Winter's Reach (The Revanche Cycle Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

jaunty reel of lute song rushed to greet Felix as he stepped inside. He wiped his boots on the muddy thatch mat just inside the door, while his eyes adjusted to the flood of lantern light from every knife-scarred wooden table and bar shelf. The inn’s common room was rough but friendly, mostly dockhands coming in to relax and spend their pay after a hard day’s hauling. Some of the men played
primiera
, shouting, tossing tarnished coins, and slapping their bad cards down on the ale-stained wood, while others simply got down to the serious business of drinking. Nobody gave Felix a second glance as he made his way to the edge of the crowded room, finding an empty table and a rickety chair to sit in.
    A barmaid meandered over. Heavy rouge streaked her shallow cheeks, the color of a sunburn in the lantern light, and Felix could make out the faint ravages of pox scars under the pigment.
    “Evening, Zoe,” he said with a smile. “How’s the pheasant tonight?”
    “Oh, you don’t want that,” she said, leaning in with a theatrical whisper and putting her hand to the side of her mouth. “The cook’s been fearsome sick tonight and coughing up a storm back there. How about you let me bring you a hunk of bread from the pantry? It’s yesterday’s, but it’s still perfectly good.”
    “You are a marvel and a beauty, as always,” he said.
    “And you’ve got a devil’s tongue, you have. I’ll let you-know-who know you’re here.”
    She tapped her finger against the side of her nose, winked, and slipped into the crowd. Felix leaned back in his chair and soaked in the music and the swirl of conversation around him. The anonymity felt as warm as the hearth fire. It was nice to disappear for a while, and try to forget the wolves at the door.
    Not much later, as he bit into a crusty chunk of bread, a young woman in a white linen tunic and a heavy apron appeared at the edge of the crowd. Her rust-red hair was done in a braided twist, and she flashed a brilliant smile when she caught his eye. She held up five fingers on one hand, two on the other, and disappeared back behind the bar.
    Felix waited seven minutes before he slipped outside.
    He strolled around the building, hands in his pockets, and tried to look nonchalant as he glanced over his shoulder. Behind the inn was a narrow alley where the cobblestones glistened under a spray of mist. He was halfway down the passageway when hands darted from a shadowed alcove, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into the darkness.
    His alarm gave way to sudden heat as warm lips pressed against his, hands stroking his shoulders and curling in his hair. He wrapped his arms around the woman’s waist and pulled her close.
    “Renata,” he breathed, kissing at her chin, her throat, whispering her name as the tip of his tongue flicked against her earlobe.
    Renata opened his shirt, fingers urgent as she tugged his collar to one side, while his hand slipped beneath her tunic and fumbled at the laces of her thin linen shift. His fingers slid past the laces, sneaking under the filmy fabric, and she bit at his neck as his fingertips caressed the soft curve of her breast.
    “Did you talk to him?” she murmured, tugging at his belt. Felix nodded, quickly, bending down to kiss his way along her collarbone. Every touch of her hand burned under his skin, stoking the fires in the pit of his stomach.
    “I leave tomorrow,” he whispered. “Back in two weeks, no more than three.”
    Felix’s belt clattered to the cobblestones, and her hand slipped inside his leggings. Her slender fingers curled around his hardness and drew a strangled gasp from his throat.
    “Renata, we—we shouldn’t—”
    “What’s the matter?” she whispered, giving him a fiery smile as her fingers slowly stroked up and down. “Afraid someone’s going to catch the heir to the Banco Rossini fucking a barmaid?”
    “No, but—”
    She clasped her hand around the back of his neck and squeezed, hard, as she lifted one