Today, the war ends for me. That’s what I tell myself, as I enter the royal suite. One last mission and I’ll satisfy the debt binding me to the Great Lord.
Darkness envelops me like a friend. My hand closes around the hilt tucked into my servant’s dress as I step over the snoring maidservant at the foot of the royal bed.
Under my hand, salt breaks away from the gate in thick, crystalized flakes. Reus giggles. He reaches out his chubby baby fingers, but I yank him back, pressing his face to my cloak when his laugh turns to a startled wail.
“Shh…” I hold him closer, my heart pounding as I look over my shoulder.
Mark taps me on the shoulder. “Dynamite warm?”
Plants rustle as I reach down amid the overgrowth and into my sock, fingering the explosive stick and the wooden blasting cap filled with gunpowder. It’s warm against my skin, safely cocooned from the frosty night air. I nod, even though he can’t see it.
“Everything can be monetized,” said the businessman at the corner table. “Christmas is a case in point.”
The waiter didn’t want conversation. Now that he’d gotten close to famed investor Eb Scrooge, he had plans. He shifted his feet and asked again, “Can I get you anything else? Top off your water?”
“What is the meaning of this?!” Grimwald’s breath puffed in the suddenly frigid air.
Edmund was his business partner once, before consumption claimed him. They built their fortune together, squeezing every farthing from desperate borrowers, foreclosing on widows, and turning away beggars who froze on their doorstep.
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