“Then why don’t you get washed up and put on some dancing clothes? Some of the bakers have gotten started on their breads, and others are mixing up some stews. The performers have even been chattering about taking to the stage. I think tonight we should have a mini-party to celebrate the saving of Yule.”
I cracked a grin. “So, you want to celebrate the fact we get to have a celebration?”
“The festival grounds have been miserable the past few days. Some of the visitors have been talking about heading off. Let’s give them a reason to stay, yes?”
“And what will I serve them?” I asked. “My brew won’t be ready for a few days.”
“Just enjoy yourself for once. Have some cake or some stew and relax.” He took my hands in his and squeezed them gently. “You earned it, Lilia. This is all thanks to you.”
“Not just me,” I said. “My friend I told you about, the one I called in a favor from? She’s the one who gave me all this food. And if anyone should be thanked for this, it’s her.”
He nodded. “Well then, you tell her she’s welcome in Riverwold anytime, and I’ll be sure she gets her proper thanks.”
“Even if she’s a mountain troll?” I arched a brow.
Surprise flickered across Steffon’s face, but then he smiled. “Like I said, she’s welcome here anytime. Now go get dressed. It’s time for us to have some fun.”
28
LILIA
My wagon was scrubbed and polished and open for business. Well, it would be if I had any ale. Ragnar had helped me set up the tables and chairs beneath the willow tree. Silver banners etched with clinking tankards hung just over the serving window, and my awning swept from the top of the wagon to wooden poles we’d shoved into the muddy ground. To make up for the sludge, we’d even carried some fallen sticks over from the forest to create a makeshift wooden floor.
I stepped back to observe the wagon in all its glory. Ragnar slung an arm around my shoulders, shoving the sharp end of a shovel into the ground.
“I see what you mean now,” he said with an appreciative smile. “You’ve built yourself a proper tavern. This is far better than what I would have set up with my wagon.”
“Thank you. It took several years to get it to this point. ‘Course, it needs a fresh coat of paint now, but it’ll do.”
“It will more than do, Lilia.” He turned to me, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. Everything within me tightened. “So. Yule is less than a week away.”
Oh. Swallowing, I cast my gaze at the ground. “It’s the sixth night from now, yes.”
“How long do you normally stay in Riverwold after the festival?”
“I…usually leave at first light the next morning before most people wake. If I waited any longer, I could get stuck in the long line of carts going up the hill on the way out.”
“Choosing the empty road over the crowds. That does sound like you,” he murmured.
“It’s easier. And it means I can be on my way to the next destination,” I said, trying to explain myself.
“And where do you normally go after Riverwold?”
Sighing, I forced myself to look up from the mud and meet his gaze. But as soon as I did, my resolution began to waver. Those eyes of his always seared me, always saw through the defenses I erected around my heart. I left by first light because I didn’t want to stay anywhere long enough to get attached to any one place. I was here for Yule and nothing more. There was no reason for me to stay longer.
Except for the man standing before me now. But he was leaving, too.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I said softly. “I don’t always have a specific location in mind. The next place I want to visit after this is the dwarven city for their annual competition, but that’s not for a few more months yet. I might head to Oakwater first. I like it there a lot. It has some of the prettiest forests I’ve seen in my life. And…” I stopped, swallowing. I’d been rambling too much. “What about you, Ragnar? Where will you go next?”
His jaw tightened. “I suppose I’ll return to the mainland. My brother’s debt to Lars won’t pay for itself.”
“How much is it?” I asked.
“The debt?”
I nodded. “How much do you have to pay back?”
“Two hundred gold coins.”
