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Luna

“ I n this case, the Benefit of Magic is simple—the grains and honey used in the spirit are tended by earth-wielding fae. Their talent with the soil adds extra flavor to the rich honey liqueur. Expect the Sweet Solstice Sip to be the drink at upcoming solstice celebrations.

Ingredients:

Two parts Suden honey liqueur

One part traditional amber ale”

Any true benefits of magic were never simple, if they existed at all, but the phrase was an unfortunately catchy title for Sandrin’s go-to recommendation column.

I finished reading the article and skimmed the ingredients.

Making this would be simple.

I was pretty sure we had the spirit in the tavern already, which was good because this newest endorsement in The Bayside Times would surely be a hit—like all the others.

A cold breeze blew in, and I glanced up, setting aside the paper.

More customers opened the tavern door and found seats.

My smile was warm as I greeted them from my position behind the bar.

With each guest, the knot of worry in my chest loosened.

For the first time in what felt like years, the bar stools of Parkview Tavern were finally filling.

There were still empty tables.

That was fine because those seated chatted animatedly over warm dishes and stiff drinks while a few adventurous patrons mingled in between.

This place had been near-empty for too long.

My tense shoulders fell a few inches with my next deep breath.

Maybe it wouldn’t be anymore.

“No time for reading, Luna.” Earl, one of my regulars, pointed to the paper.

“You’ve got customers.”

“I was studying.” I pushed it toward him.

“Everyone is going to want this new drink.”

He laughed, skimming the column.

“If you say so.”

Our server, Evelyn, arrived with another order, and in the moments it took to pour two glasses of spirits, the door opened and closed again in the distance, bringing in more guests.

I passed the drinks to Evelyn and shimmied with delight, garnering looks from a few patrons at the bar.

They could laugh at me all they wanted.

This was cause for celebration.

It felt like only days ago that Seraphina had been considering closing.

Evelyn returned with another order in minutes.

“The new couple that sat down, they want that fashionable drink. The one that guy wrote about in the thing.”

“Ah-ha!” I beamed, shooting Earl a wink.

Evelyn could recite the continent’s history and knew the details of every fae court and their leaders, but she refused to bother cataloging social trends in that brilliant mind of hers.

Even without proper nouns, I knew this was what I’d been preparing for.

“It’s from ‘Benefits of Magic.’ The drink is the Sweet Solstice Sip. I was just telling Earl what a hit it would be.” I smirked at him again as I turned and began rummaging through the spirit bottles for the one I needed.

“No one has ordered that spirit in ages, but I’m sure we have some.”

“Yes, ‘Benefits of Magic,’ that’s what they said. Thank you.” Evelyn tucked a strand of black hair that fell loose from her braid behind her ear.

I could tell her mind was already elsewhere as she leaned against the bar, scanning her tables for guests needing refills.

“I’ll be right back.” She dashed off to a table that must have flagged her while I made her drinks.

Even if I disagreed with the column’s title, I liked that the author didn’t only recommend new things.

They shined a light on hidden gems.

This particular spirit had been available for years.

The column had simply repackaged it, making it feel unique and exclusive by emphasizing the proprietor’s magic.

Then they had invited readers to enjoy one on the upcoming holiday, seamlessly connecting the drink with festivities all of Sandrin celebrated.

Almost everything recommended in “The Benefits of Magic” was an instant hit.

The honey spirit was around here somewhere.

I let my fingers glide along a few bottles, trying to remember what it looked like.

The label was gold, and I thought it was clear glass?

We had bottles of all shapes and sizes lining multiple shelves.

Usually, I loved the chaos behind the bar, but at this particular moment, it proved inconvenient.

Spinning another label toward me, I continued my search.

I glanced at the tavern owner, Seraphina.

She hastily tied her blond hair back and rolled up her sleeves, exposing her white skin.

Her fingers moved across bottles, and she counted under her breath, doing a rough inventory.

The city’s workday wasn’t officially over, but the door opened again, and more customers entered.

We would be packed in a few more hours if things kept up.

Now that we had patrons, she was clearly nervous we wouldn’t have enough supplies, but it was unclear where she thought she’d get more if we ran out; I let her obsess over it anyway.

In my opinion, it was better not to know.

I’d improvise if necessary.

The cook could do the same in the kitchen.

Maybe that was how the Sweet Solstice Sip had been invented: necessity and ingenuity.

Humming to myself as I lifted a few more bottles, reading the labels, I doubted it.

The article noted the drink originated from one of the old fae establishments.

They didn’t cobble anything together.

They thrived on tradition and planning.

Two more bottles turned, and I found the golden label I sought.

Honey liqueur in hand, I grabbed a rocks glass and poured.

Earl caught my attention while I did.

“Any of these out-of-towners stop by that inn of yours this morning?”

My face fell briefly as I shook my head.

“Not that I saw.”

His returning smile was encouraging.

He meant well.

When not working here, I was the groundskeeper of Cliff House Inn.

Unfortunately, the inn hadn’t been doing well in recent years due to the lack of travel on the continent.

A mist plague had put many into an endless sleep and had only recently been lifted by the fae court leaders, the Compass Points.

We were all still adjusting to the impact.

Earl was right, though; I didn’t recognize many faces in the tavern.

If they were all visitors for the Long Night, they would need to stay somewhere.

“Maybe some will have inquired while I was here,” I added cheerfully.

Most visitors took care of their accommodations once they arrived in the city.

I shrugged.

Maybe the other inns would fill, and they’d have nowhere to go but Cliff House.

It was six weeks until Long Night, the celebration of the winter solstice in Sandrin.

