The interior was exactly what the sign threatened—a riot of color and light, bioluminescent lanterns hanging like jewels, tables carved from twisted roots. The space was packed with patrons of every variety: Root-marked fae playing cards in shadowy corners, Bloom-touched merchants haggling over drinks, what looked like a group of forest sprites doing shots that glowed an alarming shade of green. Music thrummed through the walls themselves, making the floor pulse with bass that I felt in my chest.
The servers were Florakith—seven-foot-tall beings with skin like flower petals, wings that sparkled with pollen, and outfits that were more suggestion than clothing. One glided past our group, leaving a trail of sweet scent that made my head spin.
“Is this a brothel?” I asked.
“It’s whatever you pay for,” Peeble said from my shoulder, already examining a menu made of pressed mushroom. “But mostly it’s just aggressively flirtatious.”
A Florakith host appeared, all smiles and calculated charm. “Table for…?” Their eyes swept over our ragtag crew with obvious interest.
“Eight,” Kaelren said curtly.
“And would you prefer intimate or… exposed?” The host’s smile suggested they already knew which would make us more uncomfortable.
“Back corner,” Sarnyx said before anyone else could answer. “Away from the windows.”
The host led us through the crowded tavern, past tables where deals were being made and romances were being negotiated, to a large round table tucked into the far corner. It was partially hidden by a support beam grown from living wood, offering some privacy while still giving us clear sightlines to both exits.
Kaelren immediately claimed the seat with the best view of the room, back to the wall. I slid in beside him—safer than sitting across where we’d have to look at each other—and the rest of the crew arranged themselves aroundthe table.
Kaelren hadn’t said a word since we entered. He sat like a storm cloud, arms crossed, jaw tight. Every time a server looked his way, his marks flared with irritation.
“Relax,” Vashael purred from across the table, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “They’re just friendly.”
“They’re predatory.”
“Pot, meet kettle,” I muttered.
He shot me a look that could have frozen fire, but before he could respond, our server arrived. She was devastating—lavender skin that shifted to pink at the edges, eyes like midnight, and a smile that promised trouble.
“Well hello there, sweetlings,” she drawled, leaning one hip against the table in a way that made her filmy skirt shift dangerously. “First time at the Nook?”
“Unfortunately,” Kaelren said flatly.
She laughed, a sound like wind chimes. “Oh, I like the grumpy ones. They’re fun to crack.” She leaned closer to him than necessary, giving him a view that would have made most men forget their own names. “Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“We’ll start with water,” he said, voice like ice.
“I’ll have whatever’s strongest,” I said, partly because I needed it, partly because his obvious discomfort was amusing.
“Ooh, adventurous,” the server said, straightening to look me up and down with obvious appreciation. “I have just the thing for you, sweetling. It’ll make you forget all your troubles.”
“Perfect. Bring three.”
The server sashayed away, and Kaelren’s glare could have powered a small city.
“What?” I asked innocently.
“Three?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“You’re reckless.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Children,” Sarnyx interrupted, sharpening one of her thorns on the edge of the table. “Can we have one evening without you two eye-fucking or fighting?”
“We’re not—” Kaelren and I said in unison, then glared at each other for the synchronization.
