If only Raine would do that. The two dragons could keep each other in check if they chose to, but instead, they seemed to compound on each other’s shenanigans.
“That is so convenient,” Fiella muttered.
“Sure is,” Tandor agreed as he returned to the table, goblets in hand. He passed the drinks around the table before returning to his seat between me and Ginger. The chair groaned when his weight settled onto it.
“Godsblood? Why did she call you that?” Ginger asked, confused.
I flapped my hand dismissively. “I’m not sure, but they won’t stop.”
“It’s because she’s the Godsblood, of course,” another sprite chimed in. Scarlett. She was sitting on the table, staring longingly at the rest of the stew in my bowl. I nudged it toward her.
I shrugged. “Whatever that means.”
Ginger stared at me for a moment before she simply nodded, returning her attention to her own bowl of stew. “It’s a cool name.”
“It’s a ridiculous name,” I argued.
“I think it’s kind of funny,” Fiella chimed in from across the table.
“Nobody asked you,” I grumbled, but it had no bite to it.
She snorted a laugh in response. “Grumpy. Will some gifts break you out of your bad attitude?”
I straightened. “Maybe.”
Anticipation fluttered in my chest. I was nervous to give my gifts to the others. I had spent a lot of time on them, and I was pretty sure they would be appreciated, but I was feeling wobbly, nonetheless.
Ginger scarfed down the rest of her stew before rising, her hoofed feet clacking against the stone floor. “Let me clear these bowls away first.”
Tandor beat her to it, snatching the bowls with impressive speed. “Sit, boss.”
With a roll of her eyes, she sat. she leaned back and crossed her ankles, her cheek twitching but not quite forming a smile.
As Tandor cleared the dishes away from the table, leaving us with just our goblets, Redd brought the gift boxes to us.
Mayor Tommins stood to leave from where he sat in the back of the room, brushing his hands off on his trousers and drifting toward the door.
“Going somewhere?” Fiella asked.
“I think I’ll head to bed,” he said, voice tight. “I’m tired.”
I shook my head. “Stay, Tommins. It’s Merry Day.” I kicked at the chair to my right that was unoccupied. “At least have a cider. This cranberry flavor is incredible.”
He hesitated, his jaw working. He seemed conflicted.
“Stay,” Redd urged. “Just for a bit. It’s too early to go to sleep, even for you.”
Slowly, the gryphon nodded. “I suppose one drink wouldn’t kill me.”
He settled into the chair next to me, his back ramrod straight and his hands folded on the table in front of him. Tandor set a goblet down, and he grasped it quickly, seemingly grateful to have something to hold onto.
I smiled. He was nervous. It was kind of sweet.
“So, Tommins. Any big plans for Moonvale in the coming months?” I asked to try to ease his tension.
It worked. He relaxed slightly as he took a sip of cider. “If those monsters don’t destroy it first, you mean?” he asked, gesturing to the dragons who were now curled up in front of the fireplace.
“Precisely,” I said sarcastically.