The city by the bay was a crossroads on the continent.

It might not be Compass Lake, where the fae courts were ruled, but it was an energetic mix of human and fae, history and innovation.

The first set of visitors had arrived from the south today, and already, the city was more alive with the influx.

More would come before solstice.

A few ideas of things I could do to direct visitors to Cliff House Inn popped into my head.

Just as quickly, I dismissed them.

The inn manager made it very clear that I was only the groundskeeper.

He didn’t want my help and had repeatedly told me so.

In his view, I only lived in the cottage on the property and kept the grounds because my father owned the place.

Earl must have seen the worry in my expression.

“I’ll take one of those fancy drinks too Luna.” He paused dramatically.

“I want to be fashionable like the fae.”

I laughed and nodded.

Behind the bar, Seraphina bumped my hip affectionately as she finished counting the bottles.

“I can’t believe there are so many people.” Another group entered the tavern as she whispered, “We might actually make it.”

My smile widened.

“I always knew you would.” And I had.

This place meant everything to Seraphina, like Cliff House Inn to me.

Even when it had seemed bleak, she’d been determined to pull through.

“You certainly always had hope.” She snapped a towel at me playfully.

When she turned, I pretended not to notice her wiping what I could only assume was a tear from her eye.

Good.

She deserved this.

I hope she enjoyed it.

Evelyn returned with another order and gestured to a table in the back.

“She asked for you specifically, Luna.”

I glanced at the unfamiliar woman sitting there.

She wore a navy-blue dress, and not a strand of hair was out of place in her dark brown bob.

The fae were difficult to distinguish from humans.

They generally looked the same, except that every fae was extraordinarily beautiful.

Their only real tells were slow aging and some quirks of their magic.

This woman was stunning.

She had light brown skin and looked to be in her mid- twenties, although she carried herself with a superiority that made her seem older.

It was that, and the conservative dress, that led me to believe she was fae, and if she wasn’t part of one of the old fae families in Sandrin, she at least worked for one.

In Sandrin, there were fae, and there were old fae.

I didn’t think the distinction existed elsewhere on the continent.

The old fae in Sandrin were so named because the families had been here since the city’s creation.

They considered themselves founders of sorts.

A made-up title, but one that held weight for some reason.

As much as I loved reading about fae trends in the paper, no one would mistake me for one of them.

My dark brown hair was wild with waves and had uncommon white-blond streaks in the front.

It was messily tied atop my head, ensuring it didn’t get in my way while I worked.

My strapless golden top exposed too much pale skin.

The tavern was hot when it was filled, and I’d had a good feeling about today.

I’d even worn my lucky bright blue skirt.

It was a favorite because it matched my eyes.

The silk material fell to the floor but was made of slitted layers of fabric that appeared to move with me.

It was a purchase from the day I met Seraphina, the same day I arrived in the city.

I glanced at Seraphina.

“You alright behind the bar for a minute?”

She nodded, a brief look of concern crossing her face as she surveyed the woman.

I had no doubt she drew the same conclusion I did.

There weren’t many good reasons someone working for an old fae family would want to speak with me.

“I’ll be here if you need me.”

Wiping my hands on a dry towel, I collected the woman’s order and headed to the table.

Her smile was too warm at my approach.

Something twisted in my stomach with every step.

I knew what she would say before I arrived, though I had no idea why she was here.

The words I feared were out of her mouth before I set down the drink .

“Hello, Luna. I’m Nora, your father’s assistant.”

My stomach bottomed out.

I kept it together, apparently not needing to introduce myself since she knew me already.

She seemed perplexed by my lack of response but recovered quickly.

“He would like to speak with you.”

I bit the inside of my red-painted lips, trying to guess why.

My father and I hadn’t spoken in years.

The last time was when I’d moved to Sandrin after my mom’s death.

That was when he’d offered me the groundskeeper’s cottage at Cliff House.

My fingers twitched at my sides as I remembered the brevity of even that conversation.

He’d spent mere moments with me before retreating to Pierce House and leaving me to my grief.

“Why?” I raised my hands to my hips.

She looked briefly taken aback at the bluntness of my question, but again, she recovered quickly.

The old families of fae rarely asked what they wanted in the obvious way.

It would likely have taken one of them an hour to arrive at the question I dropped in Nora’s lap.

“He’d like to tell you that when he speaks with you.” She took a sip of the drink I’d delivered.

“And when does Darius want this conversation to take place?” I asked sweetly, knowing I would not like the response by the way she scrunched her nose.

“As soon as possible.” She cleared her throat.

“This afternoon is preferable.”

I glanced out the window.

It was afternoon now, nearly evening.

He meant for me to drop everything and come to him.

My hands balled into fists at my sides.

This was unreasonable.

I took a step closer, dropping my voice while keeping a smile plastered on my face.

“I’m not sure if you’re new, Nora, but my father and I don’t talk often, or at all. So, you’ll have to forgive me, but I need more information if I’m to leave my boss in the lurch to meet with him.” I hated to be rude even as I gestured to the filling tavern around us.

None of this was Nora's fault; she only did what she was told. She paused, considering. “It’s my understanding, Miss Luna, that he, too, is your boss. This conversation is about your other employment.”

I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling. Darius did ask very little of me at the inn. He didn’t exactly pay me, but he gave me a steep discount on the cottage rental. I would be hard-pressed to find a home that I loved as much anywhere else in Sandrin. Seraphina would understand, and if I went now, I could return before the evening meal rush.

“Alright.” I gestured toward the door. “Let’s get this over with.”