But things couldn’t go back to normal for him and Iris. Not after that kiss.
He released a visible breath. “I suppose I’ll have to tell Iris how I feel.”
Crumpet’s chattering about this was more pointed, and unless the hellkin was imagining things, a bit judgmental.
“Yes, I suppose I should have told her sooner.” He flicked a gaze toward the flutterstoat without turning his head. “But I was afraid of ruining our friendship.”
Crumpet blew a raspberry.
“Fine,” Vaskel growled. “I was afraid she wouldn’t return my feelings. I was afraid she wouldn’t want to get involved with a hellkin. We don’t have the best reputation for sticking around, you know.”
The flutterstoat emitted a sigh that made Vaskel wince.
“I’ll admit, it wasn’t my bravest moment, but I’d rather battle a mountain troll than risk losing Iris. There’s something about her that makes me feel at home, and the way she looks at me makes me feel seen—and not just for my devastating good looks.”
Crumpet’s groan made Vaskel laugh. Then the flutterstoat chattered something scolding and smacked the side of his head with one of his paws.
“I take your point, and I promise to talk to her once all this is over.”
He reached a hand into the pocket of his cloak and felt for the cookie, a comfortable reminder that if everything went according to plan, this would all be over soon.
Taking steady breaths that puffed from his mouth in clouds, he waited for Thrain’s sign. That is, until a moan wafted up from below that made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end, and Crumpet wrapped his furry arms around Vaskel’s head.
Forty-Three
Vaskel stepped fartherfrom the castle walls, glancing down at the snow covered ground and attempting to look through Crumpet’s arms. The mournful sound had definitely come from beneath him, but he refused to believe it had emanated from the earth itself.
Prying the flutterstoat’s arms from his eyes, he held his breath as he listened. The moaning had stopped, leaving only the gentle sounds of rustling underbrush and Crumpet’s quick heartbeat in his ears.
“It was nothing,” he told himself as much as the flutterstoat. “It was the wind.”
Crumpet chittered aggressively, and although Vaskel couldn’t interpret his words like Lira did, he was sure the creature was disagreeing with him. But it had to be the wind.
Shaking off the feeling that he was wrong and the winged stoat was right, Vaskel focused on the window he thought belonged to Marina while Crumpet readjusted his position so that he was holding onto Vaskel’s horns for balance. Any moment now,Thrain would make a noise that would confirm the room and Crumpet could fly up and let him know when it was time to ingest the cookie and the bind-breaking potion.
Suddenly, his senses prickled to life, and his tail quivered. Almost before he could take a breath, branches snapped behind him and leaves rustled from something that wasnotthe wind.
Vaskel pressed himself into a corner of the castle wall where a tower cast a shadow large enough to hide him and Crumpet, drawing his blade from his belt. He held his breath as the whispering underbrush and crunching snow drew closer. Maybe it was a guard on patrol, although given the lax security at the castle, he doubted it. Maybe it was Erindil coming to tell him there was something wrong.
Then a figure emerged from the woods, and Vaskel caught a glimpe of crimson skin. Every muscle in his body stiffened. It was a hellkin. As the cool wash of the moonlight bathed the creature’s face, Vaskel’s suspicions were confirmed. Not only was it a hellkin, it was a young one. Presumably, a member of Marina’s new crew.
As all these things ran through his mind, he tightened his grip on his dagger and prepared to attack if he was spotted. He allowed himself a quiet breath, not daring to move as the hellkin crept along the perimeter of the forest and finally walked toward the castle entrance. Vaskel waited to tuck his blade back under his belt until the hush of the winter night enveloped him once more.
Crumpet patted his head as he moved stealthily away from the castle just enough to peer up at the windows. Had they missed Thrain’s signal while they were hiding? He hadn’t heard any boisterous dwarf noises, but he’d been more focused on staying hidden than on listening for signals.
His heart pounded as he watched the glow of light spilling from a single window, wishing desperately that he knew what was going on inside. Had the dwarf reached the room, had he found Marina inside, had he convinced her of his heartbreak and desire to win her back, had she taken the bait and accepted the cookies? What would happen if Thrain ran into the other hellkins? If Erindil did?
There were so many questions that doubt started needled its way into Vaskel’s mind as the cold seeped into his bones. Even for an infernal being who ran hot, it was cold outside. The longer Vaskel waited in the dark, the more his doubts grew.
“This is taking too long,” he whispered, squinting to see a shadow pass in front of the window or really any sign that someone was inside the room.
Crumpet cooed, patting one of Vaskel’s horns, which the hellkin found more than a little reassuring.
“Thanks, Crumpet,” he said, wondering if he should send the creature up to check on the window.
As he was reminding himself why he didn’t want to risk Crumpet yet, the flutterstoat lifted off his head and flapped his furry wings toward the window. So much for caution.
Vaskel thought about calling him back down. The last thing he wanted was for the enchanted creature to be spotted, especially by Marina, but at least Crumpet could tell him if Marina was in the room.
