Page 19

Eighteen

Lira eyed the dough as she cut the last triangle and transferred it to the baking sheet. She was reasonably sure she’d mastered the mixture for the scones, but her gran had never added cinnamon into her dough.

It’s the influence of the chai, she thought as she glanced at her earthenware mug on the table, steam still spiraling from the hot drink.

Then she caught sight of Crumpet holding the wooden spoon she’d used to mix the scone dough, dainty licking it. “You think it’s good?”

“The wee beast is the judge now, is he?” Sass asked as she and Iris walked back into the kitchen holding their own mugs of chai.

“Tease all you want, but Crumpet knows his pastry.”

Iris lifted her mug. “I have to say that I’m pleasantly surprised by the spiced tea. I can see why you love it.”

“Aye, it goes down easy.” Sass took a long gulp from her mug. “It doesn’t warm you like whiskey, but it doesn’t muddle your head either.”

“Let’s try to limit the whiskey drinking during the day.”

Sass shrugged. “As you wish.”

Lira picked up her own chai and took a wary sip, careful not to let it burn her tongue as she swallowed. She closed her eyes as the milky tea slid down her throat, the spices warming her from the inside out.

“The tavern looks as good as new, pet.” Iris put a hand on Sass’s shoulder. “I never thought I’d see it like this again.”

Almost, thought Lira. They might have given it a good spit-and-polish, but it still didn’t have the cheerful conversation spilling from the doors or mouthwatering aromas clinging to the air. Not yet.

Crumpet let out a shrill chittering sound, fluttering his tiny paws at the oven and flapping his wings.

Lira yanked open the door, waving a hand in front of her face as acrid smoke belched from inside. “Hells and cinders!”

She snatched a rag from the counter, using it to retrieve the hot pans and clang them onto the stovetop. Crumpet had flown out the window once smoke started to fill the room, and both Iris and Sass coughed as Lira shut the oven door again.

“This oven is a menace,” Lira said once she’d fanned away enough smoke to see that only a few of the scones were burned, and the ones at the other end of the pan were still pale.

“That’s the gods honest truth.”

The gravelly voice startled her into dropping the cloth, as she realized that Durn had entered the kitchen behind Sass and Iris.

“You gave me a fright, Durn.” Iris pressed a hand to her heart as she turned to the tavernkeeper.

“My Alma complained about that oven something fierce,” Durn said after acknowledging Iris with a tip of his head. “She said it would be the death of her. ”

Iris's face constricted, and she seemed on the verge of comforting him when he turned and left as abruptly as he’d arrived. Once he was gone, she shook her head. “That man has been a right mess for too long.”

“It means he loved her,” Sass said, her own voice husky. “The price for sunlight is shadows.”

Lira wondered if that was another of Sass’s mum’s sayings, but she didn’t ask.

Sass drained her tea and set the mug on the counter. “I’d better get back out there. That bar isn’t going to polish itself.”

Lira slid the scones onto a plate and then started to tenderly scrape the bunt bits off the corners with the edge of her dagger. “I should be able to salvage most of these.”

Iris eyeballed the puffy triangles. “This isn’t one of your gran’s recipes.”

“Not entirely. These are her scones, but I added cinnamon. I thought they would go well with the chai.”

Iris took one of the slightly burned scones and bit into it from the side that wasn’t scorched. Then her eyelids fluttered, and she released a sound of pure pleasure. “Delicious.”

Lira’s pulse quickened. “Truly?”

“I could eat these all day,” Iris mumbled through a mouthful as crumbs scattered from her lips. “Not that I would say no to some of her teacakes.”

Crumpet had snuck back in on silent feet and was swiping each burnt bit as soon as it dropped from Lira’s blade. Lira took a bite of the scone she was holding, smiling as she savored the buttery crumbly texture that was infused with the sweetness of the cinnamon.

Iris finished her scone, even devouring the burned edges, swallowing and locking her eyes onto Lira. “You’ve done your gran proud with these.”

Lira wanted to soak that in but there was something else she wanted more. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what, love? ”

“Teach me all those things when I visited you. I know my gran didn’t send me to you to learn to pick locks and grapple with daggers. Did she know?”

Iris's expression twisted then her brow smoothed as she released a breath. “Elia knew everything. Do you think I would have done any of that without her blessing?”

Lira shook her head. “But she was a crofter. She taught me to gather eggs and bake. She took me in when my mother died, and my elf father was long gone. Why would she want me learning any of that?”

Iris let her gaze flicker to the doors, but whether she was hoping for a reprieve or hoping no one was behind them to hear, Lira didn’t know. “It doesn’t matter how lovely a village is, there will always be those who cannot stay and those who cannot leave. Your gran was one who couldn’t stay until much later in life, when she needed to. She suspected that you might be the same, and she wanted you to be able to make your way in the world.”

Lira scoffed at this and then pressed on, guessing at something she’d suspected for years. “Did she know you were once a rogue?”

Iris smiled and put her hand over Lira’s. “Of course, she did. That’s how we met, love. We ran together long before you were a thought, long before even your mother was a glimmer.”

A far away ringing started in Lira’s head, as if warning her not to push farther, not to ask the next logical question. The truth waited like a precipice before her; one more step and she would fall. “Ran together?”

Iris's eyes crinkled as she held Lira’s, not a sliver of deception in the soft green. “We were on a crew together when we were young. I was, well, you know what I was.”

“And my gran?” Lira's voice was so low she wondered for a moment if she'd only imagined asking the question. Her heart thrashed in her chest, a desperate rhythm against her ribs, as if trying to escape what was coming.

“Love, your gran was the mage.”

She blinked at Iris slowly, the world seeming to blur at the edges, before giving her head a shake that felt as though it might unravel her completely. “What?”

Before Iris could repeat her words, Lira held up a hand. “No, I heard you, but I don’t believe you. My gran couldn’t have been a mage. She would have told me.” Her voice cracked, splintering like thin ice beneath too much weight, the idea that she hadn't known such a huge part of her gran cleaving her heart in two. “She wouldn’t have lied to me.”

“She never lied to you, Lira.” Iris’s voice held an edge. “You were too young to keep such a secret. It would have been an unfair burden to tell you.”

As sensible as this was, Lira didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear anything that would ruin the memories of her gran she’d held so tightly.

Her gran had been her gran, a warm old woman who tended chickens and baked amazing cakes. She’d been Lira’s constant after her mother died, the one person she’d always been able to rely on, the only person she’d trusted with every fiber of her being. And Lira hadn’t known her at all.

All the grief she’d been holding at bay for so many years came rushing to the surface. Lira pressed a hand to her mouth as a sob threatened to burst from her lips, pushing past Iris and rushing up the stairs to the small, cold room she shared with Sass. Only when she was lying face down on the bed so the pillow could muffle her cries, did she let the tears flow.