Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(25)
She stared up at me, her eyes bright, then rubbed the spot with her shirt. “No, I did not know that. I’ve never had ale before.”
“You’ve never—that is absolutely unacceptable,” Lilia interjected with a quick shake of her head. She snatched Daella’s empty tankard and poured her another drink. “The first one was on the house for you saving me from that bastard’s grubby hands. This one’s on the house because every woman deserves to have a little fun sometimes. Drink up and enjoy yourself tonight.”
“It’s different than what I expected,” Daella said, lifting the tankard to her lips and sniffing. “I heard ale was bitter, but this is quite sweet.”
“That’s Lilia’s brew for you,” I said with a smile. “It’s the best ale in all the Isles, maybe even beyond. I doubt any tavern in the Grundstoff Empire can compare.”
She nodded as she took a smaller sip this time. “I believe you must be right.”
A few other patrons stumbled up to the bar, and my sister shooed us away with a fond smile and an unfortunate wink in my direction. I knew what she was thinking. She’d said as much before. Daella was a beauty, and there was a spark about her. Lilia had always said I needed someone in my life like that. Someone with edges rough enough to understand me but soft enough to bring a little brightness into my ‘dreary hermit life’, as she liked to call it.
But what Lilia just didn’t understand was that I was happy on my own. I didn’t want or need anyone else other than Skoll. In fact, upending my life to make room for someone else would only get in the way of what I needed to do most in this world: protect Hearthaven and the other islands. And even more than that, I couldn’t risk trusting the wrong person, let alone one who worked for the emperor—even if they were forced to.
Still, I understood what Lilia saw in the half-orc. With the fireflies dancing around her head, their yellow glow illuminating her brilliant sage-green skin, she looked achingly beautiful tonight.
I cleared my throat and motioned at a nearby elf with long auburn hair. “That’s Kari. She’s one of the contestants this year. Smart as a whip.”
“Good to know. Who else?”
I scanned the crowd and picked out a purple-winged pixie chattering with her partner, a dwarf who, incidentally, had also been chosen this year. Should be interesting. “Those two are in it this year. The pixie’s name is Nina. She’s a firecracker who loves to cook. Her partner there, Hege, is a carpenter, and she’s stronger than she looks.”
“She looks pretty damn strong,” Daella said, taking another sip of her ale.
“Then we have Godfrey.” I pointed to the lanky human lurking by the bar. He was new to the village, and I didn’t know much about him. Then I shifted my attention to the fire demon, one of the earliest residents of Wyndale since the humans left. “And that’s Viggo. Strong, powerful, determined. I’d say he’s the most likely to win, other than me.”
“And Gregor of course,” Daella said.
“Yes, if he cheats.”
“And what’s the likelihood of that happening?”
“High. That’s why we’ll keep an eye on him.”
Suddenly, the bard began singing an upbeat tune, his voice wailing through the market square. Half of the folk crammed into the tables leapt to their feet and made space in the center for the dance floor. It was early in the night, but we’d already reached this point. Things were about to get rowdy.
Once there was a northern troll
Whose face looked like a big blue mole!
He pranced around as if to rule
But he was nothing but an icy fool!
Daella turned to me, her eyes sparkling. “This is about Isveig. I’ve heard rumors that people call him a mountain troll when they think they can get away with it.”
I nodded. “Bards are particularly fond of the nickname.”
“I have to dance to this,” she said in an excited whisper. “It’s too fun of a song to pass up.”
“You really do hate him,” I said with a bemused smile as she downed the rest of her drink.
After handing me her tankard, she joined the dance floor and spun in circles with the others. I found myself tapping my foot after a few moments, watching her whirl and dip and clap to the beat. I was so caught up in the music I didn’t notice Gregor approach until his shoulder slammed against mine.
I stiffened as I turned on him, liquid anger racing through my veins. He wore a fitted midnight blue tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a glittering golden crown atop his head—the first gift he’d won from the island. The magic of this place hadn’t made him king, but it had allowed him to have a crown. What a waste of a gift. Out of instinct, I reached for the dagger at my belt, but he held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Whoa now,” he said with a guttural laugh, though there was no merriment in his eyes. “I’m just coming to say hello.”
“You never say hello to me, Gregor.”
“You got me there.” His teeth flashed as he smiled. “Mostly, I wanted to give you a warning. Because of who you are, I’m willing to overlook what your orc friend over there did earlier, but Rivelin, lad, you need to keep her in line. If she attacks me again, I’ll be forced to do something about it.”