Free A Heart So Fierce and Broken (The Cursebreaker Series) by Brigid Kemmerer

grudge, so he doesn’t shoe our horses. He probably charged Worwick a fair price, which to Worwick would be too much.
    Jodi passes our table again, her hand brushing against my arm. I entertain the thought of catching her fingers and drawing her back. It would be simple. Uncomplicated. I could lose myself further into the persona of Hawk, leaving Grey behind.
    When she turns, I meet her eyes, and she smiles.
    I offer one of my own, and she blushes.
    This should feel easy. It doesn’t. It feels like manipulation.
    I break eye contact and look back at my bread. “Nearly done?” I say to Tycho, and my voice is rough.
    He nods and pulls coppers from the pouch at his waist.
    The door at the front of the tavern swings open, and a group of men enter slowly. The tavern is too loud and crowded for them to garner much attention, but light glints on steel, and I catch a flash of red.
    I go still. My hand finds the knife.
    But it’s not a Royal Guard uniform. It’s the Grand Marshal’s enforcers. The leading man is older, with graying hair and a thick beard, a patch covering one eye. He’s trailed by three others.
    “Where is the blacksmith called Riley?” he announces, and there’s enough weight in his voice that conversation dulls to a murmur. Every head in the tavern turns to look at the corner where Riley sits.
    Riley shoves back his chair and stands. He’s an honest man, so he looks more confused than concerned. “I am Riley.”
    “You are accused of using magic to better your trade. You will come with us.”
    Riley falls back a step. “I don’t— I’ve never— I know no magic .”
    The guards have already begun surrounding him. The other men at the table have drawn away. All conversation has stopped.
    Riley continues to backpedal. Men get out of his way as if he’s diseased. One of the enforcers has a sword drawn.
    “I know no magic!” he cries. “I am a blacksmith!”
    The lead man gives a signal to the others, and the men move through the tables as if to cut off escape.
    “Hawk,” whispers Tycho. “Hawk—we have to—”
    I silence him with a look, but his eyes still plead. I don’t know if he wants me to intervene or surrender myself or something I can’t fathom, but I can do nothing. I cannot draw attention to myself. Not now.
    The one-eyed man seizes Riley’s forearm. “You are to come with us.”
    Riley jerks back. His face is red, from shame or fury or both. “I have done nothing wrong! You can’t seize peaceful citizens—”
    “We have our orders.” Another enforcer grabs his other arm.
    Riley looks around desperately, but the other patrons have cleared a wide path. “Will no one speak for me?”
    With a ruffle of skirts and defiance, Jodi sweeps past me. She’s inhaling to protest.
    I catch her arm and tug her back against me. We’re far enough in the corner that we haven’t drawn attention away from Riley, but if she keeps struggling, we will. “Jodi,” I whisper against her hair. “Let them take him peacefully.”
    She strains against my arm, but she has the good sense to keep her voice down. “He’s a good man.”
    “Then they’ll question him and let him go. He’ll lose a day of wages and earn a good story to tell over the next round of ale.”
    Across the table, Tycho’s eyes are wide. I must sound sure, because Jodi relaxes.
    Riley is struggling against the enforcers. He’s strong, and he gets an arm free.
    The one-eyed man drives a fist into his belly. Riley doubles over with a grunt and nearly falls to a knee. They get a grip on him again and half drag him to the doorway.
    “You can’t do this,” he wheezes. “I heard about the tailor in Lackey’s Keep. You can’t accuse good people.”
    The enforcers ignore Riley, yanking him forward impassively. When they reach the door, one of the men releases his arm to grab the handle.
    Riley whirls and grabs one of their weapons. I don’t know his motive, whether he thinks he’ll be able to fight his way free or defend