Rezkin handed a goblet to the general and then took up position standing at Frisha’s side, his hand resting on the back of the sofa. His fingers barely brushed her exposed neck, and she settled with a smug look in Reaylin’s direction. Reaylin shrugged and leaned forward ever so slightly. Now that Rezkin was facing her from across the room, he would have a better look … and so did everyone else. Marcum lifted the goblet to his lips and then paused. Gazing into the glass, he subtly sniffed, but his actions did not go unnoticed.

“Really, Marcum, do you think I would stoop to poisoning you, and in front of your family, no less? A swordmaster of your accomplishment should at least have the honor of dying on a blade, should he not?” Rezkin asked as though in jest, but his eyes spoke a darker meaning.

Marcum cleared his throat uncomfortably. The seemingly benign questions were both a promise and a threat. It was a promise that should Rezkin decide to challenge the general, he would do so with honor, face-to-face in combat. It was also a reminder that, should that happen, the younger man would probably win.

Frisha laughed. “Oh, Uncle, that’s absurd. You know Rezkin would never do something like that, and why should he? I know you two don’t get along, but I’m confident you can resolve your differences,” she said with pleading eyes. “Besides, where would Rezkin get poison anyway?”

Everyone stared at the young woman, including Rezkin. At this point, even Marcum could not believe that his niece could be so oblivious. Everything about Rezkin said danger, darkness, and death. All Frisha saw was an honorable knight in shining armor.

The answer came from Reaylin of all places. “Oh, please, Frisha. Even I could get poison. Besides, Rezkin has healing skills. He probably knows how to make one himself.”

“Oh,” Frisha said. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She was embarrassed to have that pointed out, especially by Reaylin of all people. She shrugged and brushed it off saying, “Well, he wouldn’t do that anyway. He’s not a murderer.” The young woman gave her uncle a pointed look as if to challenge him to claim otherwise.

Marcum scowled but did not take the bait. He knew Frisha wanted to know more about the secrets he held in confidence. “That is not why I called you all here. What I have to tell you is very serious.” That caught everyone’s attention. “For the past few weeks, reports have been flooding in from all over northern Ashai. As you know, trouble was brewing with the local thieves’ guilds in Justain while you were there. Apparently, they were overtaken by a new criminal overlord.”

Captain Jimson leaned forward at the general’s pause. “Which guilds?”