“It’s adorable how she calls you Ms. Stone,” Ben said as we walked. “Like you’re an actual adult.”
“Frightening,” I agreed, looking resolutely away from the sausage-on-a-stick vendor. “If only she knew the truth.”
My phone buzzed with another text update from Wendy. “Between the direct outreach and the digital and broadcast ads, there’s been a 50 percent spike in Senator Janus’s Twitter mentions. They’re being flooded with emails and phone calls, too. His office just called, and they want to talk.”
“Excellent.” Ben smiled at a crowd of passing elves. “Hello, honored friends. Please help us send Texas’s carbon emissions back to medieval times.” The elves looked intrigued, so he passed out pamphlets and stress balls. He was getting better at reading crowds.
“Use your famous elvish cunning to convince Senator Janus to vote for SB 3,” I added, and they cheered.
“What?” I asked, at Ben’s look. “It was a solid guess. Every mystical creature thinks it’s the clever one.”
He stopped in his tracks, eyes lighting up at something in the distance. The last time I’d seen him this excited was the day he’d discovered he was going up against Connor Holliday in their first-ever mock trial. Ben had beaten him handily that day, but as everyone knew, Connor had gotten him back in the end.
“No way,” Ben breathed.“Axe throwing.”
I didn’t think Ben would ever recover from how bad he was at axe throwing. I mean, he was good at the throwing part—his throws actually grew more...powerful, let’s say...as time went by and he parted with more and more of his money. What they didn’t get was more accurate. Poor guy could barely get his axes to land in the target circle—even when the guy who ran the show moved him to a much bigger target I assumed was for axe-throwing babies.
“The trick is to hold it lightly.” I demonstrated a gentle grip. “And you want to hold it by the pointy part. Always grab things by the sharp end.”
Ben looked like he wanted to usemefor axe-throwing practice. He glared at me, pushing his hair off his face and huffing a breath. “Why don’t I useyoufor axe-throwing practice?”
Well. At least I’d been right about what was going through his head.
I smiled winningly at him and tossed my axe.
The look of utter shock that crossed his face had me spinning to the target. My axe hung, perfectly dead center, in the middle of the circle.
“We have a winner,” called the man in charge, in a thick German accent. Everyone around us started clapping.
Oh my God. Ilovedwinning. It felt like someone had injected pure adrenaline into my veins.
I swung back to Ben, unsure what to expect, but all six feet three inches of him were glowing, practically radiating excitement.
He tossed his axe on the grass and grabbed my elbows. “Youdid it.”
“I’m a medieval assassin.” I jumped up and down, his warm hands securing me, until my flower crown slid over my eyes, blinding me with petals.
Ben tugged the crown back to my forehead, and I got a quick flash of his wide smile, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes, before he turned away. I tried to ignore the punch of his blue eyes.
“Here’s your prize,” said the man in charge, handing me a giant, overstuffed plush wolf that was a solid third my size. The wolf smiled with a massive set of pointy teeth and canny eyes.
“Oh, thank you,” I said, hefting the stuffed animal. “He’s terrifying.”
Ben laughed.
The axe-man nodded at the wolf. “It’s a Beerwolf.”
Ben laughed even harder. “Your college alter ego, Stoner.”
I cocked my head.“Beerwolf?”
The man searched his brain. “Werewolf, I think? From German myth.”
“Ohhh.” I looked at the stuffed animal. Its canny eyes made sense now. They followed me as I turned my head.
“Here, Ben.” I shoved the stuffed animal at him. “I want you to have him.”
The mocking laughter left Ben’s face immediately. “Are you serious?” He gripped the wolf. “I can have him?”
