A Meeting in the Depths

"Expected," I said.

Merrick exhaled through his nose, setting his drink down with a soft clink. The dim lantern light flickered over the worn wood of the table, catching in the deep-set lines of his face. He looked older than the last time I had seen him. Or maybe it was just the hour.

"Whatever you stole," he muttered, voice low, "they're desperate to get it back. The Council's already questioning people."

I lifted an eyebrow. "I didn't steal anything," I corrected. "I took something they should have never had."

His smirk was unimpressed, sharp at the edges. "That distinction won't matter when they string you up."

I didn't dignify the comment with a response. Merrick's dramatics were a bad habit of his, one that masked the fact that he cared a little too much for a man in his line of work.

Instead, I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest. "Lorik."

Merrick stilled for half a second. Just long enough for me to notice.