I tilted my head, considering. That actually wasn’t a bad idea. “Maybe I will.”
CHAPTER 14
Tandor
Dry tendrils of a broom wisped across the floor with a scratchy, comforting rhythm. My hands were now completely healed, no longer needing any bandages. I could clutch the broomstick without any trouble. I swept the day’s dirt through the propped-open door, wishing it a silent farewell as it went.
It wouldn’t stay outside the pub for long—it would quickly come back in tracked under clogs and boots—but it was satisfying to see it go, even briefly.
The crisp outside air drifted in, cooling the room to a temperature that tempted me to tug down my scrunched sleeves. I didn’t catch a chill easily, but I wasn’t impervious to the cold.
I continued to sweep.
Kizzi fluttered in the door, tracking spots of dirt onto the clean floor. A breeze followed her in. It carried the smell of falling leaves and toasted apples. I inhaled greedily. The witch was wearing a black tunic tucked into a long, flowing skirt that kissed the ground as she walked. Her boot-clad toes barely peeked out from below the billowing fabric. Her hair was down and wild, settled around her shoulders and curling at the ends, hiding her ears from view.
Every folk in the room turned their head when she walked in, some openly gaping. I couldn’t blame them. I felt the same way.
That didn’t stop the twinge of jealousy from twisting my stomach, though. Of course they would stare—she was magnificent—but irrationally, I wanted to be the only one to lay eyes on her.
I set the broom aside. “Hey there, Kizzi. Here for lunch?” I asked hopefully.
She shook her head. “I’m actually here to ask a favor.”
I nodded quickly. “Sure. Anything.”
Her eyes darted to my face. She tilted her head. “Hmm…” She stepped closer to me, examining my expression with a strange intensity. I gulped, nervous under her scrutiny. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of my forehead and I hastily swiped it away. I scrubbed an irritating speck of dust out of my eye. Still, she watched me.
“Is… everything okay?” I asked.
“That depends. Did you eat any of my chili at the potluck?”
I met her gaze abruptly, confused by the random question. “Did I eat any of your chili?”
She nodded, stepping closer and inspecting my face even more intensely. My skin tingled at her proximity.
“Uh… I sure did. It was delicious!” I grinned tightly, hoping she couldn’t read the lie on my lips. I would die before I admitted to her that I had refused to try her chili because it had a dirty feather in it, and I was positive it would have made me vomit.
I would never admit to having such a weak stomach. Orcs were supposed to be tough, not squeamish.
I would never risk offending her, either.
She dropped her head back and groaned. “Old Gods be damned!”
Huh. That’s not the reaction I expected.
“Was I… not supposed to?” I asked, dumbfounded.
She scrubbed her hands over her face. “No, no, it’s not that.” She dropped her hands and looked at me again. “Are you feeling okay?”
My stomach roiled. Were folk sick from her chili? I couldn’t say that was surprising.
I shrugged, unsure of what the correct answer was. “I feel fine, more or less. Maybe a bit warm?”
“And are you itching to jump my bones right now? Confess your undying love for me?” she asked matter-of-factly, watching for my reaction.
My blood thundered in my ears. All of a sudden, I was achingly aware of how tight my trousers were. “Um… No?” I gulped. “I mean, not no. I didn’t mean no. But I don’t mean yes, either.” This had to be some sort of trap.
She squinted her eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Okay. That’s… fine. We can make that work.”
