“We broke ground, that’s not —”
Her words were stopped when Lurielle put a hand directly over her mouth.
“Zip it. Let yourself have this. Andpleaseenjoy it. You don’t want to look back on this night and only remember how stressed you were.”
She laughed again, nodding her concession. “That’s fair. You’re right. Where’s Dynah? I haven’t talked to her yet.”
It was Lurielle’s turn to laugh, nodding her chin in the direction of the Plundered Pixie table. “Tate and his chef are playing matchmaker. She’s going to be sitting on that older orc’s lap by the end of the night, just you watch.”
The chef in question was wearing a triangle-shaped tube top, encrusted in tiny gems, one that left her six-pack abs exposed. She and Tate were in deep conversation with a demonborn Ris had been introduced to just that night, one of the owners of the Pickled Pig, she’d been told.
Caleia was also making the rounds, glass of red wine in hand, like Ris, not slowing. People were milling around the perimeter of the room, looking at the vision boards, the architectural drawings, the paint and upholstery samples, and artist renderings of what they had to look forward to when it was finished.
Ris scanned the room once more, her heart climbing up to her throat when she saw Ainsley stand. He had that look on his face, his posture ramrod, defiant, a familiar sight to her, when he made up his mind about something he’d been debating. He strode across the tent, approaching the two orcs who had been his friends, stopping short just before them. Elshona turned. For a moment, none of them moved. Then the chef opened her arms, flinging herself at Ainsley, crushing him against her.
Her eyes closed, and her shoulders dropped. She didn’t know what was said. She didn’t need to know. All she knew was that they were leading him to the Pixie’s table. Back to where he belonged.
“I am so amazingly proud of you,” Silva announced, strolling to where she and Lurielle stood, an arm linked with Dynah. Dynah, whose cheeks were flushed, whose eyes were sparkling. “This is amazing,” Silva hummed. “Even my parents don’t think it’s horrible. I told my father this was much nicer than Tannar’s family’s club and he’s been on a tear for the last forty minutes. Rael is ready to rally the troops. You’re seriously going to give Cevanorë a run for their money.”
“I hope so,” Ris choked out, a laugh wrapped in what may have been a sob, crammed into the same coat together and hastily swallowed down. “This is for us. This is it, right here. The four of us. We’re who I thought of when I set this in motion.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Same. This is going to be amazing.”
“You know what we should do once we get past this,” Ris motioned at the endless field of dirt. “Like, I mean, once they actually start construction, because then there’s nothing for me to do or stress over once it’s underway. We should do a girls’ trip. Just a weekend. No kids, no dogs, no responsibilities.”
“Please,” Dynah begged.
“Let’s go to a spa,” Silva sighed, opening her arms with her head dropped back, as if she could already feel a mud mask.
“Or like, maybe a yoga retreat?”
“Ris, I’m not going on vacation to put out my back,” Lurielle laughed. “I know you think we’re supposed to be bendy, but I’m not built that way.”
She laughed, knowing when she was defeated. It would be fun. Fun and relaxing.
“Spa it is. I’ll start planning. Cheers, ladies.” She held out her flute of sparkling wine, cheering a little as the other three clinked theirs to the rim.
“I really, really love this for us.”
Epilogue
The sports bar was noisy and crowded, packed with bodies — humans mostly, but enough trolls and goblins that they didn’t stand out when they entered.
The bar was tucked into a strip mall, between a bank advertising free checking and a nail salon. On the other side of the parking lot, a large grocery store was teeming with shoppers. The parking lot was packed and well lit, just a few doors down from their destination was a chain restaurant and music spilled out of the door every time it was pulled open, easily heard as they crossed the parking lot, hand in hand.
Once upon a time, Silva would have found it inconceivable to think that a place like this was a good choice for a clandestine meeting, but now she knew better.
The cost of her key was knowledge she could never unlearn.
The knowledge that she was better off stepping around a large puddle with an iridescent surface, taking up space in a parking lot on a day that had suffered no rain. The knowledge that there were some locked doors that were merely waiting. Waiting to be found, waiting to be reunited with their keys. The knowledgethat a small shop on a busy street corner may have been trafficking in highly valuable, dangerous, and illegal ephemera.
And when they’d pulled into this crowded, well-lit parking lot, full of businesses and bodies, seeing their destination just ahead, Silva didn’t think anything of it. Of course, it was right here, out in the open.
The best way to stay hidden.
He had received a text from his friend Astrid, the wisp — the same fae who’d brought her to the gate in Winter.
