Eli was still staring when Mellinor jerked beneath him, whirling him around to face Miranda, who was dressed in one of her standard riding suits, a deep blue one this time, with her red curls pulled up in a severe ponytail and a deep scowl on her face.
She folded her arms over her chest as Eli smiled at her. “What were you looking at just now?”
“Absolutely nothing of consequence,” Eli said.
Miranda’s look told clearly how much she believed that, but before she could say anything, Gin poked his head in the front door. “Sparrow’s headed toward Izo’s.”
Miranda shook her head and grabbed a handful of Mellinor’s water.
“Where are we going now?” Eli said, but Miranda didn’t answer. She just dragged him, water and all, out the door and into the dirt street beyond.
• • •
Miranda marched into Izo’s hall, leaving a wet trail on the grimy stone as she dragged a water-bound Eli behind her. Sparrow was already waiting for her. His drab clothes were gone, replaced by his usual finery, now a green silk coat covered with a short blue cape that set off his eyes in a way that was obviously planned. He looked impossibly smug, as always, but his expression was somewhat tempered by the sight of their prize being flung around like a wet towel. Miranda paid him no attention. She stopped when she reached the middle of the hall, slamming Eli down on his knees before Izo’s empty throne.
Sparrow leaned over. “Miranda, dearest,” he whispered. “Perhaps it is not the best idea to bring the object of a negotiation to the negotiation.”
“The only spirit I trust him with is Mellinor,” Miranda said through gritted teeth. “He’s not leaving my sight. And don’t call me dearest.”
“She can get very touchy,” Eli said, his voice somewhat burbled by the watery prison sloshing at his chin.
Sparrow gave him a dashing smile. “The greatest thief in the world. It is quite the honor to meet you, Mr. Monpress.”
Eli grinned back. Miranda glowered and snapped her fingers, giving Mellinor a nudge that sent Eli’s head back underwater.
“Don’t encourage him,” she said pointedly.
She let Eli bubble a bit before bringing him up again. “I told you,” she said quietly, glaring down at the thief. “You’re here because I can’t leave you alone, not because we like your company, so keep your big mouth closed.” She straightened up, pushing a stray curl out of her face. “Honestly, what part of ‘prisoner’ don’t you understand?”
“Oh, I understand,” Eli said with a wet grin. “I’ve just never been in agreement with the concept.”
Miranda rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, or stick him underwater again, the iron gate rattled as Izo entered the room. He was dressed far finer than before, with a scarlet silk jacket over polished chain mail and a black cape edged extravagantly in gold thread. Miranda grimaced. He looked like every tacky minor lord in the Council district of Zarin, which was probably his intent. He was grinning like a cat as he stalked over to his chair, flanked on one side by the thin man in black, Sezri, and on the other by the enormous brawler with the ever-present cape over his shoulders, the man called Sted.
“Well,” Izo said, settling down into his throne. “Well, well, well. Let it not be said that Izo doesn’t deliver. Monpress kneels before me while his pet swordsman lies unconscious in my infirmary. I hope you understand now, friends, the power of the Bandit King. I have given you the uncatchable thief on a platter, as promised. Now we’ll discuss the details of how you mean to hold up your end of the bargain.”
Miranda started to point out how they had been the ones doing the actual catching, but Sparrow cut her off.
“Of course,” he said, “we could not have asked for a better outcome, and the Council always keeps its bargains. We will leave for Zarin first thing tomorrow, and I will return personally to hand you your invitation to the Council within the month, King Izo.”
Sparrow looked up, obviously expecting a smile at this new title, but Izo wasn’t smiling. He lounged back on his throne, his eyes lidded and dark as he looked Sparrow over.
“No, no, pretty messenger bird,” Izo said slowly. “That’s not how this works. I may be king, but I’ll always be a bandit, and bandits don’t get to be kings by blindly trusting the word of Council dogs. No member of the Monpress party leaves my camp until I have the writ from the Council acknowledging my kingship in my hand.”
“My lord,” Sparrow said, his voice buttery and soft. “That’s simply not possible. It would take two weeks at least for me to return to Zarin. Without Monpress, it could take months to convince the Council to act, even for someone as connected as Sara.”