hearts of metal

xxii. it's a deal

Aelin lasted about 3 hours. When her dad and Aedion didn't return that night from their mysterious business, she climbed out of bed and got dressed in her usual black attire. She slipped on her knives, including a pair of butterfly knives which she tucked into her boots.

Then she climbed off the balcony and snuck across the lawn, wet with dew. She made it outside the fence without raising the alarm, though it was difficult with the increased security.

Briefly, Aelin wondered if even this was enough. If the guards missed her, surely someone as good as her could slip in without being detected.

Granted, few were as good at her. A gift from Arobynn's years of harsh training, she supposed.

Making a mental note to talk to Aedion about it, she walked the familiar way into the seedy areas of the nearby city. Once she was in the thin, dark alley, she followed the weak flicker of the neon sign reading The Guild.

She strode in. The guard at the door, already recognizing her, didn't say a word. The blonde wove her way through the crowd, finding a familiar head of brown hair. For a brief second, she was reminded of Sam. An ache shot through her chest.

Then said figure approached her, a sleazy grin on his face, and the mirage fell.

"Archer," she greeted coyly, forcing a slight smile on her face.

"Lillian," he said. "You here to fight?"

"Just here to enjoy the night," she answered, shrugging her shoulders.

"Let's get you a drink then, doll." He slung an arm around her and led her to the bar, ordering a drink in a low tone.

The barkeep slid two glasses their way, brown liquid sloshing inside. Aelin pretended to take a sip, more interested in learning about the mysterious Valg tonight than anything else.

Not wanting to raise suspicion, Aelin waited until Archer was called away by someone to scan the place. She noticed a few men glancing her way, situated around a back table.

Waltzing over to them, she noticed the cards laid out. With a vicious smirk, Aelin dragged out a chair and plopped down at their table. She cast her feet up on the table. "Deal me in?"

With a wary look, one man dealt her a hand.

"You waiting on someone?" Aelin asked in a bored tone, as she examined her cards.

The man who dealt her in, who'd been nervously glancing around, as if searching for someone, startled. He was tall and beefy, hunched over in his seat.

A shorter man with muscle corded arms elbowed him. "Watch it, Mullin," he ordered.

Mullin mumbled and turned back to his cards. The third man, or more average height and lithe muscles, merely watched the interaction in silence.

She eyed Mullin, seemingly the weak link. Glancing over his outfit, she caught the noticeable sight of a tiny bag of powder in his pocket. Moron.

"Tern," came the call from behind. The short man turned, while Aelin watched from the corner of her eyes while still pretending to be focused on her cards.

The man, Tern, left, but not before casting both men warning glances. They nodded, and returned to the game.

Aelin figured now was as good a time as any. "You waiting on a shipment?"

When Mullin paled, she gestured to his pocket.

"Or is that just for fun?" she added, with a casual shrug.