“I’m not sure. Maybe.” I cut my eyes toward him. “I might need some help.”
He arched a brow. “Some help, eh? I’m afraid you might be out of luck. Nilsa seems entirely too busy to handle anything else right now.”
“You know what? You’re right. It sounds like she’s up to her elbows in food orders. And since I can’t think ofanyoneelse to ask,” I said with a slight smile, “I guess that means I’ll have to manage it all by myself.”
“Good thing you’re capable of doing anything you put your mind to, Lilia.”
I elbowed him in the side. “You’re really going to make me come right out and ask, aren’t you?”
He caught my arm and twirled me to face him. The heat in his eyes rushed over me, lighting up every inch of my skin. It took everything in me not to melt beneath his gaze. “You don’t have to ask. Tell me what to do, and I’m all yours.”
My heartbeat thrummed in my neck. “For the festival.”
“Right. The festival.”
I swallowed as he edged closer, backing me up against the wall. He palmed the stone on either side of my head, leaned in, and pressed his lips to my ear. An uncontrollable shiver coursed through me. His breath caressed my skin.
“I need to sort out some things in my wagon,” he murmured, his lips gently moving against my ear. I barely even latched on to the meaning of his words, too focused on his chest against mine, my back against the wall, and the scent of his fire roaring through me. “Come find me when you’re ready for me.”
22
LILIA
“Lilia! Oh, thank fate. I need your help.” Nilsa’s normally smooth black hair had sprang free of its braid, and curling, frizzy strands stuck out in all directions. Green and purple stains garnished her apron, and a few breadcrumbs clung to her cheek. Just over her shoulder, the entire kitchen was in disarray, and her partner was nearly hidden behind a pile of teetering pans. I hovered just inside the back door, tempted to retrace my steps into the alley.
“Are you quite all right, Nilsa?” I carefully asked.
Nilsa latched onto my arm and hauled me inside. “Did you see the line out the door? How many more people are waiting? Where’s Steffon? He promised to help chop those potatoes, and then he escaped when I wasn’t watching him.”
She pointed at an overturned crate in the corner, where she’d pulled together a makeshift workstation. Two dozen potatoes piled on top of it, peeled but not chopped.
“He’s off trying to restore some order, I think,” I told her. “I’ve got an idea on how to save Yule.”
She sagged against me. “Thank fate. I don’t know how much longer I can cook like this.”
“Ican cook, you mean,” Herold called out over the pile of pans. “You’re over there chatting up a storm while I’m melting at the stove all by myself!”
“It’s going to take a few days to sort out some more food. In the meantime, we’ll get you some help.” I rolled up my sleeves. “Where should I start?”
Nilsa motioned at the potatoes Steffon had abandoned. After washing my hands, I got stuck in. I’d helped Nilsa out in the kitchen before, so I knew how she liked her potatoes sliced, and I knew where to find a bowl to hold them. The next hour passed quickly, my mind calming from the steady work. Every now and then, the thought of Ragnar made me forget what I was doing. His eyes and those rough, steady hands. I hadn’t yet asked him about what he’d done at Ivar’s cart, how he’d known the words that only dragons and orcs could understand.
As I worked, the back of my neck prickled, like someone was watching me. But when I looked up, it was just Nilsa and Herold there, focused on their cooking. Shaking my head, I got back to chopping. The long days were clearly wearing on me.
Eventually, the crowd in line for food began to thin, and Nilsa bustled over and shooed me toward the stairs. “Thanks for your help. You look dead on your feet. Go get some rest. But tomorrow morning, I want to hear everything. And I do meaneverything.”
Nilsa was right. Exhaustion hung around me like a rain-logged cloak, dragging down my eyelids. I trudged up the stairs and climbed into bed fully clothed. A part of me wondered if I should go to Ragnar’s wagon and invite him inside, but my eyes slid shut before I could swing my feet back onto the floor.
* * *
Iknocked on the side of Ragnar’s wagon, awkwardly trying not to spill the mug of tea I’d carried out for him. My other hand was weighed down by my own, steam curling from the top. Overhead, a bright morning sun lit the festival grounds. The mud had finally begun to dry out, and merchants were beginning to unpack their carts and wagons again.
Waiting for Ragnar’s response to my knock, I bounced from foot to foot, wondering if I should try again later. He’d told me to come by anytime, but that had been yesterday. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he regretted kissing me? What if he’d slept on things and realized he was better off keeping a distance from the girl whose dragon ate all the pie?
After several too-long moments passed, I turned back to town, swallowing down my disappointment.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Ragnar’s deep, melodic voice sounded from behind me.
My heart kicked my ribs. Trying not to look too overeager, I slowly turned back toward him and shrugged. “Thought I’d find someone more interested in this tea.”
