“They do not,” said Mischa. “I have been thinking of bedding him, however.”
Helena and I gave her blank looks.
“He is a good-looking bastard,” Mischa said offhandedly.
We continued to stare at her.
“It’s always better if you do not like them a little bit and you know that,” she said, defensive. “Anyway, it’s been ages since Brox swived into me without giving me any pleasure. The fish man might have better manners in bed than he does standing up.”
“Will you take him into your bed and call him ‘fish man’ then?” Helena asked, trying to look appalled, but failing.
“Ask him if he wants to swim in your seas,” I suggested.
We laughed at her proclamation that Mischa would never speak to us of the inner workings of her mind again. She swigged the rest of her cider and declared she would get our jug refilled. I held out my hand and offered to do it. I made my way to the counter and waited next to a pack of men in Tintarian black tunics. They were sneaking glances at me while I waited for Fletch’s wife to notice me. When she did, I requested a jug of water and one of the pear cider. I placed a copper coin on the counter, but a callused hand covered mine and I looked up into my husband’s face.
He pushed my hand and the coin back towards me and put his own coin on the counter. We stood next to each other and waited on Fletch’s wife. She placed the two jugs in front of me, grinned at Alric and then moved on to other patrons.
“This your bride, captain?” one of the men in black said to Alric.
My husband turned to the men and nodded.
I noticed their backs straighten.
Alric placed his left hand on my back and collected the handles of the two jugs in his right and steered me back to my table. “Edith, I have a favor to ask.”
“Ask, husband,” I said, my voice casual, but not looking at him, only ahead of me.
“Do not do that,” he said, sighing.
“Do what?”
“Call me ‘husband’ in that way. Like it is another word for nuisance.”
I stopped walking and turned to him, people milling about us going to and from the counter. I stared at him as he removed his hand from my waist and put it around one of the jug’s handles, so that each of his hands held a jug.
He did not look at his hands while he did this, only at me.
“What is the favor?” I asked.
“My family wants to meet you. I would ask that you come sit with me.”
“I am in my cups. That is what the water is meant for.”
“You do not seem drunk.”
“Well, I am.”
“It will be brief. Please.”
I will not shame you and I hope you will not shame me.
“Take the jugs to my friends first,” I said and he did so. I caught both my friends’ eyes as he tentatively placed his hand back on my lower back and walked me across the brewery floor.
Before we reached the table, he said, “I have never thought much of flax blooms before.”
“You cannot pay a compliment can you?” I taunted. I was definitely in my cups.
He exhaled through his nose and said nothing.
