now. Half when the job’s done.”

Once more, he made a show of considering the offer. Of course, he’d already decided.

This hadn’t been part of his initial plan. Before walking into this ale-hall, he’d been focused on tracking Kayla down, freeing her, and getting her help. Nothing else.