Phoebe's POV
"No, I just want to come along and see what's happening. I swear I won't take off." When I realized Harold wasn't planning to join them, excitement bubbled up inside me.
I flashed him a grin, looped my arm through his, and gave it a teasing squeeze. "Come on, let me go. You know I'll behave."
Alistair and Malcolm shared one of those looks.
They both knew Harold was putty in my hands when I pulled out the charm offensive.
Like clockwork, he folded almost immediately.
"Fine, you can come for the ride, but no wandering off. We're at the border here. Mercenary crews are crawling all over this place. Cross paths with them, and you're asking for serious trouble."
I knew it wasn't that Harold was afraid of those mercenaries. The real problem, which he'd explained to me before, was that they had zero moral compass. Murder and theft were just another Tuesday for them, and violence was their favorite pastime.
