Page 2

Chapter

Two

The morning of our game’s first session, it’s easier to get out of bed than it has been for weeks. Rather than having the day stretch out before me, intimidatingly empty and directionless, I’ve got an agenda. I’ve got—

“Coffee, Sadie!” Liam calls up the stairs.

That, too.

I roll out of bed, careful not to disturb a still-sleeping Howard—whose alliance with me I suspect might have Liam feeling jealous—and trot downstairs to the kitchen, where Liam stands leaning against the counter.

He’s got on dark shorts and a green button-up, short hair already carefully combed in a stylish sweep to the side.

Liam has never dressed casually a day in his life.

“Morning.” He’s not entirely successful at hiding the surprise in his tone when I appear so shortly after his summoning. He’s probably grown used to me reheating my coffee closer to noon—but that’s when today’s game starts. “You excited?”

“Something like that,” I tease. I grab for my coffee, which isn’t in its usual mug, but in a paper takeout cup. “What’s this?”

“A latte from Busy Bean down the street. Best in town, and I thought we deserved a treat today.” He pauses. “You should check them out sometime—or we can go together.”

I nod distractedly and take a sip, not registering much taste beyond hot.

I hadn’t picked up on it the first time, when Liam asked me a couple of weeks ago to water his plants in the backyard while he was at work.

Or the day after that, when he asked me to drop off a few letters for him at the post office.

But eventually I noticed how he seemed to have one small, innocuous errand for me every day.

Some tiny excuse to get me out of the house—or even just out of the guest room.

I’d resented it at first and ignored it more than once.

But somewhere along the line, I’d started to look forward to my little daily quests.

“Wake me up next time,” I offer. “I’ll go with you.”

Liam straightens and smiles. “Okay.”

But those errands are small potatoes compared to the big weekly commitment I’ve signed myself up for—participating in fantasy-improv with a bunch of strangers. I glance toward the front door, half expecting them to barge right in.

When I take another drink of coffee, it’s bracing.

“Walk me through who’s playing again?”

Liam rolls his own cup between his palms. “They’re all beginners like you—never played before.

” It was the first thing he’d assured me of when he initially pitched the idea of starting a summer D the other two I know from work. Julie teaches orchestra at the middle school, right down the hall from me.” He winces at what I’m guessing is the memory of children sawing away at out-of-tune stringed instruments.

“And Morgan works at the bookstore downtown. After summer school hours, I like to pick up shifts there to keep myself busy.”

I huff out a laugh through my nose. Running ourselves ragged for work is something Liam and I have in common.

Well. Had in common.

Before my sullen silence has a chance to stretch and fill the kitchen, Liam continues seamlessly. “Should probably get dressed, Sadie. I told Jules she could come early to prep snacks.”

I glance down at my cotton PJ shorts and oversized high school marching band shirt. Maybe not the best choice for my very first adventure. “I’ll fetch my cloak and sword,” I tease dryly.

I hike back to the guest room, and as I tug on a tank top, a car pulls up outside of the house. Curious to catch my first glimpse of the other players, I inch up the window blinds with a fingertip and peer down at the driveway.

But it’s not Julie who’s arrived early—instead, a burly man climbs out onto the pavement and waves at the driver before the car pulls away.

This must be Noah.

The bard.

I can’t help but snort. I would never call this lumberjack of a man cute —at least, not in the boyish, clean-cut way that Liam normally means.

Brawny, maybe, I think, noting how the thin fabric of his green flannel stretches across his broad shoulders.

His hair, long and bound in a messy bun at the back of his neck, shines copper-penny red in the sunlight, darkening to a muted red-brown as he steps under the shade of a tree.

I can tell he’s tall just by the way he has to duck.

He scrubs a hand over his red beard as he glances down at his phone and then up at the house, probably to make sure he’s in the right place.

Just as I decide on the scientific classification of ruggedly handsome, I swear he hears my thoughts and tips his head up to meet my gaze—surely I imagine the way his teeth flash a white smile in the tangle of his beard. I jerk back from the window just as another car arrives.

I shake my head, feeling chagrined. No more spying. Time to meet this adventuring party face-to-face.

