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Thirty-Two

Lira’s feet ached as she trudged up the last few steps to the room she shared with Sass. The scones and chai had gained them several new customers, and half of those had returned for dinner. At the request of Val, Lira had made more hand pies.

“Easier to eat them,” the guard had said, as she’d taken her usual spot by the fire and continued knitting her particularly long orange scarf.

Lira assumed it had to be for Korl or his dads. Anyone else would drown in wool by the time they wrapped it around themselves enough to keep it from dragging on the floor.

But it was Iris who occupied her mind now that she could stop working long enough to think. If Iris could help her loosen the stone and retrieve her gran’s recipe book…

What? Her goal since she’d arrived had been to get the book she’d hidden, the thing she associated most with her gran. Not to mention the gold she’d tucked away so she could start fresh somewhere. But her appetite for adventuring had gone over that cliff with Malek, and she wasn’t sure it ever brought her as much joy as she felt biting into Pip’s lemon sweet rolls, taking her first sip of chai in the morning, laughing with Sass about her cooking misadventures, or chatting with Crumpet while she baked.

She shuffled her feet the last few steps and pushed open the door, stopping for a beat and glancing around to ensure she’d opened the right one.

“Come on in,” Sass called. “You aren’t seeing things.”

Lira gaped at the compact room that was usually cold and dark when she entered. Tonight, a fire burned in the hearth, sending gold light dancing across the ceiling and floor.

Where the floorboards had once been bare now lay a rag rug. It was worn but it also looked familiar. Now her bare feet wouldn’t freeze when they touched the floor in the mornings.

Then her gaze shifted to the beds. Sass was already in hers, tucked under a fluffy, floral coverlet that matched the one on her bed, neither of which had been there before. The fabric was a riot of enormous open blooms and vibrant colors so garish she almost laughed.

“Where did you get—?” Lira started to say before Sass held up a hand.

“Before you ask if I spent coin we don’t have, Tin gave me the fabric for the coverlets at no charge. Can you believe no one in the village wanted this pattern?”

Lira could, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like it. The blown-open coral roses and bright yellow tulips that were splashed across her bed gave life to a room that had been utilitarian and sad.

“The rug is from Iris,” Sass continued. “She said it came from your gran’s old cottage. ”

Lira stepped forward and onto the rug. Of course. It had sat under their table in the breakfast nook, which explained why the middle was less faded than the edges.

“What do you think?” Sass’s expression was hopeful as she wiggled herself upright in bed and propped her pillow behind her back.

“Honestly?” Lira cocked her head before smiling at Sass. “I think it’s wonderful. Much better than sleeping in a cold room under scratchy blankets.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sass patted the braid coiled atop her head. “I figured if we were making the rest of the place look so welcoming, we should get some of the love.”

Lira liked the sound of that. It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself some love or even a small measure of comfort. Kicking off her shoes, she scrunched her toes on the rag rug as she made her way to her bed, sloughing off the rest of her clothes until she was in her shift. She slipped under her floral coverlet, sinking into the mattress that was still an impossible combination of saggy and hard.

“The beds are still uncomfortable and the blankets inside the new fabric are still the grays ones but—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lira said before Sass could give any further explanation that might spoil the magic she’d created in their room. “It’s better because you cared.”

Sass scooted herself lower in the bed, not looking over. “The fire doesn’t hurt either.”

The warmth pulsed off the burning wood and gave the room a slightly sweet aroma. “No peat?”

Sass wrinkled her nose. “Can’t stand the smell of it. The stuff is fine in the great room because there’s enough space and the scent can be overpowered by other odors, your spicy tea and meat pies for instance.”

“That and Durn won’t pay for wood to burn in a hearth that big,” Lira said.

Sass grunted. “No, he won’t.”

“So how did you get—?”

“Cut it myself.” Sass winked at her. “I told you I was good with an axe, and that last storm took down some small trees by the stream.”

“Speaking of Durn, how did it go with the chandler set-up?”

Sass released a tortured sigh. “Penny is a catch, but I’m not sure if Durn is smart enough to catch her.”

That sounded about right.

“I’m not giving up, though. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

Lira wouldn’t mind if Durn had something to distract him from his malaise and draw him away from the tavern—and its cellar. Not that she could admit that to Sass.

She wiggled her toes under the coverlet. “When did you have time to do this between drumming up scone business and matchmaking for Durn?”

“I talked to Tin yesterday about the fabric, but I came up here when you and Iris were down in the cellar.”

With that, Sass punched her pillow a few times and rolled over to go to sleep.

Lira stopped herself from groaning out loud. Sass knew she’d been in the cellar—again. If the dwarf was clever and curious—and Lira knew she was both—she’d start wondering why Lira kept sneaking into the cellar.

She lay back in bed, staring at the firelight shadows dancing across the ceiling with a sick feeling twisting her stomach.