Chapter 11
Eleven
Vaskel had barely taken two steps inside the tavern when Lira emerged from the kitchen, loose strands of auburn hair sagging over her eyes and her cheeks flushed. Her brown work dress and the apron tied around it looked like they’d gone a few rounds with a sack of flour and lost dismally.
She held up a finger. “Don't say a word.”
Vaskel mimed buttoning his lips, as Sass sauntered across the room from where she’d been straightening chairs.
“Does this have anything to do with a new recipe?” The dwarf asked.
“How hard can it be to create a recipe?” Lira’s shoulders sagged. “My gran came up with her own recipes. I should be able to create one that doesn’t make Crumpet gag.”
Sass pressed her lips together for a beat, clearly stifling a laugh. “Is that wee beastie turning his nose up at your baked goods?”
Lira sniffed, twitching one shoulder. “He’s right. The ratios were all wrong, and the cookies were so dry it was like having all the moisture sucked from your mouth as you chewed.”
Sass crinkled her brown nose but walked to Lira and led her to a table. “You’re being too hard on yourself. No one said you needed to create new recipes. The ones we have work just fine.”
“I suppose so,” Lira muttered as she sank into a wooden chair.
Vaskel held up his crumpled paper bag. "I've got sweet rolls from Pip, if that helps."
Lira's expression softened slightly. “That helps, especially since I have nothing good to serve you.”
Sass took the bag and peered inside. “Two? You only got two?”
Vaskel didn’t meet her gaze. “I might have been waylaid by some folks.”
Sass held up a hand. “I do not want to hear that someone else ate sweet rolls intended for my belly.” She inhaled deeply. “Do I smell orange?”
“They’re orange spice sweet rolls,” Vaskel said. “Pip’s new creation.”
Lira slumped over, folding her arms on the table and resting her head on them. “See? Pip can create new recipes, and I’ll bet they’re perfect.”
Sass wasn’t able to reply because her mouth was already filled with orange, yeasty goodness, so she attempted to frown and shake her head. Finally, she managed, “‘Orrible.”
Lira narrowed her eyes, sitting up and snatching the last remaining roll from the bag.
She took a bite and her eyes fluttered shut as she moaned.
“They’re amazing. If I wasn’t marrying Korl, I’d marry these.
” Then she heaved out a frustrated sigh and stomped back toward the kitchen, the half-doors swinging violently in her wake.
Sass caught Vaskel's eye as she swallowed the rest of her roll and lowered her voice. “Why obsess over creating a new recipe now?”
Vaskel understood all too well the urge to control what you could when bigger things felt overwhelming. “I’ll talk to her.”
Sass licked the sugary glaze off her fingers. "Good luck to you.”
When Vaskel pushed through the swinging doors, he found more flour covering more surfaces and Crumpet and his raccoon friend forming an assembly line to move sad, pale cookies from the baking pan into the trash.
"Want to talk about it?" Vaskel asked, sliding a three-legged stool up to the massive central worktable.
"What's there to talk about?” She didn’t meet his eyes. “Baking is supposed to be what calms me, but it can’t even do that anymore.”
“Is this really about baking?” Vaskel said lightly. "Come on, Lira. What's really bothering you?"
She was quiet for a long moment, absently brushing flour from her apron. "What if it's a mistake?"
“The cookies?” Vaskel teased. “I think those were definitely a mistake.”
That earned him a dishtowel tossed in his direction, which he snagged deftly from the air. Crumpet chittered, hurling a loose cookie crumb at him. The winged creature might not have liked the cookies, but he was still defensive of Lira.
“Not the awful cookies.” Lira leaned against the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “The wedding.”
“You think marrying Korl is a mistake?” Vaskel's eyebrows rose. "The orc who rebuilt your oven, fixed your roof, and looks at you like you hung the moon and stars?"
A smile tugged at the corners of Lira’s mouth. “When you put it like that..."
"Lira." He leaned forward, his voice gentling. "Tell me one thing. When you think about waking up next to Korl every morning for the rest of your life, how do you feel?"
A satisfied sigh escaped her lips despite herself. "Safe. Happy. Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
"Then what's the problem? The runaway wedding? The gnome haberdasher who’s nominated himself wedding planner?”
“Yes, no, oh, I don't know.” She threw her hands up, and loose flour sifted down onto her hair. “All the wedding fuss has reminded me that this is a big deal, and a permanent one. After years of running with our crew, never staying in one place, never letting anyone get too close..."
"You're scared," Vaskel said simply.
"Terrified," she admitted.
He laughed, surprising her. "Good. If you weren't scared about such a big life change, I'd be worried. But Lira, I've watched you face down wraiths, negotiate with goblins, and build a life here from nothing. You can handle being happy."
She rubbed her arms, as if the kitchen wasn’t overly warm from the oven. “Sometimes I’m not sure I deserve this much happiness.”
Vaskel felt that right in his gut. “I get that. I do. But if anyone has earned a happily ever after, it’s you.
You came back to your home, you faced the pain of rebuilding a life without the person who’d made Wayside so special, and you made this town a place that even your wayward friends could call home. ”
Her eyes shone as she smiled at him.
"Besides," his lips curved into his trademark devilish grin, "even I like Korl, and you know how selective I am about people."
Lira was startled into a laugh. "You've usually been jealous of any guy who showed an interest in me."
"I have not!" He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense, then laughed when she gave him a knowing look. "All right, perhaps a little. But only because none of them were good enough for you."
"And Korl is?"
"Korl is. He's steady where you're impulsive, quiet where you're chatty, and he adores you completely." He cocked his head at her. “You know, you were one of the few females who could ever resist me. My devastating charms just rolled right off you."
"That's because we're such good friends," Lira said softly. "Real friends.”
Something in Vaskel's chest squeezed at her words. They were friends, true friends, and here she was trusting him with her fears while he kept his own locked away.
The marks on his arm prickled, reminding him of their presence, of Marina’s presence, of the danger he might bring to Lira's door. He wanted to tell her, wanted to warn her, but he couldn't add to her burden. Not now.
“But you were tempted by me, weren’t you?” He shot her a sultry smile. “Admit it.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Vask. I never saw you as anything but a friend.”
He mimed being pierced by an arrow in his heart, but Lira swatted at him with another dishtowel. “As if you cared. You had every other female swooning at your feet.”
He chuckled, not wanting to admit that all those swooning females had meant nothing. Hellkins might have a talent for seduction, but he craved something deeper now. Something real. Something like Lira had with Korl.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to forget about my plans to object at your wedding.”
Lira barked a laugh. “You’d never!”
“Of course not.” He winked at her. “I know better than to anger an orc—or three of them.”
“Not that your objections would make the wedding less dramatic with Erindil involved.” Lira shook her head, and he wondered if she knew about her ostrich ring bearer yet.
Before he could tell her, loud chattering broke the moment, and they both turned to see Crumpet on the counter, gesticulating wildly at the stove where a pot of chai was bubbling over, sending spiced milk cascading onto the stovetop with an angry hiss.
“Son of a wand waxer!" Lira rushed to rescue the pot while Crumpet flew to perch on the copper pots overhead and the raccoon ambled to the windowsill.
When the pot was off the heat, Vaskel picked up an earthenware mug from a shelf and held it to Lira. “Since the chai is ready…”