Chapter Twenty-Three Kion #4
Glinda Davero, reporter for Wily Witch, is clearly unimpressed by the Tally Ho Tavern, and even less impressed by Roger’s acerbic glower from the bar, where he cleans glasses with rags that are so dirty Kion doesn’t think they should be used for cleaning anything.
To Kion’s surprise, the tavern is marginally less empty than it was the last time he and Taissa visited. He can’t help but wonder if the paparazzi photos are responsible for the handful of folks sitting around eating lunch. It’s still far from bustling, though.
Licking the sparkly feathered tip of her purple Pell-Mell Plume and flipping to a blank page in her rhinestoned notebook, pink-haired Glinda glances between him and Taissa.
Neither of them had time to change out of their training leathers before Niamh stumbled into the infirmary in her ridiculous heels, squawking for them to get to the tavern for heaven’s sake.
Taissa’s are covered in copious amounts of mud. There’s also loads of it in her hair.
She’s slumped in her seat next to Kion, glaring at the Pell-Mell Plume. Niamh would have a heart attack if she saw how Cho’s brows were lowered right now. Kion has the feeling he’s not much better. He’d rather be anywhere else.
“So,” says Glinda, waving a light brown hand, “as I said, it’s very nice to, officially, meet both of you. Our office has been abuzz with your recent, well, escapade.”
“You mean running out of the shoot in my underwear?” snarks Taissa. If she’s in pain, she doesn’t show it. And if Glinda sees the dried blood on top of her head, she’s said nothing.
Instead, the other witch leans forward with wide eyes. “Yes! What was that all about?”
Every word from Taissa’s mouth drips with sarcasm. “Had to rush home, we did, so horny we were.”
Fucking hells.
Glinda looks like a child on her birthday morning as she scribbles in her notebook.
“Well, who can blame you? We got your gift basket—all’s forgiven on our end.
We do love cheese.” A panicking Niamh must have sent that.
Kion has never assembled a gift basket in his life, never mind a cheese basket.
“Well, I have a few questions to ask you, obviously. If you’re all right with it, I’d like to dive in. ”
“Go ahead,” grumbles Kion, and it’s somehow easy to sling an arm around Taissa’s shoulders today and play with the end of her plait. When she leans into him, something in his chest skips.
It’s not an unpleasant feeling.
Glinda’s pink-painted lips curve in a smile as she watches them.
It’s the usual shit. How they met, how much they love each other, how years of rivalry turned into something more. Taissa’s bored. Kion can feel it. It’s in the way her knee keeps knocking against his. He nudges her back.
Only once they’ve covered the usual bases do the questions get interesting. Kion nearly chokes on his own spit as Glinda sweetly asks, “And your favorite sex position?”
Damn Wily Witch.
Taissa’s knee abruptly jerks away from his. A slow flush is overtaking her face, but she rallies admirably. “We like…” Her eyes dart to him, then away, then back to him. Too late, he realizes she’s panicking and has nothing in mind. “Er, we like the, um, the, uh, Soaring, er, Unicorn?”
The sides of Kion’s mouth are doing something very strange indeed. They keep quirking up, even when he tries to force them back down. Laughter is threatening to rumble in his chest.
Unicorns don’t fly. Everybody knows that.
So what the fuck is the Soaring Unicorn?
A moment later, he realizes that Glinda has, apparently, asked a similar question. Probably more politely. Taissa is clearly drowning and Kion makes no move to save her. He’s too busy trying to regain control of his traitorous mouth.
“It’s when we, ah, we…” Taissa attempts a smile. “Some things, they just transcend words, you know?”
“Right,” says Glinda. The witch looks just a bit horrified. But also fascinated. And a whole lot triumphant. What a bloody scoop. Apparently gathering herself, she leans forward with a secretive smile. “Would you say that Kion is a passionate lover, Taissa?”
“Oh, well, he has to be, doesn’t he?” she asks sweetly. “To compensate for his—”
Well, that at least makes his lips curve downward.
Underneath the table, he kicks her foot.
Hard. Even if she did recently have bladed feathers sticking out of her head, she deserves his wrath.
“I’m very nicely endowed, thanks,” he snarls to Glinda, and then spends a moment in pure shock that he said that.
Taissa’s nose is twitching in an interesting way.
She explodes in laughter. “I was going to say, personality.”
Kion bites the inside of his cheek hard as he watches her. Fuck, she’s beautiful like this: flushed with sparkling eyes, slapping her hand against the table.
Glinda’s hand, around the Pell-Mell Plume, is a blur. “So you’d say that banter is an important part of your relationship?”
Later, Kion won’t really remember the next questions, or how he’d answered them. All he’ll remember is Taissa, sneaking glances at him with tiny smiles, giggling at a joke that only they understand.
And, unfortunately, he’ll remember Markus.
Fucking Markus.