Vaskel grinned and shook his head, trying to picture Lira in a wrestling match. “I think Erindil would be scandalized.”
Korl’s dads continued sharing increasingly outlandish orc wedding traditions—some Vaskel was certain they were making up—while they worked on the arch.
"Of course," Klaff said as he straightened and appraised their work, "Lira's not an orc, so we can hardly expect her to follow our traditions. But she's family now, orc or not.”
“You couldn’t have asked for a better addition to your family,” Vaskel said.
Vorto nodded with enthusiasm. “She understands him and lets him be himself. Not everyone would.”
Vaskel’s throat was suddenly tight. Lira had always accepted others for who they were, probably because she hadn’t felt she fit in for so long. It was why she’d never looked at him differently despite his infernal nature, and it was one of the many things he admired about his friend.
The thought of Marina touching any of this, any of them, made his hands clench on the iron and his knuckles go white beneath the crimson flesh.
"Steady there," Klaff said gently, noticing his grip had tightened.
"Sorry." Vaskel loosened his hold, pushing down the dark thoughts.
Vorto eyed him. “You have something on your mind, son?”
Before he could assure them he was fine, Klaff flapped a hand. “We’ve kept you too long, haven’t we? They’re probably waiting for you at the Tusk & Tail.”
Vaskel summoned a grin, grateful for the easy excuse. “I suppose I should get to work.”
Vorto winked. “You don’t want Sass coming to look for you. Especially if she’s expecting those sweet rolls.”
Vaskel laughed. “You’re right.”
“Never get between a dwarf and their food,” Klaff said, as if reciting a solemn oath.
Vaskel plucked the pastry bag from the ground, glad there were still sweet rolls to offer Sass. “Good advice.”
Klaff held Vaskel’s gaze for a beat. “You ever need more, we’re here.”
Vaskel nodded as he resumed his walk to the tavern, glancing back at the orcs and wondering if there had been deeper meaning beneath Klaff’s words.
Eleven
Vaskel had barely takentwo steps inside the tavern when Lira emerged from the kitchen, loose strands of auburn hair sagging over her eyes and her cheeks flushed. Her brown work dress and the apron tied around it looked like they’d gone a few rounds with a sack of flour and lost dismally.
She held up a finger. “Don't say a word.”
Vaskel mimed buttoning his lips, as Sass sauntered across the room from where she’d been straightening chairs.
“Does this have anything to do with a new recipe?” The dwarf asked.
“How hard can it be to create a recipe?” Lira’s shoulders sagged. “My gran came up with her own recipes. I should be able to create one that doesn’t make Crumpet gag.”
Sass pressed her lips together for a beat, clearly stifling a laugh. “Is that wee beastie turning his nose up at your baked goods?”
Lira sniffed, twitching one shoulder. “He’s right. The ratios were all wrong, and the cookies were so dry it was like having all the moisture sucked from your mouth as you chewed.”
Sass crinkled her brown nose but walked to Lira and led her to a table. “You’re being too hard on yourself. No one said you needed to create new recipes. The ones we have work just fine.”
“I suppose so,” Lira muttered as she sank into a wooden chair.
Vaskel held up his crumpled paper bag. "I've got sweet rolls from Pip, if that helps."
Lira's expression softened slightly. “That helps, especially since I have nothing good to serve you.”
