"Define fun."
"We lay down rules," Will said, ignoring the question. "Like we used to. No swords. No magic. No killing, unless someone really insists on it."
"We are in a bandit bar," Lyan pointed out. "They are unlikely to honor any rules that don't include the words 'your purse' and 'hand it over.'"
Will's smile turned a little feral.
"That," he said, "is the fun part."
He didn't have to raise his voice. The tavern was full of people who had been eavesdropping since the word 'prince' first slipped out of Will's mouth, and every mention of "weak" and "ten girls" after that had sharpened their ears further.
A hulking man with arms like tree trunks and a nose badly set at least twice pushed back from a nearby table. Three of his companions followed—one wiry with a knife at his belt, one woman with her hair in tight braids and a grin that showed too many teeth, and a lanky fellow whose cloak didn't quite hide the glint of a wand at his hip.
