Along the boardwalk that Maven was perched on, 3 rowdy men come bumbling down.
They have no homes to go to on this chilling Spring night. They are vagabonds.
One of them swigs alcohol from a brown inconspicuous paper bag.
They stop at Maven, becoming quickly irritated when he doesn't give them any attention.
One of them rudely kicks the side of his thigh.
He tears his gaze away from the water's edge and fixes it on them blankly.
"A fine evening, ain't it, son?"
Maven does not reply, he knows they want a reaction.
"You deaf or something? You can't greet?"
Another of them sneers.
"I have nothing to say to you."
They laugh at his boldness.
"You're not from around here."
The leader speaks up, as they look him up and down.
One reaches for his cloak, meaning to feel the material.
Maven angles his head away, so they do not touch him.
"I am."
Maven answers calmly.
They all laugh but nothing is funny.
"Is that so? Silver."
The leader leans over Maven, in what he thinks is an intimidating fashion.
"It really is too bad you guys don't run things 'round here no more. Humour us. How much money is in that coin purse of yours?"
Maven sighs.
That is what they wanted all along.
"Either way, not a penny will fall into your hands."
There is a sudden shift in the air, the thinly veiled and fake friendliness dissipates quickly.
"Oh, there you Silvers go, assuming the likes of us are lower than you. Assuming we need your money."
The leader laughs revealing a row of disorganised teeth.
His goons laugh with him, like sheep.
"Well. I do need your money, so I guess you're not all wrong. But this time, son, I'm not asking."
Maven rolls his eyes and stands up, refusing to let them tower over him any longer.
Their necks slightly crane up, he is taller than they all thought.
The leader takes a step closer and they face off.
"No. And I'm not your son."
Maven stands his ground.
"Now, please leave me alone."
The man grabs Maven's cloak by the collar, bunching his fists up.
The goons back him up, their arms crossed.
"I commend your balls kid. You remind me of me when I was your age. But you need to learn when to back down. 3 versus 1. Use your head, son. Now, now, reach into your pocket and retrieve your money. I'll be having that fancy dagger at your side too. For the trouble."
The leader's beady eyes caught a glimpse of it.
It would fetch a pretty penny at the market. Or he could even keep it for himself.
YOU ARE READING
𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄
Romance[Completed - Book 3 of the Blood Court Series] ❝ You manipulated me. Did you think I would be happy? To see you sit on my throne. The throne you stole from me, while you let me die. Me...
