“Fuck.” Ragnar grabbed the bucket of paint. “I can’t let him get away. If he returns to the mainland without me, he’ll add your name to the bloody list.”
“What are you going to do with a bucket of paint? Don’t you want this dagger instead?” I shouted helplessly, watching him dash after the fire demon, who was already halfway across the meadow by now.
A heavy sigh sounded from behind me. I turned to spy Steffon sagging against the side of the wagon and puffing from a sweetly-scented pipe. He blew the smoke at me, then waved it in the air. “Want some? It’s very relaxing.”
I pointed at the two men darting around the cluster of carts. “There’s a fire demon mercenary running from an elf and threatening to burn the whole place down again. Also, I have a dagger, which you should probably be mad about.”
He tipped his head back, gazing at the cloudy sky above. “Don’t forget the dragon flying around with a cage.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that popped from my mouth. “It certainly can’t get any stranger than that.”
“Oh no.” He wagged his finger at me. “Don’t tempt fate like that. I’m sure it can come up with countless ways to make this year’s Yule one that will long be remembered.”
Shaking my head, I joined him at the wagon. I rested my shoulders against the wood and watched my dragon swoop ever closer to Ragnar and Lars. They’d slowed now that they’d reached the northern side of the meadow, where the mud had yet to fully dry. Every now and then, one of them would stumble. The sound of their squelching boots joined the chorus of Reykur’s growls. It was too amusing for the concern to take root inside me.
Steffon held out his pipe. I took a puff. Almost instantly, a lightness filled my head.
“Want to make a bet on what happens next?” he asked, his eyes half-lidded.
“My dragon is going to trap Lars in that cage,” I answered.
He nodded. “I won’t bet against that.”
Indeed, as Reykur drew close enough that his wings cast a shadow across Ragnar and Lars, he released the cage. It slammed into the ground only inches away from them both. Lars tried to run, but Ragnar caught his arm and tossed him through the open door. Then Ragnar slammed the bars right into Lars’s shocked face.
“Told you.” I smiled. “My dragon saves the day.”
34
LILIA
Once a lock had been procured, Reykur carted Lars out of Riverwold. I had a feeling he was taking him to the mines, where other captured criminals had been put to work by the dwarves. The world would be a better place with one less mercenary out there, running around stabbing people or setting fire to people’s homes.
Ragnar was quiet as we walked back to the inn. He was covered in mud from head to toe, but he scarcely seemed to notice. I supposed it had all come as a bit of a shock. He wouldn’t have expected that world to follow him here.
Nilsa fussed over him once we trudged inside, and she shooed him up the stairs for a hot bath. I found a spot at one of the tables and nursed a tankard of water. The hearth was roaring and the crowd was abuzz with conversation. But the easy calm from Steffon’s cigar smoke had abandoned me.
I gripped the tankard like it was keeping me tethered to the world. If I loosened my hand, I’d tumble into the jagged ravine below.
Everything had turned out fine. Ivar had turned over a new leaf, and the true culprit of the fire had been caught. Ragnar wouldn’t have to worry about repaying that debt any longer.
He had no reason now to return to the mainland.
I swallowed the aching lump in my throat, but it refused to budge. Ragnar could stay, if he wanted. He never had to go back.
But he hadn’t looked relieved after my dragon flew off, taking a caged Lars with him. If anything, his eyes had grown far more distant.
There was a chance he still wanted to leave. A goodbye now would hurt far worse than it would have before. Because it would be his choice.
I heaved a sigh, wishing my water was a big old barrel of ale. Maybe Nilsa could scrounge up some spirits for me.
Heavy footsteps tapped the floor. Ragnar rounded the table and dropped onto the bench across from me. Damp curls spilled across his shoulders. Nilsa must have found some clothes for him, as the pale gray tunic was just a tad too tight, highlighting the impressive strength of his biceps. He braced his arms on the table, noted my tankard of water, and motioned for Nilsa to bring him one over.
After a moment, he tapped a finger against the table. “Well.”
“Well,” I repeated.
“I had no idea Lars was involved in any of this.”
