“They won’t let me leave port until I have your permission,” the sailor explained. “The soldiers at the dock said I had to come here to meet with you. Once you return my ship’s log, I can set sail.”

Dexter shook his head. “What I want to know is how did you come to be in an Axian port in the first place?” His right hand slid to his thigh, forming a fist, the muscles along his forearm bulging. Even though he managed to maintain an even voice as he spoke to the sailor, Reid could tell he was restraining himself.

“Oh, funny you should ask.” The man shifted in his chair. “There was a storm. I meant to enter a port in southern Bridger. The sea was rough, and we got blown a bit off course. We ended up here by accident. That’s when the Axian soldiers closed the port and wouldn’t let us leave.”

“And who is us?”

“Me and my crew.”

“Did you bring anyone from Melenia here with you?”

The sailor wiped his hands on his pants. “Yes.”

“Explain.”

“Some men paid me mighty handsomely for passage to Marsden. I didn’t ask any questions though. Just brought them here.” He swallowed.

“Thank you for your time,” Dexter said as he shoved his chair back and stood. “Here’s your ship’s log. I’ll escort you back to port, so you don’t get off course again.” When they exited the tavern, Gytha silently followed them.

Reid rose and went to the table, examining the discarded paper on top. It had a sketch of a ship with the name Widow Maker on it. Running her fingers along the drawing, Reid wondered if it was a coincidence that it was a Bridger ship. The men who’d attempted to assassinate the royal family in northern Marsden had claimed they were from Axian. However, when she’d stumbled upon the mines in Bridger, those men had resembled the assassins. She suspected the king had hired the miners to assassinate his siblings in order to eliminate any contenders for the throne. If that was the case, then how did this ship fit into everything? Maybe Reid was simply overthinking it by trying to find a connection where there wasn’t one.

“Let’s go,” Markis said, tossing some money on the table to pay for their food and drinks. The other two soldiers had already exited the tavern.

Reid grabbed the paper, shoving it beside the dagger hidden in her dress.

They rode until it was too dark to travel, then set up camp for the night. The following morning, they set out before the sun had even risen. They repeated this pattern for two days, the commander keeping a relentless pace. Reid had heard someone say they were making up ground so no one would question where they’d been.