“I don’t need to remember them when I have you to tell me.”
“Seriously,” Nythir sighed. “Do you at least remember what the coin means?”
“Engraved side up means help, right?”
“Oh, look. He can remember stuff. Lyssara’s going to be upset when she finds out drinking is cancelled.”
“No more drinking?” Vorrik grumbled. “That is so unfair.”
“Life’s unfair. Drink your water.”
12
Esther
How to hide feelings: stare intensely and pretend it’s normal.
They looked like a pair straight out of one of her novels.
Nythir stood at the bar, smiling at a woman whose silver hair caught the lantern light like spun starlight — the kind of womanromance books described as effortlessly stunning. The type who didn’t accidentally summon explosions when nervous.
Esther tugged at the uneven ends of her own hair, wishing she hadn’t hacked it off like a sleep-deprived lumberjack. If she’d known her teleportation spell would drop her into a band of adventurers—and in front of an unfairly attractive elf—she would have:
Not cut her hair.
Packed makeup.
Reinforced her satchel so her guidebooks wouldn’t be lost to a murderous forest.
“Looks like he’s got some business with Luna,” Lyssara said. “Best not to interrupt them. Let’s take a seat.”
Best not to interrupt them?
Nythir did not look out of place behind the bar. That unsettled her more than it should have. He spoke easily, held himself like someone used to being listened to, not because of rank but because of competence. It dawned on her that this was not his first negotiation disguised as conversation.
Esther shoved her hands deep inside her cloak so no one would notice the faint gold flickering under her skin. Her eyes darted around the tavern, scanning for her natural predator—candles.
None.
Instead, lanterns glowed with floating light orbs—expensive rune devices she’d only seen during palace balls. They were finicky, high-maintenance, and required regular magical absorption.
Rune lanterns like these weren't decorative indulgences. They marked places of importance. They were meant to keep magic stable in crowded rooms and to quietly record disturbances. Esther realized, a little belatedly, that this tavern was not simplya place to drink. It was a place where things were watched, remembered, and acted upon.
She sank into the corner table beside Lyssara. It provided the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the bar while remaining invisible.
Invisible.
In her previous life, she had never been invisible.
But here.With friends. Her chest fluttered at the thought.
Something tugged at her awareness, faint but persistent. Not fear. Not excitement. Something steadier. Esther frowned, pressing her fingers together as her magic shifted in response. When she glanced toward the bar and met Nythir’s eyes, the sensation settled immediately, as if a string pulled too tight had finally gone slack.
Then reality crashed back in.
Her lips trembled, butterflies thrumming violently in her stomach.
“Stop looking over there like he’s a fish at the campfire,” Lyssara muttered.
