“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!”
With a grimace, Laz spun the sign and hurried behind the counter.
Davarox stood in the kitchen, leaning over his work. A container of pinkcurrants sat on the counter as he frosted the yellow sponge, hands steady and tongue poking out as he focused. His gray arms flexed in his sleeveless shirt, the hearth already spiking the temperature as he prepared for the batch of treats that needed to be made.
Laz oftentimes found himself laughing at the sight of his best friend, all breadth and brawn with a demeanor to rival those of the warriors, who spent his mornings baking bread and counting the sprinkles on each cupcake so they never went to waste. But then he’d remember why Davarox preferred to sequester himself to the back room and it became a little less funny.
Sev and Dav had always been similar, even if Sev was technically Laz’s twin. Both grumpy, serious, and avoiding social interaction as best they could. That was fine; Lazerath made up for all of those things.
“Okay, so we’re going to need, like, daily bread deliveries to Severath.” Laz tossed his apron on before shoving his hands in the sink to wash. “He’s all sad face to go with grumpy face, which is awful because, like,his face.”
Davarox grunted, leaning closer to his work. “It’syourface. Though, you’ve proclaimed yours the better looking one.” Laz grimaced as he reached for his supplies, and somehow, even with his back turned, Davarox sensed it. He stood straighter and frowned. “What happened to his face?”
Ingredients for the soufflé abandoned, Lazerath grabbed a stool and dragged it closer to his friend. He started with the facts, and once Dav had gotten over his initial anger at how Severath had been injured, Laz began to fill in all the not-so-factual things.
Observations, that was the word. His observations of his brother, like the fact that the nub of his horn looked all jagged and not oiled like Balran had probably ordered. Then there was the dark bruising whenever his cloth wrap shifted. And of course he couldn’t forget about the hardened caramel Severath was preparing his home for.
“Criminal,” Davarox muttered, focus back on the cake.
“What?”
“Criminal, not caramel. One of the humans was a murderer, and he was asked to keep an eye on her. That’s probably who you saw walking up to the house.”
Lazerath blinked. “That little human was not a murderer.” He would know. His father had called them monsters. Terrifying beasts with teeth and skin and eyes—admittedly, demons also had those features. But then he cocked his head. “Wait, how didyouknow that?”
Dav shrugged, delicately placing the pinkcurrants on the lowest tier. “Demons talk.”
Which was Dav-speak for “someone said something shitty in his presence because they were being shitty.”
Laz never understood the stigma around demons who had lost their magic. He’d never thought Davarox diseased or sick or weak because his skin was gray and he possessed no magic, even if Dav had been born without magic compared to others who lost it later in life. Lazerath had seen a boy his age playing alone and declared them best friends.
Good thing, too, because Dav and Sev were much better at fending off bullies than Lazerath ever was or would be.
The three had been basically inseparable, if you didn’t count Sev joining the guard once he was of age. Which was devastating when Lazerath had grand plans to open up the best bakery in Heck alongside his favorite demons. But he still had Davarox, who was the brains of the operation.
And the muscle.
And the talent.
But Laz had the spirit and the charm as he wooed their customers in with a smile and conversation and great handwriting for the window displays. So what if he sometimes forgot to switch the sign to open and didn’t understand the difference between income and profit and sunk cost? He washappy.
He exhaled long and slow, propping his head up with his hand. “We should go out.”
Davarox didn’t blink at the change in conversation, rotating the cake stand as he fixed some frosting. “We’ve got inventory to sort this afternoon.”
“Tomorrow?” His friend grunted. “Please, I’ve got the sads.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is.” Lazerath pouted, pointing to his face. “See this? This is a sad face. I have the sads. Sev kicked me out and he’s shutting down and his sadness makes me sad.”
Dav sighed and stood straighter, folding his arms over his chest. “Please don’t say it’s a?—”
“It’s a twin thing.”
He rolled his eyes. “What else is it?”
Laz’s shoulders deflated. “I don’t know, I’m just…” He sighed, spinning on the stool and using his tail to propel himself. “I knew Sev was always at risk of getting hurt in the guard, but seeing it? Just kind of made me realize how lonely we’ve been.” He stopped abruptly, not waiting for the dizziness to settle as he looked at Dav’s wobbly form. “Are you lonely?”
