I snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know. Besides, you're not exactly in a position to talk.”

  Azurith raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

  I shot him a pointed look. “You charged in, destroyed all the crystals on that scorpion, and flatly ignored my warning about it exploding. What if you hadn’t been immune to the blast? You were standing directly in the middle of it. You could’ve been cooked. And for what? Dramatic effect? To make a point?”

  He tilted his head, conceding the argument with a faint nod. “I was operating under the correct impression that I was immune to that damage type. But… you’re right. If I’d been wrong, it would have killed me all the same.”

  His gaze flicked to Clover, and he shook his head. “That said, I’ve never met a paladin so… willing to allow such carnage.”

  A pitiful groan drew my attention to the bandit beneath Clover. She had apparently decided his arm looked better bent in the wrong direction. My stomach churned, and I quickly looked away.

  “These bandits were shooting to kill,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m sure plenty of newbie adventurers have already fallen to them. They won’t get sympathy from me just because consequences–in the form of Clover–finally caught up to them.”

  Clover straightened, turning to us with a huff. “I can hear you two.”

  Azurith stiffened, but I merely smiled. “I figured. We weren’t exactly whispering.”

  She studied us for a moment before striding over, her mace resting casually at her side. She raised an eyebrow at Azurith. “Got something to say?”

  He immediately shook his head. “No. Though, I am reminded of a phrase: ‘Nothing burns hotter than a woman’s wrath.’ My Aman used to say that, and after this, I finally understand what she meant.”

  Clover nodded approvingly. “Smart woman.” Then she turned to me, planting a fist on her hip. “I take it you have no complaints?”

  I grinned, dipping my head. “None at all–so long as that wrath isn’t directed at me. You look stunning, my lady. Rage really brings out the color in your eyes.”

  Her lips twitched upward, and she relaxed. “Good. You’ll see it often enough, so it’s fortunate you find it attractive.” She cupped my cheek, pulling me into a kiss. I sank into it, letting the world fall away, ignoring Azurith’s awkward shifting. When the bandit under my boot stirred again, threatening to pull us back to reality, I slammed him into the ground without breaking the kiss.

  Clover pulled back, amusement lighting her gaze as I shrugged. “I wasn’t about to stop for the likes of him.”

  Approval flashed in her expression before she patted my chest. “Smart man. But we can finish this later.” She gestured toward the remaining bandits. “We need to tie them up and head to Starkfell. There’s another cave to check, but I’ll need to restock in town first–and check on those refugees.”

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  I nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” Turning to Azurith, I added, “You mentioned a quest. I’m guessing you won’t be joining us?”

  He shook his head, though reluctance was evident. “I’d like to, but I’ve delayed too long. I need to report to the king. Perhaps afterward, I’ll make my way back to Starkfell. There’s something…troubling I need to investigate.”

  Clover straightened, her attention sharpening. “Troubling how?”

  Azurith grimaced. “I haven’t confirmed anything yet, but the tavern owner in Starkfell seem to have trouble keeping waitresses. They all disappear after a few weeks–without a trace.”

  Clover hissed, her expression darkening. “I knew that prick was bad news! He made my skin crawl anytime I was near him.”

  A chill ran down my spine as my imagination filled the gaps, painting a morbid picture.

  Innocent girls–maybe as young as Daedra–suffering under that man’s hand. Monsters like that were the worst kind, and if Azurith’s information was true, I’d relish the chance to snuff the light from his eyes.

  “You think he’s killing them?” I asked, stepping forward.

  Azurith shook his head. “No. That wouldn’t profit him.” He stared at me, then Clover for a long moment. The silence stretched for what felt like an age, before finally he continued. “He hires exclusively beastfolk women, typically from disadvantaged backgrounds. Women no one would miss.”

  His grim expression weighed heavily as he met my gaze. “If you get there before me, put that information to good use.” Something old and painful crept into his expression. “No mortal deserves to suffer what those women might be enduring.”

  Ice crawled up my neck, and Clover’s eyes flashed with lethal intent. “How do you know this? What’s your source?”

  Azurith studied her, weighing something I couldn’t see, before replying. “My source is one of the very women who escaped such a fate. I found her on the road, being chased by hooded figures. I dealt with them, and she told me dark things surround that tavern owner–the one who moved to Starkfell with the refugees.”

  Clover’s jaw tightened. “If anything like that is happening, we’ll put a stop to it. But how could he manage such a thing without anyone noticing? I know the mayor. Nikoli would never allow it, not after he fought to keep the beastfolk safe in the raids decades ago.”

  Azurith tipped his head. “Perhaps not, but the mayor is one man, overwhelmed trying to feed and house dozens of refugees. Their resources are dwindling by the day. The town is in chaos. Hiding something like this wouldn’t be difficult. After all, what’s one less beastfolk to the people of Starkfell? One less person to use precious resources.”

  Venom dripped from his words, and I bristled. “You think the original villagers are turning a blind eye on purpose?”

  If that was true, there’d be hell to pay.

  Azurith sighed. “I don’t know. I hope not. But tensions are high. They resent the strain on their food stocks.” His eyes flashed. “And people rarely handle ‘different’ well–especially when it disrupts their lives.”

  The ruby horns curling from his white hair caught the light, his hard gaze betraying too much personal experience with prejudice.

  I grimaced, “I hail from Dawncrest, and I hate to admit it, but you’re right. I’ve broken up too many brawls between travelers and villagers with imagined slights.”

  I’d learned early on who of Dawncrest were the less pleasant sorts and avoided them, only interacting when someone needed me to step in.

  I wished it didn’t happen as often as it did…