“Marina,” Vaskel said, fighting to keep the disdain from his voice.
Cali’s whiskers quivered. “She said she knew you.”
Vaskel had already heard from Thrain that Marina was passing them off as childhood friends, but his past wasn’t why he’d come.
“Cal, Marina isn’t who she says she is.”
The archer smiled. “She also said you’d say that.”
Vaskel clenched his teeth to keep from shaking his friend and shouting that Marina was twisting the truth. “Cal?—”
“It’s nice to be needed again,” Cali said before he could finish. “I didn’t know how much I missed it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been great reuniting the crew in Wayside, but a part of me misses the quests, the purpose, the chance to use my skills. You and Lira have the tavern, and even Rog has Rosie have their brandy cart. I have…”
Vaskel swallowed hard as her words drifted off. “You’re a little lost is all. It happens to all of us once we stop crewing. You’ll find something great to do.”
The pantheri twisted her head to meet his gaze. “What if I already have? What if joining a new crew is my something great?”
Vaskel bit back all the horrible truths he wanted to tell her about Marina. “What about our crew? You said yourself that we’re the family we chose. That doesn’t come along every day, Cal.”
“True, but does that mean I give up on it?”
Vaskel had felt lost before. Hells and cinders, he’d felt just like Cali had before he’d found their crew. He understood loneliness. He understood her desire to have a purpose.
She leaned close to him. “Don’t you miss the adventure, Vask? Don’t you miss the joy of completing a quest?”
He thought about the rush he used to feel after they’d collected their bounty. It had been great, but it had been fleeting. It also hadn’t been the kind of happiness that settled into your bones.
“If you ask me, the greatest parts of life are what happens between all the quests and adventures,” he said. “Sitting around the fire after a mission and laughing about our narrow escape. Catching a perfect sunset on the trek to collect our gold. Licking sugar off your fingers from Pip’s lemon sweet rolls—if you were lucky enough to get one after Sass got to them. We have to enjoy the little things in life because, in the end, those are the things that matter.”
A reluctant smile teased Cali’s mouth. “I will miss Pip’s sweet rolls.”
Vaskel’s heart lurched. “You aren’t serious about leaving, are you, Cali? I can help you find something that makes you feel alive again. We all can.”
Cali opened her mouth and then closed it again. “I’m sorry, Vask. Adventure, bounties, quests? It’s too tempting to pass up.”
Of course it was. Marina knew exactly how to tempt each of her marks.
Before he could argue for Cali to stay, a whistle pierced the air. They hadn’t discussed a signal, but Vaskel knew this was Val’s way of telling him he needed to leave.
Vaskel squeezed one hand on Cali’s gray-striped arm. “You’re my family, Cali. I don’t want to lose you.” Then he got up and ran toward the door, slipping through it just as he heard Marina’s voice fill the hall.
He paused, glancing back through the crack in the door as it slid shut. Marina was next to Cali, one hand resting on the archer’s furry arm as she gazed at her with an intoxicating intensity that Vaskel knew all too well.
Val wasn’t waiting in the hall anymore, which Vaskel was glad for. He wouldn’t have wanted her to see the tear that slid down his face as he hurried away.
Thirty-Eight
Vaskel’s stepsback to Wayside and the Tusk & Tail were leaden, his boots trodding on the packed snow, and before he knew it, he was staring in front of the tavern. He held open the front door for a farmer with a wispy mustache who was leaving with a half-eaten scone in one hand. The familiar scents of sugar and spice made the hellkin’s shoulders uncoil as he walked inside.
Lira was right that baking was a special kind of magic. Even before a single sip of chai or a bite of a buttery, crumbly scone, he felt more at ease.
Sass worked her way around the wooden tables, a tray of scones held high over her head. Folks were sipping chai from ceramic mugs, low conversation humming between them and melding with the crackle of the fire.
The afternoon scone service was always a more mellow experience than nighttime at the tavern, when ale flowed as freely as the raucous tales.
Lira stepped from the kitchen with a tray of mugs, sliding it onto the top of the long bar. Her gaze fell on Vaskel, and her brows rose in an unspoken question.
He continued past his usual post behind the bar, following her back into the kitchen where there was less chance of them being overheard. The doors swung shut behind him, but Lira waited until he scraped the stool across the floor to the worktable and sat down.
