Page 34 of A Tale of Mirth & Magic

E LIKKI

W hen we were finally sated and breathless, having tried a couple of new, slightly acrobatic positions, Barra and I readied ourselves for supper.

“So, I guess it’s safe to say you really do love my gift,” I teased with a coy smile as I rebuttoned my skirts. “Three orgasms is quite a show of appreciation.”

Barra stalked over to me, smoothed down my tousled hair, and tucked a lock gently behind an ear. “It could have been four if that nightstand hadn’t given out on us.” He bent and kissed the tip of my nose.

“Ahh, yes… we should probably pay for the damages. And get a sturdier replacement so we can try that move again.”

“Agreed,” he rumbled, straightening his shirt and overcoat. An uncertain, thoughtful look came into his eyes. But he turned away, righting a potted plant we’d knocked over.

“What is it? I’m not paying for the nightstand, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said with a laugh.

He fussed with the dirt that had spilled out, sweeping it into his palm and returning it to the pot. “It’s nothing,” he said, “Let’s get some supper.”

“Barra—” I came closer, concerned now. “Tell me?”

He turned, swallowing. “I was thinking,” he said, then hesitated again. Looking down at me, he brought his hand to where my pendant rested on his broad chest. He took a breath, then said, “I was thinking that I have a very sturdy nightstand in my bedroom at home.”

I stilled.

“If you wanted to—to visit. You could stay as long as you wanted. And my mas, my sisters, they’ll all love you, I know it—”

“Barra. Stop.” My voice was quiet but sharp as an icicle.

His mouth snapped shut. Hurt reflected at me from those smoky quartz eyes.

I crossed the room to where my cider sat, long forgotten. It had gone warm in the past hours, but I chugged down every drop. Wiped the back of a hand across my mouth. Buckling on the worn brown leather belt that carried my coin purse and favorite knife, I moved back to Barra and took his hand.

“Let’s go eat, okay?” I tugged him gently toward the door.

For a panicked second, I thought he would refuse. But he simply gave a small sigh that stung my heart and let me lead him stiffly out, down the staircase, and through the crowded inn tavern to the fresh air of the street below.

I linked an arm with his, and we wandered downhill, following the curve of golden magelights deeper into the thick of Rising Night revelry.

I waited until we came to a tavern full of merrymakers and loud with music before pulling us inside.

Barra lingered uncertainly near the door, scanning the room.

But I darted ahead through the crowd and snagged an empty back table with a sturdy-looking bench.

Waving him over, I plastered a smile on my face as he came near, moving his bulky body carefully through the scrum.

It seemed like everyone was out on the town tonight—drinking, laughing, and dancing to their heart’s content.

Folk tended to get a bit foolhardy in Kurriel at the end of each month, a swelling energy that was released through the night’s celebrations.

Supposedly in honor of the goddess, our kingdom’s dual-souled deity.

For as much as I liked the idea of the goddess and her open-hearted mysteriousness, on Rising Nights I usually just felt grateful, like most people, to have an excuse to go a bit feral once a month in whatever random town’s pub I frequented at the time.

I hadn’t felt that swelling pressure in my mind over these past days, but it hit me hard now. Goddess, I needed a drink.

Barra slid onto the bench next to me, keeping a wary few inches between us. “El, are you sure you want to eat here?” He raised his voice a bit to be heard over the music. “I feel like we should go someplace to talk.”

I scooted closer to him, eliminating the space between our bodies. Yelled into his ear, “This place is great! I’ll get us some food!”

With another fake grin, which he didn’t return, I bounced up and shimmied through the crowd to the bar. I could feel his gaze on my back. I didn’t dare turn around.

After placing our order—two house specials, one cinnamon tea for Barra, and a large pint of ale for me—I dawdled there for a bit longer, taking in the scene and thinking of anything I could to not let myself think of his words in the bedroom. His offer.

I downed that pint quickly and ordered another. Suddenly, I spied a couple of friendly faces from the Artisans Guild nearby. Screaming our hellos at each other, we hugged and began to talk over one another about our days, the performers, the cute bartender.

One of them—Cookie, I think his name was? Toffee?—bought shots for the three of us. Some local specialty he called sapsa, deep green and herbal smelling. It burned my throat, squeezing tears out of my eyes. I ordered another round.

