She inclined her head towards the table of Procurers. “I have him right where I want him. And I have decided I really need a good swiving.”
“Gods, Mischa,” said Helena, but she was not as upset as she wanted to be.
Catrin had placed a hand on her chest. “And how will you go about this?” she asked.
“I will ask him to bed me,” answered Mischa. “I am not a woman men turn down.”
“Because they are afraid of you,” I offered.
“Quiet, Edie,” she said and drained her cup. “I have watched you use the same approach. You are just more subtle about it. I am a straightforward woman.”
“You are a terrifying woman,” I replied.
They had begun to push tables aside and a fiddler began to play and soon the brewery was full of dancers as well as patrons.
Catrin stood. “I am going to relieve Maureen so she can dance if she wants.”
Maureen returned to us shortly and it was like old times, the four of us at a table. As the night went on, I sipped only a little at my cider, still feeling weak at the exertion from that morning, but I was lighthearted. Our table was near a window that overlooked an alleyway and through it, I noticed men outside. They would leave the brewery to piss in the street and then return. When Perch made such an exit, Mischa stood and followed him.
Over the sounds of clapping hands, fiddling and patrons talking, through the window we heard Mischa say, “I have decided I need a man’s prick in me and it may as well be yours.”
There was a pause before Perch, only a little out of breath, said, “Very well,betrothed.”
The three of us looked at each other and then Helena, astounding me more than she had ever done, said, “That is about to be the most satisfying screw of her life.”
“Mother,” Maureen breathed.
A witch cackle, not unlike the one I had heard my goddess make while kneeling out in that field of rocks poured from me. I held my hands over my mouth, but that only seemed to make it worse. And then Helena joined me in laughter, but more ladylike.
Maureen continued to gape at us, in particular her parent.
Just as I was able to breathe again, Helena looked at her child and said, “Come, girl, how do you think you came to be?”
Maureen looked like she might faint and I fell apart laughing again. The back of my neck pricked and I looked up across the brewery to see Alric and Thatcher watching us, bemused. A third wave hit me and our laughter started all over again.
Towards the end of the evening, I stood to return our pitchers to the counter. Maureen was dancing with Luka, who had stuttered his request for a turn on the floor. Helena had scooted down the bench towards River, Quinn and the Sister Sea scribes, answering their excited questions about her mural. Catrin, behind the counter, was collecting emptied cups and pitchers and staring at the door of the brewery where a man had just entered. I did not recognize him at first as his clothing was drab and he had grown some beard, but I then understood the man to be Prince Peregrine.
“You should ask him to dance,” I said, turning to her.
“Edie, that is—”
I interrupted her. “That is a good idea? Is that what you were about to say?”
“He is a prince,” she protested.
“And you are as beautiful as any princess and twice as kind. He could not do better.”
Her face was flushed and she shook her head at me.
“Edith?” I turned to see my husband standing next to me. “Can I walk you back?”
There was nothing I wanted more, but I looked to the table with Helena.
“I believe my sergeant is hoping to ask his betrothed the same,” explained Alric.
“You are suggesting we make ourselves scarce so as to encourage this?” I asked.
He nodded. “Thatcher asked me directly to leave with you.”
