“If that is so,” Phelan said to me, his voice low with offense, “then read my eyes now. Tell me what I’m thinking.”

I took a sip of wine before I met his stare. His eyes were dark, like new moons, and for all my bluster . . . I had no idea what thoughts haunted him.

“You’re thinking that you’re hungry, and the noise in this tavern is too loud for your liking,” I teased, and lifted my goblet to him.

Phelan begrudgingly clinked his glass against mine, and the tension between us melted as we began to eat.

“Are you an artist yourself, Anna?” Nura asked.

“No,” I replied swiftly. “I unfortunately have no such talent, but I love the work of others.” And it was time for me to turn the conversation toward them. I smiled and asked, “How do you know Phelan?”

Olivette and Nura exchanged a glance.

“I’ve known Phelan for years,” Olivette eventually replied. “We went to school together.”

“And I met Olivette two years ago,” Nura said. “When she was looking for a partner. She introduced me to Phelan not long afterward.”

Olivette slathered honey butter onto a slice of bread. “Our territory is next to Phelan’s, in case he hasn’t told you yet. And we have a tradition of eating here at least once a month, before the next new moon.”

“A lovely tradition,” I said, and I meant it. I longed for this sort of camaraderie.

Our second course of food arrived, distracting us, and slowly, I became more comfortable, but I never let my guard down. If I was honest . . . I enjoyed Nura’s and Olivette’s company. Perhaps more than I should.

“You’ll give us a warning if Phelan decides to go madcap, won’t you, Anna?” Olivette asked suddenly.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as Phelan nearly choked on his wine.

“I’m not going madcap, Oli,” he said tersely, as if they had argued about this before. “I told you. I’m not leaving Bardyllis or my streets for a long time.”

Madcap.

Vulture.

I slid my gaze askance to look at him.

“You say that now, but you hear the gossip among our kind,” Nura said. “The curse of the Seren Duchy has stood for a century, tempting every warden in the realm. An empty throne, a fortress cursed full of nightmares. Which of us wouldn’t want to experience it?”

“It sounds dreadful,” Phelan said in a flat tone. “And if the curse breaks . . . we’ll all be without a job, won’t we?”