His attention lurched to me, his uncovered dark blue eye wide in fake astonishment. “But…but…I’m so sweet.”
I burst out laughing right in his face, perhaps a bit of spittle splattering his nose. “You are only sweet to the women you take to your bed, and that’s before you take them. Afterward, you are a complete prick.”
“For shame. I never act that way.” His crooked smirk flashed.
“Sure, my friend.Sure. You are as holy as they come.”
“Actually, I have had women tell me that it is an entirely holy experience when I make them—”
I slapped my free hand over his mouth, stopping the rest of his sure to be disgusting sentence. “I think I understand. No words are needed.”
Muffled behind my hand, he muttered, “You wound me.”
“You’ll get over it.” I removed my palm from his mouth when he decided biting it with his damned fangs was the best option. I pushed his new tankard toward him. “Finish this off. It’s getting late, and we’re going to pass out here if we aren’t careful.”
Caspian’s eye roll matched my own. “Yes, one time of Jenavene’s cranky father smacking us awake with a broom was enough. I’d rather not have a repeat of that not so entertaining morning again.”
“Agreed.” We toasted once more. “To my birthday.”
“To your birthday, Trix. May you have many more to come, with plenty of cock that doesn’t bore you to tears, and no more views of a beach for the foreseeable future.”
“I’ll drink to that!”
As one, we chugged our last drinks.
I put my tankard down and tossed plenty of coins inside it.
Caspian slammed his empty tankard on the table and stood up on wobbly legs, extending his hand to me. “Shall we?”
“We shall!” He helped me to my equally unsteady feet, and I leaned heavily against him to say quietly, “You just flashed your daggers to one and all. Reckless, cousin.”
Caspian quickly pulled his long leather coat closer to his body, concealing his illegal blades—since any blade was illegal in all kingdoms—and glanced at the customers surrounding us. Fortunately for them, they were as smashed as we were and too involved in their own conversations to notice. He shoved me gently toward the door, mumbling, “The sooner the king wants us back, the better. My blades need blood.”
I laughed as I trudged from the tavern, holding the door open for him with gallant flair. We were soon walking down the cobblestone streets and singing at the top of our lungs for one and all to listen to, despite the late hour, allowing them to join in the olden, jaunty tune if they wished. Of course, we disregarded any angry shouts sent toward us…
The merfolk swim quicker than thee,
The shifters bite harder than thee,
The gorgons stone better than thee,
The casters spell quieter than thee,
But, oh…but oh…
The elves will swindle thy enemy!
But, oh…And oh…
The elves will burn thy enemy!
And oh…Wee oh!
The elves will decimate thy enemy!
Yay oh!...Fae oh!
We elves will drink thee under.
