Chapter 24 Ginger
Ginger
Ihastily wiped up spilled ale with a towel, hoping it wouldn’t leave a sticky smear. If I got to the messes quickly enough, before they started to dry, they were much easier to clean up.
My heartbeat thudded painfully in my ears, and I swallowed a wave of nausea. I loved ciders as much as the next folk, but the hangovers were brutal.
The smell of ale nearly made me gag.
“Another round, Ginger?” a human woman asked from the next table over.
I glanced at her over my shoulder and smiled. I hoped I didn’t look as sweaty as I felt. “Sure! Same thing?”
She glanced at her companion for confirmation. They nodded. “Yes. And stew, if you have it.”
“You’re in luck,” I said as I tucked the soggy towel into my apron. “Coming right up.”
I strode to the kitchen to prepare their order.
I scooped stew into two bowls—a smashed pumpkin and corn medley with a thick, rich broth. It looked appetizing, but the smell threatened to make me sick.
My thoughts churned instead of flowing in a straight line. I felt like I was simply going through the motions of my day, though my mind continued to wander. It was somewhere far away.
It could have been the sleepless night, but I didn’t necessarily feel tired.
I just felt… off. Aside from the hangover.
I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The ball was over… but what now? Life would just go back to normal? What was my new normal?
“You alright, boss?” Tandor asked as he shouldered past me to grab a bowl of stew for his own table.
“Yep. Why?”
“You’ve been filling those bowls for a while now.”
I set the ladle down with a thunk and scrubbed the heel of my hand over my forehead. “Just a bit off today.”
He chuckled. “You need to try some of Kizzi’s hangover tea blend—it’s magical. Literally. I feel right as rain.”
“And you didn’t bring me any?” I asked grumpily.
He stepped around me and back into the dining area, bowl of stew in hand. “Sorry, I forgot. Next time!”
Tea sounded wonderful right now—tea of any kind. But I didn’t want to bother Kizzi. I was sure she was still on edge from Raine’s dalliance around town last night.
The blue dragon had returned on her own and was simply waiting on the porch of Tandor’s cottage when the folk woke up this morning, sheltered from the storm. The creature stayed outside instead of going in, which was very unlike her.
I was just glad she returned safely.
The dragons were becoming braver and braver as the days passed, and while it was heartwarming to see them growing into themselves, it was also terrifying to watch them venture further.
As they grew and changed, I wrote down every single detail in my dragon journal, but the changes still felt staggering.
It was almost like they didn’t need us anymore—they could fill their days with their own activities.
I sniffled, swiping the back of my hand over my eyes.
My Brambleby often explored with his siblings, but he still hadn’t shown any signs of manifesting a magical power. No flames, no ice, no water, nothing. And still very little energy.
But I loved him, and he was the most perfect creature in the entire realm—magic be damned.
Magic was overrated anyway.
I placed the ales and bowls of stew on a tray and hoisted it onto my shoulder, careful to keep it level, and marched back to the table.
The dining room seemed darker than before. Perhaps another storm was forming outside, obscuring the light of the dual suns.
“Congratulations, by the way,” the human said as I dropped off her lunch and turned to help the next customer.
“Huh?”
“Miss Moonvale. Very impressive!”
I smiled tightly. “Oh. Right. That. Thank you.”
“It was a fierce competition,” she said.
“It sure was,” I agreed, anxious for the conversation to end. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk—the words rattled around painfully in my sore head.
“Think you’ll compete again next year to hold the title?”
“Hmm,” I murmured noncommittally. “We’ll see.”
I couldn’t think that far ahead, I was simply hoping to survive the day so I could return home and lay down.
When I meandered back to the kitchen for a short reprieve, a steaming mug was sitting on the counter atop a small scrap of paper with my name on it in an elegant scrawl. I poked my head out of the kitchen to find Tandor in conversation with Daine, the mothman from the grocery store.
I smiled. I supposed he had brought me some of Kizzi’s hangover tea after all and had lied about it to surprise me. Typical Tandor.
The warmth of the mug seeped into my palms like a comforting hug as I lifted it to my face. I sniffed the liquid. It smelled sweet and herbal, like berries and basil, perhaps. With an edge of something sharp. Something magical.
I shrugged. If it worked for Tandor, it would surely work for me. I took a small sip.
Not the best tea I had ever tasted, but certainly acceptable. I had no urge to gag.
I took another drink, larger this time. It warmed my throat and settled comfortably into my roiling stomach. I instantly felt better.
Bless you, Kizzi, wherever you are.
After draining the mug to its dregs, I felt almost back to normal.
“Thanks,” I said to Tandor as we crossed paths later.
“For what?” he asked.
I smiled and shook my head. Tandor and his games. “Never mind.”