“I’ll make you rich.”

The merchant drops a burlap sack on the table—where it lands with a heavy thud—and slides it toward Jaylie. The clink of coins inside is enough to make Jaylie inhale sharply in surprise. But it’s not enough to convince her.

“I’ve heard that before, Dorna,” she says airily. “But I’m not after the money.”

Dorna smirks and rolls her eyes upward toward the dusty rafters of the old tavern.

“All you priestesses are the same, claiming you’re above earthly temptations, hm?

But I know the church of Marlana could use the money, and you won’t turn away a donation of this size.

You take this job, and there’s much more than that in your future.

I suppose it’s your lucky day, isn’t it? ”

Jaylie withholds a sigh. As a cleric of Marlana, the Goddess of Luck, she’s heard that joke many times before. But Dorna’s not wrong. She could use the money.

“Anyway,” the older woman continues, tracing the pad of one ring-laden finger around the rim of her mug of ale, “this job is specially made for you, Jay. And I’m even giving you a team.

” Dorna’s muddy brown eyes spark as she leans forward, resting the bulk of her well-muscled figure on top of the table.

Her leather armor creaks with the movement.

Interesting. Jaylie isn’t used to working with others. “When can I meet them?”

“Right now.”

Jaylie’s brows shoot up, and Dorna looks smug to have caught her off guard. “Wait here, aye?” Before Jaylie can protest, Dorna’s already on her feet and out the door of the small private dining room. The wood of the door is so old and warped that she can’t shut it all the way behind her.

Jaylie winces. Dorna has brought her solid job opportunities before, but it’s always a wonder that she insists on conducting her business in such an absolute shithole.

On a whim, Jaylie reaches for the merchant’s mug and takes a quick swig of liquid courage—or liquid sewage, from the taste of it.

Marlana’s mercy, that’s awful. Trying not to gag, she presses the back of her hand to her mouth and shoots up a prayer to her goddess instead, hoping she can make a good impression on this group of strangers.

She needs this to work out—every coin counts.

Suddenly aware of her travel-worn appearance, she twists the messy golden waves of her hair into a quick bun just as the door creaks open again.

Dorna reenters and steps aside as an assortment of dusty travelers files in.

Jaylie is surprised to discover that she and Dorna are the only humans in attendance, but from the way the newcomers size one another up, Jaylie assumes this is the first time they’re meeting, too.

Good—she’s not at a disadvantage. As everyone moves to find a seat, Jaylie casts a sidelong glance at the purple-skinned giant of a man who sinks into the chair to her immediate left.

He bares his fanged teeth at her, and Jaylie can’t tell if he is smiling or snarling; she’s far too distracted by the obsidian bull-like horns jutting from his temples to get a good look at his face.

A tiefling ! She’s heard stories about tieflings, and how you can recognize them by their horns or pointed tails.

Supposedly they’re the descendants of the devils of Hell, or the products of dark infernal magic.

Spooky as the stranger might appear, though, she knows this man’s devilish heritage gives him power—and rippling muscles, it seems. Badass.

“My friends.” Dorna stands at the head of the table and spreads her arms wide.

All eyes swing to look at her. “How glad I am to finally get you all in the same room. I know we’ve had our separate business relationships, and all of you have worked with me as mercenaries for years.

But for an opportunity like this, well—we could use a bit of teamwork.

” She straightens suddenly and snaps her fingers.

Annoyingly on cue, a tired barmaid sweeps in with a tray full of new mugs of ale.

Internally groaning, Jaylie prays for a strong constitution to face such poison again while Dorna smiles beatifically.

“Introductions are in order. First off—”

“That’s sweet of you, Dorna, but it’s unnecessary. I’m sure I needno introduction.”

The elven stranger speaks with a smooth, lilting accent before Dorna can continue, and while the merchant’s smile freezes on her face, she seems unsurprised.

Amused, Jaylie turns toward the speaker sitting across from her, and she swears his green eyes twinkle as they meet her gaze.

He rises from his seat and regally inclines his head toward the crew like a lord presiding over his court.

“But, if I must—I am Loren. Loren Rosewood.”