“Speak,” Lina said to the man.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” He wiped a hand down his greasy beard.

The blood vessels in his dark-ringed eyes were burst from drinking or shouting . . . probably both. Bri knew his type. They darkened every tavern doorway.

“We had a fire at the shop,” the man said. “Half my tools are gone. I can’t work. We don’t have enough money for food or to fix the damage.”

The baby in the woman’s arms let out a soft whine and the woman jolted, bouncing as a sheen of sweat broke out on her brow.

The baby cried again and the man scowled. “Keep her quiet,” he growled.

“That won’t be necessary,” Lina cut in, narrowing her eyes at the man. “All of my people deserve to be heard, especially the children. They tend to be the most honest of all.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “All right, then,” he said, dismissing what was clear to everyone else as a warning. “Will you help me with my shop?”

“I will send someone tomorrow to survey the damage and see what we can do.” Her eyes darted once more between the man and woman, lingering on the woman’s lean frame and jittery movements.

The couple bowed and scuttled off. Bri watched Lina’s shrewd, assessing eyes and already knew who she was going to send. Airev would be taking to the streets of Swifthill again.

Chapter Twelve

Bri’s knuckles rapped lightly on the door, and she heard the shuffle of feet from inside. When Tem answered the door in nothing but his trousers, Bri regretted coming without Carys.

She clenched her jaw, her eyes dropping to the small silver pendant around his neck. He must have already retrieved his stolen necklace from the manor in town. He was leaner than a soldier but still carved with muscle over light brown skin, more brawny than Bri had expected.

“Sorry to disturb you.”

“Not at all,” Tem said, grabbing his tunic from somewhere behind the door and hauling it over his head. “I was just getting changed. How can I help you?”

Bri crossed her arms. “I wanted to ask you some questions about the attack.”

“Oh.” His dark eyebrows lifted. “Of course.”

He stepped back, opening the door for her, and she paced into a lavish formal sitting room. It was far more sumptuous than hers, with gold-embroidered curtains, woven fabric chairs, and clay vases of freshly cut flowers.

She eyed the sword hanging over the mantle, its hilt dusty enough to denote it as decoration and nothing more.

“Do you reside in the palace?” she asked, dropping into the seat that Tem gestured to.

He perched on the armrest of the opposite chair. “We have a family home in the city that I sometimes stay in, but most of the time I’m here, serving on Her Highness’s council.” The thought of him living in the palace rankled Bri for some reason, but she hid her frown. “Do you want a refresh—”