Chapter 6: Serena’s POV

Once the refugees were settled, Miles and I made our way to the Broken Tooth Tavern and ordered two mugs of ale.

The swill they served at the Broken Tooth usually needed a third of it cut with cold water before you could pretend it didn't taste like horse piss.

I sprawled across the bar, rolling the silver coin Lan had tossed me between my fingers. Miles sat beside me, wolfing down a half-charred slab of meat — a little "service fee" we'd skimmed for ourselves after securing the refugee camp's winter supplies.

"So this vagrant who just appeared out of nowhere didn't rob you, and actually paid you the silver for your milk?" Miles said, chewing and slurring at the same time. "Rogue, did you put some kind of love charm on him?"

"Shut up and eat your meat." I couldn't be bothered with him.

Truth was, I was rattled too. The way that man named Lan looked at me — too sharp, like he could see straight through every layer of my disguise.

I touched the Moonstone Bracelet in my pocket again and decided that once I finished this drink, I'd head back to Hale Manor and not set foot in the Lower City for the next half month.

But in this godforsaken capital, trouble always arrives faster than your plans.

The tavern's rickety wooden door burst open with a bang from a kick outside.

In an instant, the whole tavern's noise seemed to hit pause. A horrifying presence swept through the enclosed space.

A few low-rank werewolves nearby, mid-drinking contest, actually buckled at the knees and dropped to the floor, whimpering in their throats.

My spine went rigid. Every alarm in my body started screaming.

Damn it. It was that damned northern noble.

He stood in the doorway, not in his ornate noble's cloak but in a close-fitting dark grey hunting outfit. Rainwater dripped from his pale flaxen hair, and those ice-blue eyes, like frozen blades, swept slowly across the tavern.

"Rogue…" Miles grabbed my sleeve in terror. "Is that… is that the monster from the Black Pine Forest?"

"Don't make a sound." I dropped my voice, my body coiling tight as a drawn bow, ready to slip out from under the bar.

"Hiding under a table isn't a smart choice, little mouse."

A cold voice sounded directly above my head.

Too fast! I hadn't even seen him cross half the tavern. I jerked my head up — his hand had already slammed onto the bar in front of me, and the solid wood actually cracked.

He stared down at me, fury churning in his eyes.

"Your camouflage powder does mask your scent. But did you forget? You're carrying our northern Moonstone in your pocket. The faint pulse of moonlight stone in the dark is like a lighthouse to a pureblood werewolf."

I swore under my breath and, without a second's hesitation, grabbed the strong liquor off the bar and hurled it in his face!

"Go to hell, lighthouse!"

As he turned his head to dodge, I kicked off the edge of the bar, flipped backward, and landed squarely on a gambling table.

"Miles, run!" I bellowed.

The noble was clearly enraged by my move. He didn't even wipe the liquor from his face — his tall frame shot toward me like an arrow loosed from a bow. In this cramped space, his speed was simply despairing.

Just as his claws were about to close on my throat—

Bang!

A sturdy arm shot out from the side and caught his killing blow dead in the air.

"Bullying a half-grown street kid in a tavern full of commoners." A voice rang out, dripping with mockery. "Is this the northern nobility's idea of manners?"

I turned, stunned.

It was Lan.

Still in that worn leather jacket, standing between me and the noble. Against that attack, he hadn't retreated half a step — hadn't even broken his breathing.

"Get out of the way, vagrant. This is none of your business." His eyes narrowed slightly; he had clearly sensed Lan's strength too.

"And if I insist on making it my business?" A cold smile hooked the corner of Lan's mouth.

The next second, two utterly different auras crashed together in the tavern!

The collision shattered every glass in the place!

I swear I'd never seen anything so insane in my life. Two monster-class fighters, brawling in a rundown underground tavern over a "street thief."

Boom!

Lan drove a fist into his shoulder; he answered with a backhand elbow to Lan's ribs. Their movements blurred into afterimages, every impact landing with a sickening thud. Innocent tables and chairs went flying, a few unlucky drinkers were flung aside by the shockwaves, and the Broken Tooth Tavern turned into a living hell in an instant.

"Stop! My tables! My liquor!" the tavern keeper wailed from behind the bar.

I crouched on a snapped support beam, watching the two men go at each other, my mouth twitching.

What the hell was this vagrant Lan? He could go toe-to-toe with that noble in a fistfight? And why was he helping me?

Just as I was weighing whether to sneak in a cheap shot or just cut and run, a shrill brass whistle sounded outside.

"City Guard! Surround the place! Report of a werewolf rampage!"

The capital's City Guard had arrived.

"Damn it." I cursed under my breath. If the Guard caught me, my identity as "Little Rogue" would be dug up inside and out, and the Hale family would lose every shred of face it had.

I looked at the two men still brawling in the wreckage, took a deep breath, pulled two silver coins from my pocket, and flicked them hard between them.

Ching! Ching!

The crisp ring of silver made both men freeze for a beat.

"Much obliged for the help, brothers!" I stood on the windowsill, whistled at them, and gave them a look of pure innocence. "The City Guard's here to pay the bill — you two enjoy yourselves. Your little brother will be on his way!"

With that, I vaulted straight through the broken window and vanished into the labyrinth of sewers.

A second before the darkness swallowed me, I vaguely heard two furious roars from inside the tavern—

"You damned liar!"

"Grab everyone inside! They're the notorious bandit gang!" the Guard captain bellowed.

I leaned against the damp brick wall, listening to the shouts from the tavern's direction, and couldn't help laughing out loud.

A proud northern noble and a mysterious, dangerous vagrant — hauled into the City Guard's lockup as accomplices of a street thief?

Tomorrow's capital morning paper was going to be very entertaining.