Luck was with him. Yordan discovered an inn two streets over that was open and boisterous, which meant it was popular. And popular usually included decent victuals, as well as clean beds.

            When he entered, the smell of alcohol, unwashed bodies, and wood smoke assailed him. But there were also the delectable smells of meat pies and roasted fowl. He scanned the large room for any sign of Farley, but the man wasn’t there. However, that didn’t mean one or two of his henchmen weren’t. Fortunately, they only knew Ravenelle from sight. He wouldn’t raise any suspicions. Still, he had to keep an eye out for the procurer.

            Shuffling over to the nearest empty table, he waited for a server to confront him. It didn’t take long.

            “What is your preference, sir?” The young woman who approached him gave him a flirty smile, which told him she had things to offer that weren’t on the menu.

            “I am in need of sustenance. What can I get for a coin?” Reaching into his cloak pocket, he produced the last bronze.

            The woman eyed it. “A meat pie or half a roasted game hen. That also comes with one serving of your choice of drink.” She’d automatically labeled him as an outsider, and not one of the locals. Had he been a regular, Yordan figured the offering would have been greater.

            Shoving the coin back into his pocket, he changed it into silver and drew it back out. “Very well. How much for this?”

            The woman’s face lit up. “Oh, much more, kind sir.”

            “Can it get me two meat pies, two game hens, and a tankard of cider? I need to catch the next coach leaving town and want to take the provisions with me.”

            “Aye!” She bobbed her head and tried to pluck it from his fingers. Yordan quickly palmed the money, preventing her from taking it.

            “And I want two raspberry scones, if you have them.”

            “Will you accept lemon curd?”

            He flashed her a smile. “Two lemon curd scones it is. Oh, and one more thing. Any idea when the next coach will be by?”

            “They arrived around seven this evening. This inn is one of their layovers. The drivers usually take their breakfast around six in the morning and head out soon after.”

“Thank you.” Handing her the silver, he watched as she practically skipped back to the kitchen.

            When it arrived, his meal was served all wrapped in cloth and packed into a wooden crate. An old clay pitcher missing its handle held the cider. The smell of all the food made his stomach gurgle. Thanking the woman, he exited the inn.

            The snow had ceased falling. The clouds parted slightly, enough to allow the moonlight to reflect off the whiteness. He was able to track his own footprints left in the powder back to the livery stables.

            Yordan stopped just short of reaching the building when he saw the open doorway. He’d closed those doors. He’d swear on it.

            His eyes dropped to the ground where signs of a scuffle were evident, even in the dim light. Those weren’t footprints caused by someone coming in or out with their horse. Neither had they been there when he’d left earlier.

            He worked his magick, turning the food, crate and all, into small rocks to stuff into his pockets. Bracing himself, he entered the stables and went directly to the stall where he’d left Ravenelle.

            Although he’d braced himself to not find her there, the discovery of the empty slot still sent a gut shot through him. The blanket remained, which he quickly reverted back to straw to avoid further suspicion.

            “All right, my Ravenelle. Where did you go?” He didn’t ask who with. He already had good reason to believe Farley had somehow discovered their resting place. How, he couldn’t fathom, but it had to have been sudden, or else he knew she would have made herself invisible and escaped.

            Yordan’s head jerked up. Maybe she did. But if that is what happened, why would there be signs of a scuffle outside?

            He hurried back out to the front of the building to study the tracks. Bending down, he placed a hand in one depression and concentrated. Yes, some of these were from her. He checked another print, a larger one that spoke of a boot. It wasn’t Farley’s, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t have been one of the man’s paid accomplices.

            He checked the direction where the tracks were heading. From what little he knew of the town, they appeared to be leading away from the main square. It wouldn’t surprise him if they were going to someone’s private abode.

            Farley’s home.

            It would make sense.

            But first, he had to make sure that when he went after Ravenelle, he didn’t attract the man’s attention, or the attention of any of his friends. He was pretty certain by now those men had been given a description of him. “Then I will have to change my appearance,” he murmured with a hard smile. “If they have harmed you, Ravenelle, I swear there will be no end to what I will do to them. They do not have the faintest knowledge of what I can put them through.”