Ivar snarled.
Ragnar deftly moved in front of me; fire flickered across his extended palm. “Careful what you say and do next, Ivar.”
The pie man seemed to shrink into himself. His eyes danced as he watched the flames shift from one of Ragnar’s hands to the next. “I didn’t steal your bloody ale. We looked for it, and there wasn’t any to take.”
I frowned. How was that possible? “But you just said you took all the food.”
“We did.” Ivar threw up his hands. “But we didn’t touch the ale. All right?”
This made little sense. If Ivar hadn’t taken our kegs, where had they gone?Someonehad to have taken them. In any other circumstance, I wouldn’t believe a word he said, but he’d admitted to taking the food. Why would he bother to lie about the beer?
I touched the back of Ragnar’s arm. The heat of his fire sizzled against my fingers, nearly scalding me. Hissing, I yanked my hand back. Steam whistled from his arm.
Instantly, the flames on his palms vanished. He gently took my hand in his, bringing my fingers up to his eyes. “Lil, are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” I wiggled my fingers. They’d turned a bright pink, but it would ease up in no time. “See? Just a little redness. Us elves have water magic in our blood, so I suppose that helped.”
But he should know that. He was partially elven himself, wasn’t he?
He brushed his lips across my pink skin. “Please forgive me. I hope you know I would never intentionally harm you.”
“I know.”
“Are you two done yet?” Ivar called out impatiently. “I wasn’t joking before. If you don’t move out of the way, then I—”
Ragnar whirled on him. Any softness I’d seen a moment before vanished from his fiery eyes. “No, we are not done yet. You stole the food from the festival? Well, we’re taking it back.”
Ivar’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t. What I didn’t sell, I baked into pies.”
“Then we’re taking the damn pies.”
Furious red crested Ivar’s cheeks. “Youcan’t.I spent hours baking them. Those are my pies, and I’m taking them to the Milford Market, so I can actually earn some coin. That’s the only reason I’m doing this, you know? You lot won’t let me step foot into Riverwold. So what else am I supposed to do?”
Ivar’s shadow demon friends edged closer. Their hands were behind their backs, clearly hiding weapons. Shadows spiralled around their arms.
I frowned. “Ragnar, perhaps we should leave now. They don’t have the kegs.”
“Hmm. I think you’re right.” He motioned at the wall of trees beside the road. “We’ll go through—”
A rumbling echoed through the clear sky. I looked up, shielding my eyes with my hand, expecting to spot more storm clouds rolling in. But the flash of broad wings against the blue found my eyes instead. Reykur soared toward us, bellowing fire. Plumes of smoke trailed his path.
Ivar paled and fell to his knees. He pressed his fingers to his lips, then touched the ground. “Freya, bless us. Please. Forgive me for what I’ve done.”
Reykur flew over our heads. He swept toward the ground, thundering onto the path on the other side of the cart. Such a clever boy, trapping the cart between us like that. But I didn’t want to get him involved in all this.
“Reykur, come!” I called out.
But he stayed right where he was, cocking his head at the shadow demons and the cart heavily laden with pies.
Sobs convulsed Ivar’s body. He peered up at me through tear-streaked eyes, his bottom lip trembling. “Take the damn pies. Just please…please don’t roast me.”
This was a very extreme reaction.
“Reykur is not going to roast you,” I said. “He’s just a friendly little dragon. He’s harmless, all right?”
“Hmm,” said Ragnar.
The tone of his grunt set my bones on edge. I snapped up my gaze. Reykur was creeping toward the cart, his forked tongue slashing at the two shadow demons. Their backs were turned toward me now so they could face him. I could clearly see their hands, and unlike what I’d assumed, they hid no weapons. They’d been bluffing.
