Iris reached for his hand when his words faltered, her fingers cool and steady as they wrapped around his. “You don’t have to tell me, Vask.”
Her touch steadied him, but it also caused his heart to lurch. The contact should have been comforting, but something electric sparked between them that had nothing to do with the soul bind spreading its dark tendrils up his arms.
“I’ll figure out how to break this,” she promised, her green eyes holding his with an intensity that made his chest constrict. “We’ve dealt with curses before.”
Vaskel’s tail, usually so controlled, curled involuntarily around the leg of the stool as the marks beneath his shirt crept up his skin like ivy made of shadow and fire. It wasn’t the marks that concerned him most in this moment, though. It was the way Iris’s thumb brushed across his knuckles, absent and gentle, as if she wasn’t even aware she was doing it.
“Iris...” Her name felt wrenched from his throat.
She looked at him, dark curls framing her face. Her pulse fluttered visibly at the base of her throat, and he leaned closer without meaning to. In that moment, she wasn’t the apothecary who’d been best friends with Lira’s gran, and he wasn’t an infernal being decades older than her.
The warm, exotic scent of her wrapped around him like a potent spell. For a heartbeat, he let himself imagine what it would be like to close the distance between them and unearth the answers to questions he’d always had about the mysterious woman. To let his fingers tangle in her curls and his lips brush the pale skin of her throat.
Then he remembered Marina, and the thought was a bucket of ice water over his head. If Marina truly was behind these marks, if she’d found him, then anyone close to him was in danger. Especially someone Marina might see as a threat to her claim.
He jerked his hand away and stepped back. Her eyes widened slightly, confusion and something that might have been hurt flashing across her features before she smoothed them away and busied herself tidying her herbs and oils.
“Thank you.” He backed away so quickly that he nearly upended a stack of books. “I should go before Lira and Sass miss me.”
Iris nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as if warding off a sudden chill. “Of course. Let me know if the marks spread further or if you feel any other changes.”
Changes. He almost laughed at that. Everything was changing. The marks were spreading, his old life was catching up with him, and his feelings for Iris were taking root in his chest at the worst possible time.
“I will,” he muttered, already moving toward the curtains. He paused before he pushed them aside, fighting the urge to look back, yank her into his arms, and send all caution spiraling into the ether.
Instead, he parted the heavy fabric, strode through the empty shop, ignored the bell as he tugged open the door, and stepped out into the sleepy village.
Stamping his feet, he proceeded down the sidewalk. Somewhere behind him, a rooster crowed and horses whinnied in the stables. Vaskel cast a glance across the snowy street to the tinker shop, which was still quiet and dark. Maybe that meant Lira and Korl weren’t awake yet.
The whiff of yeast and sugar now clung to the icy breeze. At least he knew that Pip Brambleheart was awake and baking, just as he was every morning. A distant splash told him the waterwheel was turning, and a muffled clang signaled the blacksmith was hard at work. Everything was just as it should be in Wayside. Everything but him.
Vaskel pressed a hand to his arm, then gave a rough shake of his head. He couldn’t think about the marks or how fast they might be spreading. He could only think about how he had to protect those he loved from the deal he’d made so many years ago, how he was going to keep them safe from Marina.
Even if it meant giving the hellkin exactly what he’d promised her.
Nine
The scent hitVaskel before he even reached the bakery door, and his stomach, which had been knotted with worry since leaving Iris's shop, loosened slightly at the familiar aroma. It was impossible to hold tight to dark thoughts when met with the halfling baker’s enthusiasm and exceptional pastries.
He pulled open the glass door and a gust of heat and the heady aroma of sweet rolls engulfed him before Pip's head popped up from behind the counter, his hair standing on end and dusted with a startling amount of flour.
"Vaskel!" The halfling's face split into a delighted grin. "My first customer of the day!"
Despite everything, Vaskel felt his lips curve into a smile. Pip's joy was like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. "Morning, Pip. What has you so excited today?"
"What doesn't have me excited?" Pip bounced on his toes, his hands already reaching for the tongs. "I've been up since three working on flavors for Lira's wedding cake. It has tobe spectacular, you know. The most magnificent confection Wayside has ever seen!"
"Lira's wedding." The words came out softer than Vaskel intended, as he wondered if he would be around to witness it or if he’d have to flee Wayside to keep his friends safe. He pushed that thought aside. “I’ve heard about the five tier cake.”
"Oh, that’s only half of it.” Pip leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice even though they were alone in the shop. "I want to surprise her with a distinct flavor for each tier. Speaking of which..." He whirled around and produced a small plate with a delicate slice of cake. "Would you do me the honor of being my taste tester? This is my newest creation—rosewater cake with vanilla buttercream.”
Vaskel accepted the fork Pip offered and took a bite. The cake was light as air, the rosewater delicate without being overpowering, and the vanilla buttercream so smooth it melted on his tongue. It was excellent, as everything Pip made was excellent.
”It's very good," he said honestly, setting down the fork. "Elegant."
Pip's eyes narrowed slightly. "But?"
"But if you're asking my preference..." Vaskel shifted from one leg to the other. “I wouldn’t crave this cake like I crave your lemon sweet rolls.”
