“Are you?”
“...No.”
“Didn’t think so.” I flicked my head to the side. “I left some in the pot over there.”
He laughed, reaching over to pat me on top of the head before thinking better of it last minute, mindful of my careful hairstyle. He settled for thumping my shoulder instead. “You’re the best.”
My cheek lifted into a wry smile as I brought the goblet to my mouth. “And don’t I know it.”
He lifted the ladle in the pot, blowing on the mixture for just a moment before hastily slipping it between his teeth. He exhaled in a few frazzled puffs, fighting off the burn that threatened to scorch his tongue.
“Idiot,” I mumbled under my breath, but I couldn’t help but smile. He never learned.
After fanning his face a few times with flaps of his hand, he was able to swallow. He bounced on the balls of his feet. “Holy shit.”
“Good?”
“Incredible.” He took another bite, not even bothering toblow on it this time, settling instead for the “breathe out the steam like a dragon” method. “You’re definitely going to win.”
“You think so? I feel pretty good about it.”
He spared me a disbelieving glance. “Of course. You know your stew can’t be topped, no matter what’s in it.”
My stomach warmed. I couldn’t tell if it was the flattery or the cider.
Brambleby let out a loud yawn in the corner, reminding me of his presence. The small dragon was such an easy companion. It was miraculous, really. I tried not to get too used to it—he was just as capable of mass destruction as the other two, even if his power hadn’t manifested yet.
But he sure was sleepy.
“You can go home, you know,” I called to the dragon. “Much more comfortable to sleep there.”
He huffed out an exhale before settling his head down with a thunk. Was that… attitude? I choked on disbelief.
“I think he just sassed you,” Tandor said between spoonfuls of stew.
“He totally did. Unbelievable.”
“It’s nuts, right? Raine is like a gods damned teenager.”
“So, you’re telling me it doesn’t get better?”
He shrugged. “In the next few days? Absolutely not. Maybe in ten years or so.”
I took a long swallow of cider. “Excellent.”
“Ten minutes remaining!” Linc screamed from the square, his voice magically amplified.
“That’s your cue, boss.” Tandor’s voice held an edge, almostlike he was nervous.
I pushed to my feet and discarded my now empty goblet. I’d wash that later. “Are you going to carry this pot for me?”
“What are friends for?” he asked.
I stopped him with a hand on the chest before he could grasp the boiling pot with his bare hands. “Mitts! You need mitts to protect your hands. You’re not fireproof. You should have learned this by now,” I chastised.
His pointed ears drooped slightly, and his shoulders slumped. “I forget.”
I grabbed two cloth mitts, tossing them in his direction. “It happens to the best of us. Let’s get going.”
