Read King of Assassins: The Elven Ways: Book Three for Free Online

Trader Bregan.”
    “He stood with you?”
    “For most of it.” Sevryn did not part with more detail than that as he surveyed the alley. Tavern first, but if the trader had well and truly fled, he’d not catch up to him for a few days, not until things were settled here. Tolby fell in step with him as he strong-armed the tavern door open, a structure of solid wood, smelling of beer and raw hard liquor, and smoke. Few enough faces outlined by sooty lamplight turned to squint warily at them in the doorway. He saw no sign of Bregan. A low growl of disappointment escaped his throat. He shouldered the door shut before muttering, “Bregan turned tail on me.”
    “There will be a season for that one,” Tolby said.
    “Without doubt.” His temples throbbing, Sevryn attempted the street, Tolby in step with him. His head cleared more with every step. “Rivergrace will be wanting to know where we are.”
    “Oh, she knows where we are. She’ll be wantin’ to know what trouble we’re in.”
    Sevryn smiled in spite of himself. He would be held accountable for his actions, and he did not mind it. Despite his shortness of stature, common to all Dwellers, Tolby nearly matched him stride for stride. At the farmhouse, Keldan, the youngest Farbranch, met them at the front door with a wry grin, saying only, “Things are quietin’ a bit.” He brushed his dark hair from his eyes, his longish wavy cut reminding Sevryn of the hot-blooded elven horses the Dweller so admired.
    Nutmeg was the center of attention. She sat, her feet up, her face scrunched in consternation over the display of concern as Lily moved back and forth between her and the kitchen. Rivergrace perched on a stool nearby, a cleaning rag in one hand and her sword in the other, taking slow, deliberate wipes along the blade, her head bent in thought. The moment the two men stepped in the room, her face came up and her gaze fixed on Sevryn, searching, and then she relaxed into a smile.
    Nutmeg put her hand up at Tolby. “Now, Dad, don’t be yelling at Grace for putting me on the ground. I was a prize target before that.”
    “Mmmmm,” her father said, leaning over to kiss one, then the other on the cheek. He turned to Hosmer. “Two different groups of assassins, or am I wrong in my thinking?”
    “No, you’re right. The Vaelinars swept in first and they would have taken Nutmeg if you had not been here, Sevryn.”
    “Ild Fallyn?”
    Hosmer, a shorter and stockier version of his father, shrugged. “Not wearing th’ black and silver, but that would be a fair guess, we’re all thinking. What we cannot guess is who the Kobrir came after.” Not a question outright, but Hosmer locked his gaze on Sevryn.
    He did not answer, thinking that the Kobrir might not have been in Calcort at all, save for his drawing them there. But he could not be sure. Their targets had been many and their contract broken. Had he just proved too costly and they changed their minds? Or was finding the king of assassins a deeper trap? The handcuffs tucked away inside his shirt smoldered, and he thought of Rivergrace and the faint scars about her forearms from just such a binding when she was a child, cuffs commissioned and used by Quendius to enslave her and her family. His jaw tightened. Grace blinked up at him as if she’d caught that in his face, and he reminded himself how sensitive she was to him now. It was the way they were meant to be. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and squeezed it lightly.
    She put her weapon and cleaning cloth away briskly. “We have to get word to Lariel.”
    “Pigeon master is at the nor’eastern quarter, near the curve of the river, edge of the lanes. Night is falling, but he can still set them on their way. I’ll come with you,” Hosmer offered, tugging at his City Guard’s tunic, the rest of his uniform consisting of cuffed horse boots over plain trousers. His light brown hair curled down to his collar, and his expressive hazel eyes darted a look between