“So, you want him to stay?”
I sighed. “No. Fine. I’ll try again.”
I approached the table once more, hesitantly this time. The man’s vast presence seemed to absorb the very air around him, darkening the corner of the pub in a peculiar way. A shiver rolled down my spine. The man didn’t have pointed ears, or fangs, or any other markings that would make his species of origin obvious.
I wasn’t the best judge, though. I couldn’t determine species by scent, like the vampires and the shifters could. Nor could I sense their type of magic, like witches. I had to rely on other methods, like politely asking.
Or minding my own damned business.
He straightened when I stepped into his view. His shoulders pulled back into a regal posture much more ostentatious than his previous casual slump.
Still, he didn’t speak.
“Have you decided what you want?” I asked as I shifted my weight back and forth.
He nodded, just once. “I want you, wife.”
I huffed in irritation. There went my plan of pretending I’d never seen him before. “I’m not your wife. I know this. You know this. Now—today we’ve got honey ale, dark wine, or a few flavors of cider. Juice if you’re not the alcohol type. Stew if you’re hungry. Which will it be?”
He clenched his jaw, something like frustration flashing across his face and vanishing just as quickly. “Wine, then.”
I could’ve sworn the room darkened slightly, probably a cloud passing over one of the suns.
“Wine it is. No more of thismy wifenonsense or Tandor over there will toss you out the door.” I gestured to the orc with my thumb, hoping he looked big and threatening enough.
The stranger’s eyes narrowed. “Will he, now?”
“He sure will. Behave and you won’t have to endure that embarrassment.”
A long, tense moment passed. “Very well,” he said eventually.
I departed swiftly to retrieve the wine, which I filled to the very brim. Luckily, my practiced hand held the goblet as still as ever, not spilling a single drop even though my insides felt soft and rattled.
The wine was a rich plum color, expertly brewed and deliciously flavored, but guaranteed to stain if it met with fabric.
I begged my muscles to behave, to remain steady.
I returned and dropped the goblet off, keeping as much distance between the dark-haired stranger and myself as possible.I brushed my hands off with a clap. “Anything else you need?”
“Yes.”
I waited, planting my hand on my hip. I expected the wordyouto come out of his mouth again.
I counted ten breaths before he responded. “A place to stay,” he said, sounding more like a question than a statement.
That was… strange. Where had he slept last night if he had no place to stay? Perhaps he simply needed anewplace. “Mayor Tommins can help you with that. Where did you come from, anyway?”
His forehead creased. “I… I do not know.”
“You don’t know where you’re from?”
His lovely face scrunched up even further. “No.”
I glanced at the wine. Maybe he didn’t need any alcohol, after all. Either that, or he didn’t want to divulge any information about himself, no matter how trivial. He followed my gaze and looped a protective hand around the goblet’s stem.
His fingers were long and slender, darkened at the tips as though frostbitten. Or dirty.
I supposed he would be keeping the wine. Fair enough—I had enchanted sober dust I could blow into his face to snap him to his senses if the need arose.
