Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1) by Lauren Amundson Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t hard. Scratched wood covered the floors. Long tables filled the cavernous room. A couple groups of rowdy patrons spoke loudly amongst themselves. A long bar was nestled beneath stairs along the right side of the room. A man stood in front of the bar, resting an elbow on its wooden surface.
    “I’m here to see Lazurte,” Meena said to the man at the bar.
    “Who’s your friend?” he asked.
    “A friend. Now get Lazurte.”
    “I’m busy.”
    Meena grabbed his thumb, pulling it backward like a handle. “Don’t make me tell you again or I’ll use the Mist.” The promise of danger in whisper sounded nothing like her normal voice. The room became hushed as everyone stopped their conversations to watch what was transpiring.
    Yelping, he slammed his free fist against the wooden bar. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t realize who you were.” His back arched in pain as Meena pulled his thumb back a little further. Meena thrust him aside.
    “Tell Lazurte that we’ll wait in the usual spot, after we grab drinks.” Meena flitted behind the bar, any hint of danger evaporated. The man harumphed, brushing his grubby clothes, but ascended the stairs.
    “That’s horrible! Why did you do that?” I squeaked as soon as the man was out of earshot.
    “It’s the culture. He’d never respect me otherwise. I don’t have to like it; I just have to deal with it.” She plunked two glasses onto the counter. “Virgin or full?”
    “Virgin.”
    “Ah, come on, live a little.” She smiled wickedly, filling both glasses with the same liquid. She handed me one. I took a sip of the honey-colored beverage and coughed as a burning sensation trickled down my thought.
    “It’s a ginger rum cocktail,” Meena said.
    “All I taste is the rum,” I said, trailing after her through a door to the right of the stairs.
    “Good, isn’t it?”
    “How exactly do you know this Lazurte person?” I asked as we took a seat at a table in the empty room.
    “Childhood friends.” Meena kicked her feet up on top of the table and dangled her arm over the back of the chair.
    While we waited, I took out my daggers and wrapped Mist around them. Since I had started studying for my Exams, I hadn’t been working on Fortifying my daggers. In the wilderness, I’d need every advantage I could get.
    A tall man with short black hair, the ends slightly spiked upward, marched into the room. “Meena Ardile, welcome as always. And Hailey Troubade, quite the honor.”
    “Have we met?” I asked, surprised that he knew my name.
    “It’s my job to know things. That’s why you came here, is it not?” The way his nose crinkled when he smiled was a bit too disarming.
    Meena drew a nondescript brown bag from the folds of her skirt. Jingles commingled with the thud as it struck the table. “What do you know about Scholar Shezdon’s death?” she asked.
    “It wasn’t the guild.”
    “Wasn’t what guild?” I asked for a second time, but I realized the answer as soon as the question had left my mouth. He was referring to the criminals’ guild. Not only was he talking about them, he must be someone very important in that guild. How exactly did Meena know him?
    Neither acknowledged my question. “Who was it?” Meena asked.
    “I am told it was murder, but who ordered it?” He shrugged. “It’s anyone’s guess.”
    “I’m not paying for guesses.”
    “I don’t want your money. I’m not digging into this one. And you shouldn’t, either.” He wagged a finger at her.
    “Why?”
    “There are murmurings of White Knights,” Lazurte whispered.
    My eyes grew wide at another mention of the White Knights.
    Meena scoffed. “Children’s stories.”
    “And I’m not telling stories. Can I speak frankly in front of your friend?” he asked. At Meena’s nod, he continued. “I understand that this Shezdon was important to you, but this is too big, even for the daughter of Garth. There’s nothing to be gained by rattling the Weavers. Your place there is too