There were only a couple people in the small pub when Cassian and I stepped inside, and they were too busy chatting with each other to notice us. It was a dark room with lanterns hanging low from the ceiling to send soft, flickering light through the small space. The long end of the L-shaped room contained the bar, which was across from the entryway. The shorter leg held a small seating area with round tables. Stools lined our side of the bar, and Griffin stood on the other side, wiping the clean counter with a rag. He tossed the rag into a basin behind him and looked up. His expression flattened at the sight of us.
“Look who finally decided to pay me a visit. Hello, Cassian,” Griffin said.
There was that resentful attitude that had sentenced him to this conversation with me.
“Hey, Griffin,” Cassian said, his demeanor still muted. “Um… Sterling’s planning on being here for a while, so he just wanted to spend a little time getting to know everyone. Is that all right?”
“Sure, I always welcome a bit of friendly conversation, ‘specially when it’s slow. Have a seat,” Griffin said, gesturing to the empty stools.
“All right, see you,” Cassian said, turning to leave.
“Wait a second, Cass,” Griffin said.
Cassian turned on his heel, watching Griffin apprehensively. “Yes?”
“What’s the matter? You look paler than usual. It’s freakin’ me out,” Griffin said.
Cassian approached the bar, glancing at me once before turning his gaze away. He wouldn’t look Griffin in the eyes as he explained what had happened up front.
Griffin’s eyes found mine before darting to the door. “How far’d he get?” he asked, rolling his sleeves up. “I oughta scare him off for good.”
“Don’t do that,” Cassian said. “Sterling kicked him out. That’s enough.”
Griffin relaxed, rubbing his bearded chin. “I underestimated you, officer. I assumed all of your kind felt the same as that old bastard.”
I felt Cassian’s eyes on me. “Everyone deserves happiness and freedom. As long as magic isn’t used to harm others, I have no problem with it.”
“Good man. Most mages believe the same. Can I get you something to drink?” Griffin asked.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said.
“Cassian?” Griffin asked.
“Oh, um… all right,” he said.
“What do you drink, boy? I haven’t had a chance to drink with you since you ran off to the big city. Ale? Rum? What’ll it be?”
Cassian shook his head, watching his folded hands in his lap. “Just give me whatever’s cheapest.”
Griffin’s expression softened while he watched Cassian, and the look on his face surprised me. I hadn’t seen him look anything other than annoyed at Cassian since my arrival. “I know what you might like. Gimme a minute.” Griffin turned his back to us as he began pulling bottles off the shelves and prepping a glass.
“Cassian,” I murmured to him. He side-eyed me. “It’s not my place to ask, and you certainly don’t need to share, but I wouldn’t think any differently of you if I found out youwerea mage. In fact, I would find you very interesting and smart if you went as far as studying witchcraft.”
Cassian’s brilliant smile returned, tinted with sadness. “I was afraid to know what you thought of mages.”
“In that case, you should know I have always been very impressed with mages. And if you were, hypothetically, a mage, it would really help the investigation.”
“How so?”
“You could stop dancing around telling me how you know about the curse,” I said.
Griffin turned around and presented Cassian with a milky brown drink in a clear handled glass, topped with a layer of foam and sprinkled with cinnamon. “Here you go, Cass. Hot buttered rum.”
“This doesn’t look cheap,” Cassian said, cupping the drink between both hands.
“It ain’t. It was Boris’s favorite thing to drink when the weather got cold, and I thought you might like it too, being his grandson. He taught me how to make it,” Griffin said.
Cassian’s eyebrows rose as he eyed the drink. He lifted the glass to take a sip, and then covered his mouth as he set the glass on the bar top again. “Thank you, Griffin,” he said in a quivering voice. “It’s delicious.” And then he was crying, wiping his tears away with the heel of his hand.
