Wintertide Read Free

said.
    “A week? Why so early?” Hadrian asked.
    “If you were living in a monastery for ten months a year, wouldn’t you show up early for Wintertide?”
    Hadrian grabbed his swords and the two moved down the hall. Royce picked the lock of a weathered door and slid it open. On the far side of the room, two candles burned on a small table set with plates, glasses, and a bottle of wine. A man, dressed in velvet and silk, stood before a wall mirror, checking the tie that held back his blond hair and adjusting the high collar of his coat.
    “Looks like he was expecting us,” Hadrian said.
    “Looks like he was expecting someone,” Royce clarified.
    “What the—” Startled, Albert Winslow spun around. “Would it hurt to knock?”
    “What can I say?” Royce flopped on the bed. “We’re scoundrels and thieves.”
    “Scoundrels certainly,” Albert said, “but thieves? When was the last time you two stole anything?”
    “Do I detect dissatisfaction?”
    “I’m a viscount. I have a reputation to uphold, which takes a certain amount of income—money that I don’t receive when you two are idle.”
    Hadrian took a seat at the table. “He’s not dissatisfied. He’s outright scolding us.”
    “Is that why you’re here so early?” Royce asked. “Scouting for work?”
    “Partially. I also needed to get away from the Winds Abbey. I’m becoming a laughing stock. When I contacted Lord Daref, he couldn’t lay off the Viscount Monk jokes. On the other hand, Lady Mae does find my pious reclusion appealing.”
    “And is she the one who…” Hadrian swirled a finger at the neatly arranged table.
    “Yes. I was about to fetch her. I’m going to have to cancel, aren’t I?” He looked from one to the other and sighed.
    “Sorry.”
    “I hope this job pays well. This is a new doublet and I still owe the tailor.” Blowing out the candles, he took a seat across from Hadrian.
    “How are things up north?” Royce asked.
    Albert pursed his lips, thinking. “I’m guessing you know about Medford being taken? Imperial troops hold it and most of the provincial castles except for Drondil Fields.”
    Royce sat up. “No, we didn’t know. How’s Gwen?”
    “I have no idea. I was here when I heard.”
    “So, Alric and Arista are at Drondil Fields?” Hadrian asked.
    “King Alric is but I don’t think the princess was in Medford. I believe she’s running Ratibor. They appointed her mayor, or so I’ve heard.”
    “No,” Hadrian said. “We just came through there. She was governing after the battle but left months ago in the middle of the night. No one knows why. I just assumed she went home.”
    Albert shrugged. “Maybe, but I never heard anything about her going back. Probably better for her if she didn’t. The Imps have Drondil Fields surrounded. Nothing is going in or out. It’s only a matter of time before Alric will have to surrender.”
    “What about the abbey? Has the Empire come knocking?” Royce asked.
    Albert shook his head. “Not that I know of. But like I said, I was already here when the Imperialists crossed the Galewyr.”
    Royce got up and began to pace.
    “Anything else?” Hadrian asked.
    “Rumor has it that Tur Del Fur was invaded by goblins. But that’s only a rumor, as far as I can tell.”
    “Not a rumor,” Hadrian said.
    “Oh?”
    “We were there. Actually, we were responsible.”
    “Sounds…interesting,” Albert said.
    Royce stopped his pacing. “Don’t get him started.”
    “Okay, so what brings you to Aquesta?” Albert asked. “I’m guessing it’s not to celebrate Wintertide.”
    “We’re going to break Degan Gaunt out of the palace dungeon, and we’ll need you for the usual inside work,” Royce said.
    “Really? You do know he’s going to be executed on Wintertide, don’t you?”
    “Yeah, that’s why we need to get moving. It would be bad if we were late,” Hadrian added.
    “Are you crazy? The palace? At Wintertide? You’ve heard about this little wedding