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All except for Aimee. Sitting on the other side of Taly, she peered at the thick brown broth in her bowl like it might bite her.

“It’s called oshi,” Taly explained. “It’s made with anything in the kitchen that’s leftover. Bones, vegetable peels, shells—it all goes into the pot for the broth, and while the end result looks like sludge, it tastes good.”

“Almost good enough to make me forget how terrible the liquor is,” Kato added around a mouthful of noodles.

“Be happy you have any liquor at all,” Aiden shot back. “My uncle wasn’t exactly keen on the earth mages prioritizing alcohol—until I pointed out that a drunk population can’t stay on their feet long enough to mutiny.”

“Well then.” Kato stood, raising his glass. “To the man that saved us all from the existential horror of sobriety.”

Then those amber eyes slid to Taly. She shook her head in warning.

Kato’s grin only widened. “And to the lady of the hour—ourSAVIOR.” He shouted the last word, giving up any pretense of keeping a low profile. “The girl that managed to survive long enough for someone to come find her. Taly, of all the damsels I’ve had to rescue, I like you the least.”

Taly felt the ripple of attention sweep over her again, like needles pricking at her senses. But she took a breath—if this was the cost of stepping back into the world, of belonging, then so be it.

Hanging her head, she stood to the round of applause from the table, which drew even more clapping—plus a few hoots and whistles—from the rest of the bar. She gave a bow to the table, then a grand wave to the room. Through a too-sweet smile, she grit out, “I hate you all. Especiallyyou.” She kicked Skye’s shin beneath the table, which only made him clap louder.

“Also, while we’re toasting,” she added, picking up her glass. “To Kato’s balls. Because if you ever call me a damselagain, I’m going to reach down your throat and pull them out through your mouth.”

Kato tipped his head back and laughed, even as Aimee lifted her glass and proclaimed with too much enthusiasm, “Hear! Hear!”

With that, they all knocked back their glasses.

“Holy shit, that’s fucking terrible,” Taly wheezed. She had to take a sip of ale just to get the taste out of her mouth, then remembered, that wasn’t any better. “Are you really responsible for this, Aiden?”

“You know what, fuck you, Taly!” Aiden barked, grinning widely. “It might not be good, but it gets the job done.”

Taly lifted her glass again. “To the slogan for Aiden’s new brewery.”

Aimee sniffed. “Accurate branding, at least.”

The others raised theirs in turn. The room was still watching. But the more they laughed, the more she drank, the less anything else mattered.

Chapter 24

Half an hour later, Taly was still waiting on their drink order, pushed into the farthest corner of the bar, her chin resting in one hand.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” Aimee said by way of greeting, hopping onto one of the barstools.

“Humans get served last.” To demonstrate, Taly held up a hand, trying to signal the man at the other end of the bar. When nothing happened, she stood on the brass footrest that ran the length of the battered wood counter, waving frantically with both hands.

The ruddy-faced Lowborn never turned her way.

“See,” she said and fell back on her stool.

Aimee frowned. “Well,” she said after a moment, “that simply won’t do.”

She lifted a finger—a single, demure finger.

The bartender immediately came running. “My Lady—”

But Aimee shushed him, sliding that finger to Taly. “Do you know who this is?”

“Aimee, you really don’t have to—”

But Aimee shushed her too, never taking her eyes away from the bartender, who was now looking between the two women, confused and increasingly panicked.

Taly knew the moment he realized his mistake. Humans didn’t typically wear silk and velvet, and they didn’t drink with Highborn. And now that Aimee had made a fuss, people were looking, whispering, craning their head and trying to get a closer look at what was happening with their “Savior.”