His eyes flashed. “Interesting theory. You must have spent all night thinking about me to come up with it.”
The warmth in my cheeks deepened. “You’re deflecting.”
“Am I wrong, darling?”
“Am I?” I countered.
A wicked smile curved his lips. “Feel free to come closer and search me if you think I’m hiding something. Or we could go visit your old friend, Steffon, instead. He might be interested to learn you were sneaking into my wagon when you thought I wasn’t here. I heard they don’t take too kindly to thieves on this island.”
My hands fisted. “I wasn’t trying to steal from you.”
“I’m not the one you’ll have to convince.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
I glared at him, and his smile widened. I had the sudden urge to find an apple pie and smash it into his stupid, smug face. But there was nothing in this wagon other than kegs, tankards, and his bare, sculpted chest. Eventually, I loosed a frustrated sigh.
“Fine. Let me guess. You want something in exchange for your silence,” I said.
“Smart woman.” He rubbed his rugged jaw, like he was deep in thought, but I could tell by the gleam in his eye he already knew exactly what he wanted. My gut twisted. There was only one thing in the world it could be. And the bastard was going to get it, too. “I’ll take a barrel of your ale.”
7
LILIA
Istormed over to St. Olaf Row while Ragnar got dressed, my fisted hands shaking by my sides. The bastard had backed me into a corner, and I couldn’t see a way to knock down the walls in which he’d trapped me. If I didn’t relinquish a keg, he would get me evicted from the festival this winterandevery year to come. It wasn’t enough that he’d already stolen my spot. Now he was taking my brew.
“Everything all right, Lilia?” Emil, a human baker with short-cropped brown hair and a jaw as wide as his forehead, called out as I stalked past his wagon. He sat on a wooden crate, puffing on one of Viktor’s pipes, the sweet scent of tobacco trailing through the crisp morning air.
“Not really.” I sighed, slowing to a stop before him. “I’m just…dealing with a pesky creature.”
He shot me a knowing smile. My stomach dropped. Did he somehow know I’d crept into Ragnar’s wagon? If he did, it wouldn’t take long for the news to spread like wildfire. No one could keep secrets during Yule. Gossip was as common a currency as gold coins.
“That adolescent dragon, eh? I saw him lurking the woods near your wagon,” said Emil.
“Oh.” I had a brief moment of relief before his words sank in. Then I straightened, alarmed. “Oh. Listen, Emil, I know—”
“Ah, lass. Don’t worry. I’ve got no quarrel with a dragon so long as he keeps his fire away from me and mine.” He sucked on the end of the pipe, then curled his lips into an O. Half a dozen smoky circles spilled from his mouth, then he smiled. “How’d you like that? I’ve been practicing.”
“Very impressive,” I told him. “And thanks. For not alarming the whole festival about the dragon. I promise he’s harmless.”
“Harmless?” Emil chuckled. “Dragons are never harmless. Oh, looks like the other creature you were worried about is heading right this way.”
I whirled on my feet, my dress swishing around my boots. Ragnar walked toward me, his steps long and purposeful, his hands swinging confidently by his sides. My eyes raked across his broad shoulders, his rugged face, and his wild hair. My pulse fluttered in my neck; my legs itched to move. Suddenly, I felt as if I was in the eye of a storm, and I would drown if I didn’t escape.
But Ragnar sidled past me without even tossing a brief glance in my direction. When he reached my wagon, he went right to the back, yanked the doors open, and looked inside. I followed him and propped my hands on my hips, readying myself for battle. If he tried to take more than one barrel, I’d tell him exactly where he could shove my kegs.
Up your fates-damned arse.
He let out a low whistle. “You have a lot more than I thought. This could serve…well over a thousand.”
A flicker of pride went through me. “Twelve full barrels. I spent weeks brewing beforehand, paying careful attention to the quality of the malted grains and how much yeast I added. I weighed it all just so. And I added a bit of Vatnor sand so it wouldn’t spoil on the road. Not that you would know anything about proper brewing techniques.”
“You’re right. I don’t really.” Leaning back, he winked. “Smells like mighty fine ale, and the Vatnor sand was a smart call. I wouldn’t have thought of using elemental water magic to keep it preserved and tasting sweet. So I thank you for your donation to Ragnar’s Traveling Tavern.”
I bristled. “I told you before. You cannot copy the name of my business.”
