Star of the Morning by Lynn Kurland

score, sitting on the far side of the chamber, watching them nervously. Morgan looked at him openly and he turned away. She lifted her eyebrow, then shrugged to herself. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Perhaps it was one of Nicholas’s lads, come to make certain she was safe. She sighed. Judging by the number of escorts he’d sent her in the form of her usual companions, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find that was the case.
    The platters were taken away and they settled down to an afternoon with mugs of ale and conversation. There came a time, of course, when Glines pulled out his cards and smiled pleasantly. Adhémar grumbled as he investigated the depths of his plundered purse.
    Paien leaned over. “He’s tolerable,” he murmured behind his cup.
    â€œAre you thinking for yourself, or for one of your girls?” she whispered back.
    He looked at her with wide eyes, then laughed. “Hard-hearted wench,” he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately. “Someday you will fall.”
    â€œPray you are alive to see it,” she grumbled.
    â€œI do, lovey, every night.” He chuckled a bit more and turned his attentions to Glines’s sleight of hand.
    Morgan did the same, marking Glines’s quite passable-looking face and his breathtaking cheating, Adhémar’s breathtaking face and his less-than-passable gaming—and the lad in the corner who was having a very difficult time blending in with rough company. It was taxing and required her full attention. That was just as well, for it took her mind off what was to come.
    Would she be able to get on that ship?
    She was beginning to wonder.
    Camid finished his ale eventually and set his cup down firmly. “Morgan, where are we off to?”
    â€œIstaur,” she said shortly.
    â€œAnd then where?”
    She chewed on her words, considered, then chewed a bit more. “North,” she said finally.
    â€œNorth?” Camid said, his ears perking up. “What mischief are we about?”
    â€œMischief of mine,” she offered, giving them all a very pointed opportunity to thank her for a pleasant afternoon and be on their way, Nicholas’s message aside.
    â€œMischief of yours is trouble of ours,” Camid said without hesitation. He stroked his long beard thoughtfully. “North, eh? I can think of many things to do on the way north.”
    â€œAye, well, don’t give it so much thought it sours your pleasant humor,” Paien said in a friendly fashion. “There will be time enough to discover what Morgan’s about and plan your own adventures as well. I daresay Morgan isn’t going to tell us until she’s ready.”
    â€œNorth?” Adhémar said with a frown. “There is quite a bit of north available after you land in Istaur.”
    Morgan shrugged. “I’ll find my way to it, I’m sure. Don’t feel obligated to travel with us.”
    Adhémar shrugged. “There is safety in traveling with other souls.”
    â€œIt is more difficult to find yourself robbed thusly,” she agreed.
    Or perhaps not.
    Morgan looked at Glines, who was leaning back in his chair, holding his cards in plain sight, and looking at Adhémar from under half-closed eyelids. Glines, at his most dangerous. Adhémar would not emerge from this encounter unscathed.
    â€œI’ll come along as well,” Adhémar said, hefting his further-lightened purse. “You might need me.”
    Morgan couldn’t imagine it, but instinct reared its ugly head again and she found she couldn’t discourage him. She hadn’t left him for dead and now she wasn’t stopping him from joining her crew.
    Unbelievable.
    Eventually, the afternoon waned and Morgan knew she could put off the inevitable no longer. She pushed her cup away and put her hands on the table—because she looked more in charge that way, not because she