Marina's face flashed through his mind, a cold slap of a reminder that he was bound to another, his very soul claimed. How could he do this to Iris? How could he let her think there could be something between them when he might be gone tomorrow, dragged away by a bond he couldn't break? It wasn't fair to play with her heart when he wasn't free to give his own.
He pulled back abruptly, stepping away so quickly that he nearly knocked over a black glass bottle of elderflower extract.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice rough. "I should go.”
Confusion flashed across Iris's face, followed by something that looked heartbreakingly like hurt. "Vaskel?—"
He was already backing toward the door. “Thank you for—for everything, but I shouldn’t take up any more of your time.”
He fled before she could respond, the bell above the door ringing his retreat. The cold air outside slammed into him, but it wasn't enough to erase the warmth of where her hand had touched his arm or the look in her eyes just before he'd pulled away.
Vaskel trudged back through the village, his boots heavy on the frozen ground. The marks on his arms burned, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He'd hurt Iris. He'd seen the confusion in her eyes.
The soul bind felt heavier than ever, not just because of the marks spreading across his skin but because of what it was costing him. Not only his freedom, but the chance at something real, something good, something he hadn't even realized he wanted until it was impossible to have.
When he glanced up, he glimpsed Erindil hurrying over the bridge toward the castle. Why was the elf heading there, and why was he in an entirely different outfit than he’d been wearing earlier? Vaskel knew Erindil hadnotbeen wearing a simple dark cloak. Did the elf even own a garment that wasn’t trimmed in fur or gilded fringe?
Unfortunately, he was so distracted by spotting Erindil that he didn’t see the hand reach for him through the shop door, closing tightly around his arm.
Twenty-Eight
“I’m soglad I spotted you!” Pip tugged him inside the bakery with surprising strength. “I need your opinion.”
Vaskel dropped the arm he’d cocked to defend himself as he allowed himself to be led into the bakery. He supposed he had time for a friend, and there was no doubt he could use the mood boost of baked goods.
"It's a new creation inspired by one of the flavors I’m considering for Lira's wedding cake. Sweet cherry nestled in buttery pastry with a sugar glaze—but I've made two versions and can't decide!"
Pip thrust two pastries into his hands. Like all the halfling’s creations, they smelled intoxicating and looked delicious. Golden pastry was folded into delicate roses around dark red cherry filling; one was drizzled with plain sugar glaze as white and glistening as fresh snow and the other was crowned with a ribbon of dark chocolate.
"Try them!" Pip bounced on his toes and rubbed his plump hands together, his hair abristle.
Vaskel bit into the plain glazed one first. The pastry was buttery and light, giving way to tart-sweet cherries that burst on his tongue. He licked at the sugar glaze that stuck to his lips, nearly moaning with pleasure. Then he tried the second version, which was richer and more decadent, the bite of dark chocolate cutting the sweetness of the cherries.
"They're both delicious," he said honestly, “I couldn’t pick a favorite.”
The halfling clapped his hands, flour puffing into the air. "Wonderful! I'll make both! Oh, I must get back to the ovens—the next batch should be ready!"
He scurried toward the back of the bakery, leaving Vaskel holding the half-eaten pastries and marveling how Pip's enthusiasm had dragged him from his dark mood.
Then the bakery door swung open. Freezing air swooped in, carrying snowflakes and a presence that made every muscle in Vaskel's body go rigid.
Marina swept in like an icy gust, and before he could step back, she'd looped her arm through his, her touch burning even through his sleeve.
"Vaskel," she purred. "You've been avoiding me. I'm starting to think you don't enjoy my company anymore."
He tried to pull away without making it obvious, acutely aware of Pip watching them from behind the counter. The last thing he needed was to cause a scene in the halfling's bakery, unless he was ready to reveal why he disliked Marina. But that would mean revealing his dark past, and Vaskel couldn’t imagine his new friends discovering he’d been part of a murderous crew and still smiling at him the same way.
"I've been busy," he managed through gritted teeth.
"Of course you have." She turned that devastating smile on Pip, who'd turned at the sound of the door. "And who is this delightful creature?” She fluttered long red fingers at the pastries behind glass. “The creator of these stunning treats, I take it.”
Pip practically beamed at the compliment. "Pip Brambleheart, at your service! Are you a friend of Vaskel's?"
"Oh yes," Marina said, squeezing Vaskel's arm hard enough to make the marks flare with pain. "We go way back. Practically family, you might say."
"Any friend of Vaskel's is a friend of mine!" Pip exclaimed, already reaching for a pastry. "You must try my newest creation—my treat.”
Marina accepted the cheery pastry, taking a delicate bite and closing her eyes in apparent rapture. "You're a true artist, Master Brambleheart."
