Honey turned, taking in the rest of the room.
It was like someone had hollowed out the earth and built a tavern in its heart. The ceiling was low, and glowing lanterns dotted the dark walls. A long bar ran the length of one wall, stacked with curious bottles and labeled jars. In the center of the room were several worn tables, each surrounded by players hunched over a game of tiles. Aflickering fire in a sunken hearth cast dancing shadows across the stone floor.
She couldn’t look away.
The game was like nothing she’d ever seen—part dominoes and part magic. The tiles shimmered faintly under the lantern light, each carved from stone and inlaid with glowing dots. At the center of the table, a circular track shifted and rearranged itself, sliding with a whisper of magic as players set their pieces down.
Honey paused mid-step, her eyes following a tile as it slotted itself into place and made an entire track vanish in a ripple of light.
“I—” she started, then stopped. “What is this place?”
Ethan leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Somewhere that can’t make its way into any report.”
She turned her head slightly toward him, lips parted, and for a moment the room, the people, the whole world, narrowed to just the space between them. “Of course not.”
His gaze flicked down to her mouth. “Thank you,” he said, so softly she wasn’t sure she heard it at all.
Somewhere across the room, someone laughed sharply, and the spell broke.
Ethan finally released her hand and turned to the bar while Honey stood there, trying to shake off the way her skin still tingled where he’d touched her.
The bartender was tall and rail-thin, with wiry blond hair pulled into a low knot and arms covered in swirling ink that seemed to shift slightly when the lantern light hit it just right. His eyes flicked up, and then he nodded once at Ethan.
“Two of my usual,” he said.
Without a word, the man reached beneath the bar and pulled out two mugs. He poured the drinks from a narrow-necked bottle etched with runes, the liquid inside a deep amber that shimmered faintly, like it had caught starlight.
Ethan handed one to Honey, his fingers brushing hers again. “Here. Try this.”
She eyed it skeptically. “What is it?”
“Tea,” he said, too quickly. Then with a grin, added, “Sort of.”
Cautiously, she took a sip, and immediately blinked in surprise. The flavor was warm and rich, like spiced honey and toasted almonds, followed by a slow, creeping warmth that bloomed on her tongue. A heat spread down her throat. Definitely enchanted.
“This is enchanted,” she said accusingly. “What does it do?”
“Nothing. I promise. It’s just delicious.”
She turned in a slow circle, eyeing the space more critically now.
A couple in the far corner were playing a private game of dominoes where the tiles rearranged themselves when they weren’t looking. A man in a suit lit a candle with a snap of his fingers. One woman blew a kiss across the room, and a man three tables away startled as if slapped.
Honey stiffened.
“Three violations of the Conjuration Code in under two minutes,” she murmured to herself.
“Hey! Ethan!” a broad-shouldered man with a mustache called out. “You’re late.”
The man strolled over, and he and Ethan clapped each other on the back in a hug. “And who’s this radiant creature you’ve bamboozled into coming on a date with you?”
“Honey Baxter,” she said, startled into a laugh.
His brow furrowed. “Why do I know that name?”
“She’s the auditor I told you about,” Ethan said, taking a sip of his drink.
“Oh! Right, we spoke when you were on your way into town. Sorry I forgot to call you back.”
