This is from Quenching the Blade, book two of The Forging Legends.

“I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I see you’ve taken care of that yourself.” He loomed over my chair, studying me to see how the half bottle of drink affected my senses. He would be disappointed. “I’ve yet to see you in person up until now. Heard you were small, but…I pictured you a little taller.”
Maintaining my silence, I offered him a cool look. This big, bearded man did not come to buy me a drink, nor did he come to make accusations. That meant he came for something worse.
“Drinking alone? More than one person has put a price out on your head, wouldn’t think you’d want to drink alone.” He shifted to block any exit.
Ah. The prices on my head were something of common rumors, but not the sort of thing people talked about so openly, unless, of course, they wanted to collect one. I appraised him again. He was a big man and it would be a huge mess to deal with him here. It would be nice if I could prove to my friends that I could make it through an evening in a tavern without a riot in my wake.
“Mayhap you’re right.” I ceded as I pushed back from the table to stand. Perhaps I could make it past him and out into the night without a scene.
“Here.” Before I could protest or reject him, he clasped a wide hand around my wrist as though to help me rise.
Something pricked into the soft flesh on the underside of my arm. In the same moment, my magic felt the poison spreading under my skin.
I smiled my thanks, slipping a dagger free. As I straightened, I shoved the blade between two ribs, into his heart. The muscle clenched around the foreign object once and then his weight slouched into me. He smelled like soap and horse sweat. Twisting as I pulled the dagger free, I shifted so the dead man sank into my chair. I wiped the blade on his cloak, letting the fabric fall to conceal the dark stain spreading over his shirt. Sweeping a look over the tavern, everyone was drinking and talking as before. No one noticed our exchange. The lamplight grew brighter and the faces before me blurred.
Pushing through the throng of patrons, I fought my way out to the crisp night air—I had to get away from the smell of sweat, drink, and tavern food. Pulling clean air in through my nose, I caught myself on my knees, fighting back the urge to vomit. Gritting my teeth on a curse, I waited for my magic to finish off whatever that man put into my arm.


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