“Where the hell did you find this?”

The only thing I know of the hooded figure is his voice, his voice that is often dripping with downright annoyance that he reserves especially for speaking with me.

Grinning, I place my booted feet upon the crappy wooden table infront of us and he has to spring the bag out of my disastrous way before I can crush its contents.

“Well I obviously bought it at the market, right between the fruit and vegetable section.” My attempts at humour seem to be lost upon him for he growls in response. If I could see his eyes, which I can’t, I’m sure they would be cutting a thousand daggers in my direction.

He clutches the bag closer to his chest, every so often taking another peek inside afraid that whatever is in the bag has dissapeared.

“I don’t see why your holding onto the bag so tightly, it’s not as though he’s in any position to run from you now.” Smiling sweetly I place my feet back on the floor before calling for a drink from the barmaid.

“I would not be surprised if one day someone is handing me your head in a bag Elena.” His tone is warning, and if it were any one else saying it I would’ve almost thought he cared. Almost.

“Yes well luckily for you that day is not today.” The barmaid hands me my drink, and taking a deep swig I let the bitter contents run down my throat, trying to ignore the swirls of dread in my gut.

I can feel his gaze on me, assessing and calculating in that annoying way of his and I take another drink to avoid looking back.

“You still haven’t told me where you found the King’s head.” He says, and I can tell he is not fond of letting the idea go anytime soon.

“If you really must know I found it on my doorstep. Encased in a red velvet box addressed specifically to me.” The air in the room drops, going cold with the realisation he is now feeling.

“That means somebody knows it was you that killed the king.” He says, his voice a low whisper, as though saying the words speak them into existence.

“Yes.” I say grabbing my drink with a nervous swallow, unable to meet his shadowed face. “Somebody knows.”