"Besides," his lips curved into his trademark devilish grin, "even I like Korl, and you know how selective I am about people."
Lira was startled into a laugh. "You've usually been jealous of any guy who showed an interest in me."
"I have not!" He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense, then laughed when she gave him a knowing look. "All right, perhaps a little. But only because none of them were good enough for you."
"And Korl is?"
"Korl is. He's steady where you're impulsive, quiet where you're chatty, and he adores you completely." He cocked his head at her. “You know, you were one of the few females who could ever resist me. My devastating charms just rolled right off you."
"That's because we're such good friends," Lira said softly. "Real friends.”
Something in Vaskel's chest squeezed at her words. Theywerefriends, true friends, and here she was trusting him with her fears while he kept his own locked away.
The marks on his arm prickled, reminding him of their presence, of Marina’s presence, of the danger he might bring to Lira's door. He wanted to tell her, wanted to warn her, but he couldn't add to her burden. Not now.
“But you were tempted by me, weren’t you?” He shot her a sultry smile. “Admit it.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Vask. I never saw you as anything but a friend.”
He mimed being pierced by an arrow in his heart, but Lira swatted at him with another dishtowel. “As if you cared. You had every other female swooning at your feet.”
He chuckled, not wanting to admit that all those swooning females had meant nothing. Hellkins might have a talent for seduction, but he craved something deeper now. Something real. Something like Lira had with Korl.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to forget about my plans to object at your wedding.”
Lira barked a laugh. “You’d never!”
“Of course not.” He winked at her. “I know better than to anger an orc—or three of them.”
“Not that your objections would make the wedding less dramatic with Erindil involved.” Lira shook her head, and he wondered if she knew about her ostrich ring bearer yet.
Before he could tell her, loud chattering broke the moment, and they both turned to see Crumpet on the counter, gesticulating wildly at the stove where a pot of chai was bubbling over, sending spiced milk cascading onto the stovetop with an angry hiss.
“Son of a wand waxer!" Lira rushed to rescue the pot while Crumpet flew to perch on the copper pots overhead and the raccoon ambled to the windowsill.
When the pot was off the heat, Vaskel picked up an earthenware mug from a shelf and held it to Lira. “Since the chai is ready…”
Twelve
The familiar rhythmof tending bar should have been soothing. Pour ale, wipe counter, exchange pleasantries with regulars, repeat. But tonight, Vaskel flicked his gaze to the door every few minutes, his tail twitching with barely concealed anxiety. Each time the hinges creaked, his head snapped up, hoping to see Iris sweep through in a swirl of jingling skirts.
But she hadn’t come.
"Another ale, Vask?" Old Henrik, the village cooper, raised his empty tankard.
"Coming right up." Vaskel forced his trademark grin as he pulled a pint. "How's the barrel business?"
"Can't complain. Though Pip ordered three new ones for storage. Says he's planning something special for the wedding." Henrik's weathered face creased. "You know what he's cooking up?"
"Besides himself into a frenzy?" Vaskel chuckled, thinking of the frenzied baker testing out cake flavors that morning. “Whatever Pip creates, it'll be spectacular."
Henrik laughed, returning to his conversation with the miller at the next table. Vaskel's smile faded the moment the old man looked away. Where was Iris? She'd promised to scour her books to find a solution. Her absence could only mean she'd found nothing. Or worse, that what she'd found was too terrible to share.
The door burst open with enough force to make everyone look up, and Thrain stumbled in with Rog at his side, both of them pink-cheeked and laughing.
"Vaskel!" Thrain boomed, weaving only slightly as he made his way to the bar, his heavy greatcoat flapping around his legs. "My friend! My very dear, very red friend!"
"How much of Rosie's brandy have you had?" Vaskel asked, though he couldn't help but smile at the dwarf's exuberance.
