And then it happens: Hawk laughs and leans back, tilting his chair on two legs and colliding with Ines as she walks past. She barely stumbles, but the space is tight and the forward motion causes her to knock into the bald man, spilling his pint of beer all over his lap. As if on cue, Hawk and his crew all turn to look at Ines and me. No!

The bald man growls and grabs Ines by the wrist. Her free hand immediately moves to her belt under her coat, where I know she has multiple knives.

“I hope you’re reaching for your wallet, darlin’, otherwise you’re going to sorely regret it,” the bald man says to Ines in a way that tells me he’s used to people backing down from him.

Anger flashes in Ines’s eyes and I get the distinct impression that in any other circumstances she would take her chances and fight this guy. But I can’t think about how to help her because Hawk is staring at me and I at him. And it’s instantly clear that he recognizes me. My eyes flit to Mary, the no-nonsense woman who dismissed us angrily when Ash and I tried to hire them, and her expression is as hardened as ever.

“I’ll get you another,” Ines says through clenched teeth, and yanks her wrist out of the bald man’s grasp. And for a moment I can’t believe she’s forcing civility. Is she waiting to see what Hawk will do, or does she know something I don’t about unallied crews?

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the bald man says, and I’m reminded of what Aarya said about Strategia smelling weakness. “I’m not sure I like that tone of yours. Not very, uh, apologetic.”

Jenny, the weapons specialist with the long sword earring and the leather jacket, clenches her jaw. But no one else at the table so much as tweaks an eyebrow. Time slows to a near halt, everyone calculating what move they’re going to make without having arrived at a firm decision.

“Run along now,” the bald man says to Ines, pushing his chair out farther and completely cutting me off from the exit. “We’ll just keep your friend here company until you return.”

I glare at the bald man. My possible escape routes are absolute garbage—I can either jump on the table and hope I can get off the other side without one of Hawk’s crew cutting me down or I can try to force my way past this jerk, which will probably end the same way.

The bald man turns to me, wiping his lips with the back of his hand—a hand cluttered with rings, one of which is a big silver owl. My thoughts immediately go to Nyx—the Owl Family. And in that instant time speeds up again.