Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
The Tusk & Tail thrummed with life, laughter rolling through the great room in waves that reached the smoke-darkened rafters.
Vaskel pulled ales absently, sliding tankards down the bar to waiting hands while keeping up a stream of banter with the regulars.
The familiar rhythm of greeting, pouring, and serving kept his hands busy and his mind blessedly occupied.
No time to think about Marina or soul binds or even Cali’s notable absence.
In their usual armchairs by the hearth, Korl and Val had claimed their evening spots early.
Val's knitting needles clicked steadily as she worked on what appeared to be the world's longest scarf, the white wool pooling to the floor like a yarn waterfall. Korl nursed the same tankard of ale he’d had since the early afternoon, his gaze on the fire with an occasional glance toward the kitchen doors.
At one of the long tables, Thrain and Rog had begun their nightly competition of tall tales, and it was good to see that the dwarf had bounced back from his heartbreak.
“—and that's when the troll sneezed, sending me flying straight through the window of the temple.” Rog slammed a hand onto the table and made a pewter plate jump.
"A troll sneeze?" Thrain scoffed. "That's nothing. I once arm-wrestled an ice giant for the right to cross a bridge in the Ice Lands.”
“Won, did ya?” the gnome asked, stroking his beard with one hand.
Thrain leaned forward. “Nah. Had to go the long way. That’s why it took me so long to reach Wayside.”
Rog barked a laugh, and they both rocked back on the benches, slapping their knees and then each other’s backs.
Lira emerged from the kitchen, her cheeks pink from the oven's heat, wisps of hair escaping from her braid. She looked tired but content, the way she always did after a successful evening of feeding the masses. Although this time the evening rush was far from over.
“Everything okay?” Vaskel asked as he moved to the end of the bar nearest the kitchen. There was more meaning than usual in his question, and Lira met his gaze with a knowing look of her own.
“The recipe is perfected. The cookies are rich and flavorful with enough of a brandy punch to mask anything.”
He tilted his head. “No samples?”
Sass walked up to them, slapping her empty tray on the bar top and heaving a sigh. Sweat beaded her brow, as much from the fire as from her work serving food. “Are we talking about meat pies? If so, I just passed out the last of them.”
Lira’s gaze held the dwarf’s as she gave her a wry smile. “Vaskel asked if there were any samples of the dark chocolate brandy cookies.”
Dark splotches appeared on Sass's brown cheeks—the dwarven version of a blush. “Aye, well, someone had to taste test them.”
“And finish them,” Lira added.
Sass’s mouth dropped, her spluttering defense lost as Vaskel and Lira burst into laughter.
Sass huffed with mock offense before flouncing back to the floor.
She made her way to Val's chair, perching on the overstuffed arm and leaning close to say something that made the guardswoman's stern face soften into a smile.
"It's a good feeling when people you love find their people, isn't it?" Lira said softly, watching the pair with affection.
"It is," Vaskel agreed, “but I suppose that isn’t totally accurate. True love isn’t found, it's built."
Lira had returned to Wayside and found Korl, discovering her one and only in the last place she'd expected, but it had been patience and kindness that had built their foundation.
Sass had been on the run from an arranged marriage, only to stumble into Wayside and straight into Val's steady, patient heart, but the pair had put in lots of time learning how to be with each other.
Lira smiled softly at him. “Look who’s so wise in the ways of love.”
Vaskel shrugged. Maybe the village was charmed, some kind of benevolent magic that drew lonely souls together and gave them what they needed to build love.
Then he thought about his own luck—soul-bound to a vindictive hellkin, marks spreading across his skin like poison, pushing away the one person his heart desired. Maybe Wayside's charm only worked for those who were worthy, not for hellkins with dodgy pasts and too many regrets.
Lira’s voice snapped him from the torment of his thoughts, but he hadn’t heard what she’d said. “Pardon?”
Lira stepped closer to him, touching his arm. “I said that all we need now is for Iris to come and bring me the final ingredient.”
Even though they were standing close enough for their conversation to be private and even though the din of the tavern was enough to drown out their words, Lira didn’t dare mention the potion.
Vaskel appreciated that she still operated as if they were in the midst of a dangerous quest. In a way, they were, and this one held his own fate in the balance.
“She’ll come,” Vaskel said with complete certainty. Like all his friends in his adopted home, he trusted Iris with his life.
“I’m not worried about Iris coming through for us. I’m worried about Cali.”
Vaskel held the same concern, but he also held tight to the belief that their former crew mate was clever and cunning in her own right. She was a pantheri, after all, with feline reflexes and the instincts of a predator. If anyone could snap out of Marina’s grasp, it was Cali.
Before he could remind Lira of all the reasons they should have faith in the archer, the tavern door swung open.
Holding his breath, Vaskel glanced toward the light spilling out into the steady snowfall, releasing a grateful breath that it was the apothecary outlined in the doorway and not the hellkin.
Iris stepped inside, throwing back her cloak’s hood and shaking off snowflakes that instantly melted onto the floor.
Her hair was a tangle of dark curls and her cheeks were pink from the cold.
Her gaze swept the great room, taking only an instant to find him behind the bar.
Her eyes crinkled into a smile, but Vaskel winced at the weariness etched into her face.
She didn’t waste any time winding her way through the crowd to reach Vaskel and Lira, although she kept her hands tucked safely beneath her forest green cloak until she reached them.
“Is it ready?” Lira asked in a low voice.
Iris nodded, parting the front of her cloak enough to reveal a small, bulbous bottle filled with a murky brown liquid.
Lira made a face but took it, keeping her hand low as she slipped it beneath her apron.
“How long will it take to make them?” the apothecary asked, hiding her now-empty hands under her cloak again.
“Not long,” Lira said, already backing away. “A few minutes to mix up the batter and no more than ten to bake them. The oven is already hot.”
Iris managed a smile and a nod as Lira ducked into the kitchen, leaving the half doors swinging in her wake.
Once she was gone, Vaskel eyed Iris. “Why did you ask that? It wasn’t idle curiosity.”
The woman’s smile became sad. “You know me a bit too well. I wanted to know because we might have less time than we thought.”
Fear slid cool talons around Vaskel’s heart. “Why do you say that?”
Iris’s gaze flitted to the kitchen doors then back to him. “Because I saw Cali. She stopped by the shop.”
He snatched a breath. “You saw her too?”
“She came by to return the books she’d borrowed from me, Vask. All of them.”
The talons pierced his heart. Cali would only do that if she were leaving, which meant he might have been wrong about the archer and her ability to resist Marina.