Before he could say anything else, a high-pitched yip echoed through the air, somehow carrying over the barking chaos.
A tiny Pomeranian shoved through the crowd of larger dogs with a determination that would have rivaled my own.
The creature was absurd. Professionally groomed to the point of comedy, the creature had fur so fluffy it looked like someone had attached a cloud to a pair of legs. It wore a collar with more diamonds than I’d seen in one placeoutside of a jewelry store. The thing probably weighed less than the basket I was holding.
It planted itself directly in front of me and stared at the basket with unblinking focus. I didn’t need to speak Dog like an orc shaman to understand what that meant.
I pulled out a treat and held it down. The Pomeranian took it with delicate precision, then settled at my feet to destroy it with single-minded intensity.
The little beast didn’t get the chance to finish devouring its prey. “Fifi!” a female voice called out. “Where are you?”
The command cut through the barking with pure authority. An older woman emerged from the crowd, people stepping aside to let her pass.
Every muscle in my body went rigid. What little triumph I’d felt over my successful cakes dissipated into thin air.
The woman was Hazel’s grandmother. I recognized her immediately from The Cocoa Bean. Back then, Hazel had done her best to keep the older woman from paying attention to me and Barnaby, but I could have never mistaken her for anyone else. Those green eyes were just like Hazel’s, after all.
Come to think of it… Hazel had distracted her grandmother by agreeing to go to a gala. Oh, gods. It was… It was this gala. This exact event. Hazel was here.
Which meant I’d failed. I’d tried to keep her out of this, tried to protect her from the unavoidable mess resulting from the Challenge. Somehow she’d ended up right in the middle of it anyway. And if Reynard was here… There was a good chance Isengrim might be, too.
I was on the verge of a panic attack when Hazel’s grandmother stopped in front of me. She took in the scene with a single assessing glance. Then, she picked up one of the flat cakes from my basket. “I’ve never seen Fifi eat anything except my granddaughter’s work with such gusto.” She sniffed the cake and miraculously didn’t flinch. “Impressive. What’s in them?”
My mind went blank. I couldn’t exactly explain Kharak’dur or the Iron Steppe or the fact that I was an orc carrying around treats made from a plant that drove predators into feeding frenzies. I also could barely think past the sudden spike of dread coursing through my mind. “Special recipe from my homeland,” I somehow managed to grit out. “Family secret.”
It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
“Fascinating.” Hazel’s grandmother tucked the cake into her expensive purse without asking permission. “If they’re as beneficial as they appear, I might be interested in placing a bulk order for the rescue foundation.”
She waited for a beat, perhaps expecting an answer. When I failed to provide one, she turned and left withouta word. Fifi trotted after her, leaving a small pile of crumbs where the treat had been.
As the old woman vanished into the crowd, I shared a look with Barnaby. He didn’t seem to care about the dogs at all anymore. He’d recognized Hazel’s grandmother, too, and he knew what it meant.
I set my basket down a nearby table. The dogs immediately lost interest in me and turned their attention to Barnaby. “Stay here,” I told him. “Keep handing out treats. Smile. Look happy. Boost that Joy Coefficient.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find Hazel.”
He hesitated, and I knew that he was considering offering his help. It would probably come in handy. The power of a magical entity like Barnaby was no joke.
But Reynard was still right there. Not ideal, but at least the damn fox wasn’t lurking around Hazel. Barnaby could distract the Osterfuchs until I found Hazel.
“Well, Vixen…” he said, as if coming to the same conclusion. “What do you think about Brok’s cookies now?”
I didn’t wait to hear Reynard’s reply. I pushed through the crowd, scanning faces, looking for crimson hair and green eyes and the woman who’d somehow become the most important thing in my world.
My hands curled into fists as I moved through the crowd. People stepped aside instinctively, responding tosomething in my posture even if they couldn’t see past the glamor.
Then I saw her.
She stood in front of a white gazebo, talking to someone in an expensive suit. Tall. Well-groomed. Perfect posture that looked natural but set off every warning instinct I had.
It was him. Isengrim. Just like I’d feared, he was lurking around her, too. Their bodies were so close that if he leaned forward slightly, he could probably kiss her.
Every muscle in my body locked up. I didn’t think. Didn’t plan. I just moved.
“Get away from Hazel, now!”
