Chapter 16 · Dinner With The Devil

"Eat," Varric said. "Or don't. But one of you leaves this table with a deal, and the other doesn't leave at all."

The plate slid across the black wood. White porcelain. Steaming fish. And a thin, pearly sheen on the sauce that looked like a death sentence.

Kaela didn't touch hers. Her chair was jammed against mine. Under the table, her knee pressed hard into my leg. She was shaking. I could feel it through the denim.

"You're late," Varric said. He was already eating. Calm. Like this was a Sunday brunch and not a shakedown. "I ordered for you. Hope you don't mind."

"You poisoned it," I said.

"I seasoned it." He flashed a smile at Kaela. "One plate is clean. One isn't. I know which. You don't. That's the whole fun."

Kaela's hand stayed flat on the table. Knuckles white. "What do you want?"

"Direct. I like that about you, Kaela." Varric leaned back. Two guys in black stood behind him, hands hovering over their belts. Not guards. Debtblades. I recognized the ink on their necks—the same brand Kaela used to wear. "I want to fix your problem. That thing on your neck is ticking, love.