“So where wasthis God-forsaken bar with these barrels wehaveto have?”I asked.
Norman sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets.“Cheeky’s.Apparently, Violet’s mother—the queen, which still is weird as hell to say—said they age the whiskey in enchanted barrels and they specifically need to be blessed under a full moon, and apparently Cheeky’s blesses their whiskey.”
“Could you not just age your own and moon bless them?”Desmond asked.
I shot him a glare.“I’m fairly certain one needs a plethora of equipment for that.But I suppose you wouldn’t know that, seeing as you’ve probably never made a thing in your life.”
Desmond rolled his eyes.“I have made plenty of things.”
“Name one,” I said as we strolled down the street.
Cheeky’s, if I remembered correctly, was at the opposite end, which meant we’d be lugging our barrels across town, unless I could muster enough energy to transfigure the barrels into something smaller, but transfiguration had never been my best class.
“Magic or non-magic?”Desmond raised an eyebrow.
I scoffed.“Non-magic.”
I knew plenty of men like Desmond O’Neil.They were a dime a dozen at Blackthorn.Men who relied on their magic for everything and thought they were the toughest guys in the room.
“I restore books in my spare time, actually.”
“Books?”Norman asked, raising a brow.“Like spell books?”
Desmond nodded.“Spell books, historical tomes, the occasional well-used romance novel.”
Norman laughed.“Romance novels, huh?Like, with the long haired chestless dudes?”
Desmond squinted his eyes.“No, like the ones with Orcs and long haired maidens.”He wrinkled his nose.“What romance novels are you talking about?”
“Don’t get out much, do you, Dezzy?”I asked.
Desmond shrugged.“I leave the castle plenty of times.”
“With who?”I asked.
“Do not change the conversation,Bane.You have not answered me.”
“What have I not answered?”
“Tell me one thing you’ve made.Non-magically.”
Norman’s tentacles slithered along my shoulders and I cast him an annoyed glance.
“Sorry,” he said.“It’s hot.”
“Are you leeching my sweat?”I bit.
“Not intentionally.I could use some water, though,” he said.“I wasn’t planning on frying in the sun, today.”
“I’m sure there is a fountain somewhere,” I murmured as Norman adjusted his sunglasses.
“Have you ever heard ofcoq au vin?”I asked.
Desmond shook his head.“No, can’t say I have.”
I grinned.“Well, it’s a delightful piece ofFrenchcuisine.”
“It’s not, like, cow testicles is it?”Norman asked, and I could not contain my laugh.“What?”