We toasted again—To the night! To new friends! To our skilled fingers and to sexy bartenders!—and tossed them back, laughing riotously through the searing sting, pungent green liquid clinging to our fingers.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Barra still seated at the back, watching me.

A server had dropped off our meals at some point.

I flagged down the bartender and got one more pint, telling myself that this would be the last one.

After saying my goodbyes to Cookie and Mera—Sera?

—I turned, keeping that smile fixed on my face as I wove over to our table.

Pecking a kiss on Barra’s cheek, I slid in close to him on the bench.

“Mmm, this looks delicious,” I said, picking up a fork and diving into the plate of roast potatoes, honey-glazed carrots, and some kind of mystery meat.

“El,” Barra said, a warm hand rubbing my back. “Are you all right?”

“Of course I am!” I said. Spearing another potato, I grinned wildly and held it up to him. “You should try these! Eat, eat. Look at you, you’re wasting away.”

He opened his mouth and accepted the food, chewing slowly as he watched me with steady, dark eyes. I broke our gaze. Focusing on my plate, I sawed into the meat with vigor.

“I want to explain,” he said. “About what I said earlier. El, can we please just talk about it—”

“Actually!” I said, leaping up, my silverware clattering to the table. “Actually, I’m pretty full! I’m going to dance for a bit. Back soon!”

“Wait, you’ve hardly eaten—” Barra reached out to me, but I pretended not to notice and shimmied away into the crowd.

He wouldn’t follow. The people, all moving together, packed close—I knew it was the last place he would want to be.

Some better, smarter part of me said, What are you doing?

This is all wrong. Working my way to the main dance floor tucked next to the far corner of the bar, I chugged the rest of my pint and slammed it on the counter.

Shut the fuck up , I told that voice. It faded to a distant whisper, drowned out by the loud instruments, the shouts and laughter surrounding me, the pleasant buzzing in my head that told me the alcohol was doing its job.

I found my new guild friends again and we danced, and danced, and danced.

Laughing about nothing, I spun around, flung from one set of arms to the next.

It was a reel, then a jig, and then I was twirling my skirts alone in the middle of a circle.

Around and around. Faces blurred, colors smearing into a whirlwind, the fiddles scratching in my ears.

Around and around and around. I couldn’t feel my feet, and my body was something else entirely, but hands grabbed at mine, sweaty and hot.

This was fun. This was fine. Hair was plastered on my face, in my eyes.

I tried to fling the strands away, the movement sending another dizzying jolt through my pounding head.

The music was a wall of sound that pressed against me, hard and fierce.

More hands grabbed at me, cackling laughter spiking my ears.

I should stop. I should stop. I needed to get away.

Hot bodies surrounded me, pushing me along with their rhythm. Their mad joy. I twisted now, searching for an exit with eyes that couldn’t focus. My throat was tightening, chest heaving. I was alone. How to get out. Had to get out.

Strong, cool arms encircled me. A pocket of air. People moving away.

The arms held me lightly, not close. One on my back, just touching. One brushed the hair out of my eyes with gentle fingers. Someone peering worriedly into my face. Barra.

The crowd of drunken revelers had quieted a bit around us, but a new lively song struck up, and everything carried on again. It was as if there was a bubble around the two of us. Everyone kept their slight distance from the tall half-giant, and for once I was glad of their wariness.

I took deep breaths. My racing heart slowed.

Barra held me steady, hands roving quickly once to make sure I was all right. His chin jutted toward the exit, eyes questioning. Do you want to leave?

I clung to him. Shook my head slightly. Not yet.

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rested my cheek against his chest and let my hazy eyes drift closed. He was so steady, solid. The music faded away. His arms stayed snug around me, where they belonged, his chin just grazing the top of my head.

I swayed us gently, ignoring the rhythm, and Barra followed my lead. Everything stopped spinning. I could feel the hard wooden floor beneath my boots and hear the calm pounding of his heartbeat.

It was just the two of us, alone. Alone together.

I don’t know how long we stood there. But at some point, I reached up on my tiptoes, teetering for a moment before his arms tightened around me. I kissed him hard, greedy. As if I could keep him with me like this forever if I just kept my lips against his. As if this wasn’t a goodbye.