“I would rather have one day of you choosing to be with me than a lifetime of you feeling trapped by magic you didn’t ask for,” I said. “The mark tells me I could one day love you. It doesn’t dictate how you need to feel.”
“What if my heart’s just as confused as the rest of me?”
“Then we take it slowly.”
A knock on the jail door interrupted us, and I reluctantly released her hand to answer it. Mary stood on the other side, a friendly smile creasing her weathered face.
“Dungar? Greel said you were looking for me? I have to clean the jail so I headed on over. Someone called in sick.”
“Riley? This is Mary Bustier, head of maintenance. Mary? Riley Smith is my new deputy.”
The two women shook hands.
“Go ahead and ask your questions.” She gestured to the back. “I’ll be working in the bathroom.”
“Of course.” I stepped aside, automatically cataloging details as she passed. Tall and lean, probably in her sixties, with long gray hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. She carried a professional cleaning tote she set down on the floor beside the entrance.
Riley described the incident today, asking if Mary had seen anything while working on the lampposts.
Mary poked her head out of the bathroom. “I don’t believe I did. I’m sorry this keeps happening. Kids these days.”
“You’re aware of the other incidents?” I kept my tone casual.
She blinked a moment before her face smoothed. “Everyone’s talking about it. There hasn’t been any crime here since I took this job in Lonesome Creek. I hope you find out who’s messing with our pretty town soon.”
“So do we,” I said.
Mary got back to work.
“I should head out,” Riley said, glancing at the clock.
Where had the time gone?
“Me too.” I turned to Mary. “Could you close the door when you leave? It’s already locked.”
“Will do.”
As Mary started spritzing the windows and wiping them with a dust-free cloth, I walked with Riley toward the door. There, she paused, looking up at me with an expression I couldn’t read.
“The mating mark thing,” she said quietly. “Can we talk about it more tomorrow?”
“I’ll be happy to.”
“Good. Because I have about a hundred questions.”
Despite everything, I smiled. “I have detailed files on orc mating customs if that would help.”
“Of course you do.” Her answering smile came out soft and genuine. “Goodnight, Dungar.”
“Goodnight, breela.” The Orcish endearment slipped out before I could stop it.
Riley’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“Sweetheart.”
Color rose in her cheeks, but she didn’t look upset. “I shouldn’t, but I like the sound of it.”
I walked her with her to the hotel, the old-fashioned lampposts casting warm pools of light on the wooden boardwalk. The evening air carried the scent of mountain pine and the distant sound of laughter from the Red Fang Saloon.
