The Forgotten Crown (2019) Book 1 of The Broken Crown Series

2. It takes a Spy

Dirk shivered in the bitter northern wind and jerked the lapel of his rough-spun cloak up aggressively. He paused long enough by the redpine front door of The Boar to knock his muddy boots upon the scrapers before crossing the threshold. His mother had taught him some manners after all. Everything in this blasted, saints-forsaken country was red. Noticing the bronze plaque by the door he touched two fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss against the likeness of the lady Ilia, goddess of traveler's. T'was bad luck not to and Dirk could use all the luck he could lay his hands upon. Slouching over to a dark corner, he ordered a pint and waited.

An hour passed as he nursed his drink in silence. His foot tapped impatiently and drew the attention of the barmaid, a short woman with corkscrew curls and more curves than a rams horn. A delectable creature he'd normally enjoy pursuing. "Another pint?" Her smile was inviting, promising even. He slapped two coppers down wordlessly upon the dilapidated redpine table and she brought him another. Blowing the foam off the top, he settled himself in for a long wait. His unassuming brown eyes roamed the tavern, marking each and every person and venture, never missing a single detail. Too many people had mistaken those eyes as kind, much to their own detriment.

There was no doubt, when his reason for being there arrived. The dandy stood out like a peacock in a hen house. Lord Blanche strode purposefully to the back of the Inn led by the proprietor and a rather rotund girl dripping in frippery, the cheap kind. The proprietor slipped a squat little figurine into his pocket and the girl batted her eyes and offered the dandy a coquettish smile. For once the man's impeccable manners and smile wavered.

Dirk snorted into his tankard and his shiver this time had nothing to do with the pervasive cold. Not for the first time did he not envy the attention lathed upon the young Lord. No amount of ale would convince him to return that smile either. His eyes followed the unusual party as they were ushered down a narrow hall and into a private dining area. The door was opened by a tall, pale girl with large green eyes. While the Lord did not spare the woman a second glance Dirk choked loudly on his ale.

Coughing and spluttering he lurched to his feet, attempting to excuse himself as gracefully as possible without drawing further attention. When all eyes had returned to their own tankards and ventures, he slid silently down the dark hallway. He cast one last look about for prying eyes and when he was convinced he remained unnoticed, plastered his ear to the door. The clamor and clang from the kitchens traveled from further up the hall and he had an abominable time distinguishing the conversation within the room.

Frustrated, he held his breath as he eased the door open a crack. At last discernible words trickled through the gap and while his view was limited, it told him much. The conversation was mostly drivel and his neck began cramping from his awkward position, yet he stolidly remained.

His efforts were rewarded when the girl unwittingly captured the attention of Blanche. He couldn't see what precipitated the Lord's attention but one moment he was ignoring her entirely like the spoiled ponce he was and the next it was as if he'd seen a ghost. The girl looked positively terrified.

The hours passed yet Dirk remained steadfast in his position by the door. A heavenly voice floated through his little crack and he dared to open it wider. The maid's eyes were closed and her pale, upturned face glowed serenely in the candlelight, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Young Lord Blanche sat spellbound before her. Dirk stretched on his tiptoes to gain a better view and saw a tiny copper tendril escape the confines of her scarf. He drank the sight in greedily.

All too soon the Lord signaled the end of their dinner as Dirk knew he would. He hadn't watched Blanche all these months without learning a thing or two about the man, his patience was limited. Blanche wanted to get the girl alone. Dirk wanted to get the girl alone, and neither cared how comely she might be. A new game was afoot.

Quickly vacating the door, he sequestered himself in the shadows further down the hall. He trailed after the pair stealthily, dodging from post to sunken doorway to shadowed corners as if he'd been born in the dark. Waiting out of sight, just around the corner, until they entered the room, he darted to the door on silent feet.

"Look at me girl." Blanche's voice was soft, yet commanding...beguiling. The man made for a terrible spy yet Dirk couldn't help but wonder how many maids had succumbed to that voice. "Are you afraid of me girl?"

Surprisingly her voice filled the room. She had backbone, he'd give her that. Knowing the confrontation was drawing to a close, Dirk darted back downstairs. He had no fear for the girl, Blanche was harmless...mostly. Pulling the buxom barmaid into conversation he positioned himself casually by the hallway. The tall girl brushed passed him silently but not before he got a good look at her rattled expression, and more importantly her face.

Bidding the barmaid farewell, he pulled his hat further down on his head and jerked his collar up once more to brave the cold, blowing a much more enthusiastic kiss to Lady Ilia on his way out the door. She had just earned herself a new believer. The Boar had just earned itself a new patron and Dirk disappeared smiling into the night, believing he had just earned his biggest payday yet.