Common folk escaping the deluge outside provided a cacophony of laughter.

A table in the corner was the favored spot of mercenary soldiers. Most people kept their distance from the tattooed men and women who fought for a living. They weren’t like those who joined the royal army to feed their families.

Mercenaries spoke as if they enjoyed what they did.

Madran mercenary forces had fought across the sea for the sorcerer they called La Dame until she was defeated. Madran royal forces had been on the other side of that battle. So many families lost their loved ones to war.

The difference was choice. Those in the royal army had no choice where they were sent or for whom they fought.

Mercenaries chose based on who paid the highest coin.

Where did Dell belong? Even in an alehouse meant to be a meeting place of all people, he didn’t fit.

He took the only empty table wedged up beside the mercenaries.

Catsja appeared, mug in hand. “Hi, sweetie.” She smiled as she set the ale down. “You look a little lost today.” She reached out and trailed a finger down his cheek.

Dell peered up into her dull gray eyes. Catjsa was a beautiful woman with her long, raven hair piled in an intricate design on top of her head. Eyes that spoke of experience with the world. A petite frame.

But he suddenly didn’t understand why he’d fought Orlo for her. She was his wife, and Dell was nothing but a potential distraction.

He leaned back, away from her roving hands. “I’m okay, Catjsa.” He pulled a coin from his pocket and set it on the table. “Thank you.”

She flicked her eyes from the coin to him and back again and shook her head. “No, dear. You’re not.” She wiped her hands on her apron and glanced behind her to make sure none of the other patrons needed her before sliding into the seat across from him.

“What’s on your mind, Dell Tenyson?” She pushed his ale toward him. “It’s lunch. Drink up and when you’re finished telling me all about this woman you can’t stop thinking of, I’ll fetch you some bread and cheese.”

He met her eyes. “Grapes too… if you have them.”

She laughed, and he found he enjoyed her laugh when she lost the predatory glint in her eye. “Grapes too. Now out with it.”

He scratched his chin, trying to figure out what he could say without telling her too much. “I have a friend,” he began. “And I think she’s in trouble.”

“How so?” Catjsa leaned forward, listening intently.

“The man she’s with… she’s alluded to not being allowed to leave.”

Darkness crossed Catjsa’s face. “That is the way of many marriages.”

“But they aren’t married. He is to wed someone else. I think she’s in danger.”