Garlands and Gauntlets

1. Theo

Chapter one

Theo

H earthwynd is loud.

Not just loud in my ears, but loud…everywhere. Shouts from the market, clattering hooves on cobblestones, bells ringing. Ribbons of red and green hang from every flickering streetlamp, garlands of holly wound up with them. Hearthwynd’s citizens wear brightly colored scarves, kids play. And it smells like pine and mulled wine and…

I’m hungry.

So hungry.

My stomach growls, and I pause to get my bearings. Ever since I left Greymarch Manor three days ago–since my own half-brother put a signed death warrant in my hands and told me to never return–I’ve been trying to save as much coin as I can. My father…or, I guess, the man I thought I was my father until my tusks grew in…he taught me in warcraft, adventuring, sure. But I’ve never made a single coin myself.

Now I’m on the streets.

And starving.

The smell of roasted meat draws me down a cobblestone street, and I follow my nose toward the source of that wonderful scent. I end up finding a small tavern tucked between two crooked buildings, like it was wedged in somewhere it didn’t belong. The noise shifts here, laughter erupting from inside, and I know I should lie low, but at this point I’m going to take a meal where I can get one.

Heads turn as I duck through the low doorway, my head almost bumping the threshold. It happens everywhere–at seven feet tall, with wild red hair, olive green skin, and a braided beard, I’m hard to miss–so I don’t let it bother me. I nod politely to all the people who have now gone silent and staring, and I make my way to the bar.

He glances up at me.

Does a double-take.

Waits.

“Uh,” I start. “Greetings.”

“What can I get for ya?” he asks, like I was supposed to understand the question without him even saying it out loud.

“Um…” I can’t stop stumbling over my words. “Something warm. And filling.” I fumble with my coin pouch, wincing at how little I have left. I took everything I could scrounge up from my room, a small sum for any average person in Hearthwynd, but it will only get me so far. “Please?”

The bartender scoffs at me (I’ve noticed people tend to have that reaction to me around here) and I’m sure he’s about to deny me service–but a voice comes from behind me.

“Put it on my tab.”

I glance over my shoulder and there he is–my savior. He’s an elf, or maybe a half-elf from the looks of it, with glossy dark brown hair that falls in one of those edgy half-shaved styles. He’s dressed all in black, rings glistening on every finger of his left hand, cuffs up the entirety of his pointed left ear.

He’s very pretty.

It just makes me more awkward.

And that gets a million times worse when he comes closer, and I can see that his eyes are bright, brilliant green .

“Whatever he wants–food and a good drink,” the elf says. He’s shorter than he looked at first, probably about five feet, if not less. He sidles up next to me and leans against the bar. “You know I’m good for it.”

The bartender doesn’t seem convinced, and I know I need to be careful. Before he passed away, my adopted father always told me people in Hearthwynd would try to take advantage of my good nature.

So I do my best attempt at a scowl. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

He tilts his head, grinning. “We haven’t, but it’s the season of giving and you looked lost. You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

“That obvious?” I ask, wishing I sounded less awkward.

“Painfully,” he deadpans. He extends his hand and I can’t help but notice his long, slender fingers. “Name’s Vaelin. And you are…?”

“Theo.” I hesitate, unsure if I should say more.

I can’t exactly give the name Greymarch–Theodore Greymarch is dead, according to the new Lord Greymarch.

The bartender returns with a plate piled high with roasted meat, thick slices of bread, and a steaming mug of cider. The smell fills my lungs, and my stomach growls so loudly that I think the people at the next table might’ve heard it.

“Eat up,” Vaelin says, sliding the plate toward me with a grin. “Can’t have you passing out on my watch.”

I hesitate for a moment, the etiquette my adoptive father drilled into me warring with the gnawing hunger in my gut. He was always gentle about it, but he was clear that people would expect me to act like a monster–because people in Hearthwynd don’t trust orcs. But then I pick up the knife and fork and dig in, letting the warmth of the food drown out my embarrassment.

Vaelin watches me, his elbow propped on the bar and his chin resting in his hand. “You’re surprisingly dainty with that fork,” he says.

I clear my throat, make sure to swallow. “Well, I’m a gentleman,” I say.

He gives me a half-smile. “And what brings a gentleman like you to the Frosted Flagon?”

I glance at him, swallowing a mouthful of bread. “Passing through,” I say vaguely.

He arches a dark brow. “Passing through? Big guy like you doesn’t look like a tourist.”

“I’m…working through some stuff,” I admit, choosing my words carefully.

“Aren’t we all?”

I study him for a moment, unsure of how much to share. His green eyes glint in the flickering light, sharp but not unkind, and there’s something about the way he holds himself that makes him hard to read.

“What about you?” I ask, turning the question around. “Do you always hang around taverns looking for strangers to buy dinner for?”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Only the interesting ones.”

I nearly choke on my cider. “Interesting?”

He gestures at me with a lazy flick of his hand. “You’re hard to miss, Theo. Big, green.” He looks pointedly at my beard. “Plus the long hair and beard all braided and decked out…what’s the story there?”

I glance down at my beard, realizing too late how it must look to someone like him—someone sleek and polished, with rings and cuffs that glint in the dim light. “I like the way it looks,” I say, feeling defensive. “Is that…strange?”

“Strange?” Vaelin echoes, his grin widening. “No. It’s charming.”

I feel my cheeks heat, and I quickly take another bite of meat to avoid responding. “Why do you make that seem like it’s a bad thing?”

“Because it isn’t always good to stand out in Hearthwynd,” he says. “The Yule decorations are nice, I know–but this city will chew you up and spit you out if you’re not careful.”

“Is that why you’re offering to help me? Because you think I can’t handle it?”

He smirks, leaning closer. “Oh, I’m sure you can handle plenty. But Hearthwynd doesn’t play fair, and something tells me you’re not great at watching your back.”

I scowl, though it’s half-hearted. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

“No,” he says, his grin sharpening. “But you’re a bit of an open book, and that’s dangerous around here.”

By the time I finish my meal, the tavern has grown louder, the laughter and chatter blending with the clink of tankards and the crackle of the fire. Vaelin watches me push the empty plate away, his head tilted slightly like he’s still trying to figure me out.

“Well, Theo,” he says, leaning back in his seat, “how about I show you around? This city can be tricky for someone like you.”

I blink, caught off guard. “Someone like me?”

“Like I said–big, earnest. The kind of guy who looks like he’d help an old lady cross the street just because she smiled at him.”

I frown, unsure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult. “I would help an old lady cross the street just because she smiled at me.”

“Exactly,” he says, grinning. “Which is why you need someone like me.”

I hesitate, the warning bells in my head clashing with the fact that Vaelin is, well…cute. And small. I could probably pick him up and toss him across the room if I needed to.

“What’s in it for you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

His grin sharpens. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for lost puppies.”

It feels off—too easy, too smooth—but I don’t have many options right now. And for all his sharp words and teasing, there’s something about Vaelin that makes me want to believe him.

“Alright,” I say finally, nodding. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

Vaelin’s grin widens, and he pushes off the bar, leading me toward the door. “You’ll thank me later, big guy. Trust me.”

As I follow him into the night, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve just made a deal with a very charming devil.