Free DarykHunter by Denise A. Agnew Page B

Ketera Aldrancos. Ketera, Minilos.”
    “Charmed.” Minilos held out his meaty hand. He captured Ketera’s small fingers and brought them to his lips for a smacking kiss. “Charmed indeed.”
    She jerked her hand back but didn’t reply to Minilos’ overwrought statement. “He can help us?”
    Minilos grinned. “I can help you with anything you need. I stake my golden reputation on it.”
    Her ire chilled but her eyes held suspicion. She glanced around. “We can’t talk about this here. What if someone hears us?”
    Dane grunted. “Not likely. We’ll keep our voices low. The very fact we’re in a tavern like this takes away any suspicion.”
    “Why do we need him?” Ketera asked.
    Dane’s smile became brittle. “Because he is an old friend with expertise.” He turned his attention back to the robust man. “Besides. He probably hasn’t had enough murder and mayhem to suit an old Daryk One, eh?”
    Dane realized in an instant he shouldn’t have mentioned Minilos’ age. He was too damn sensitive about it.
    The older man grimaced. “Just because I don’t patrol with you feckless young ones anymore doesn’t mean I can’t pound sense into a cretin.”
    Shaking his head, Dane said, “I can see you have your hands full here. Leave the battles outside of Grimnald Castle to me.”
    Minilos nodded, apparently placated. “So tell me, what goes on outside the castle walls these days? I burn for news.”
    “The other castles are still making up their minds which side they’re on. Armen’s side or Drakus’ side.”
    “How many castles are on this continent,” Ketera asked.
    Dane counted them off on one hand. “Grimnald, Austos, which is in the Ithaycan desert, Leadios, which is in the glacier lands of Imekland, and Bardannia, which is also in Imekland. I think most of the castles will maintain their honor and see that stealing women from another country is not the way to do this.”
    Minilos snorted. “Perhaps we can convince Armen we need to send an emissary to Magonia to talk sense into them. That we need to mix our lands and people to survive. But I doubt it will work. Magonians have no sense.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Ketera asked with undeniable rancor.
    Dane smiled. “Ketera is from Magonia.”
    Minilos looked bashful for a second then his gaze took in Ketera with a whole new light. “Really? My apologies, my dear.”
    Dane threw her a teasing glance. “She’s very sensitive, Minilos. Watch your tongue.”
    Minilos winked. “Have you been watching yours?”
    Dane laughed softly as Ketera’s cheeks went red.
    Minilos sipped delicately from his own tankard in direct contrast to his usual copious consumption. “Forgive my rough ways, little lady. I’ve had a lot of work to do lately with this tavern. Fights almost every night. Drunken bastards wrecking my property. It’s hell, I tell you. Hell.”
    Dane grinned. “Which one?”
    The hairy man groaned. “All of them. Perhaps the deepest level. Seventeen, I think.”
    “Right. And when are you going to find a real job?”
    Minilos possessed a good sense of humor, thank Draconus. He glared at Dane with mock seriousness. “Running this tavern is the best occupation I’ve ever had. Keeps me out of trouble.”
    “Uh-huh. If you call drunken brawls every night peace and quiet.”
    Minilos quirked one eyebrow. “And that’s only the Daryk Ones who come in here every night to find drink and a woman. I swear I don’t remember feeling the need to fight as you young ones do. Is it something new?”
    Dane rolled his gaze to the ceiling in mock disgust then looked at Ketera. “New he says. That is a lie and you know it. There is nothing new in Dragonia.”
    Minilos looked morose as he stared into his tankard. “Are the rumors true, Dane?” He lowered his voice to a whisper that Dane could barely discern. “Are rogue Daryk Ones threatening this castle?”
    “Keep your voice down.”
    Minilos lowered his voice even more. “Tell me. Is it