Page 34 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

“Here’s the spot,” Rychell says as we walk up to a dark wood establishment with a sign showing a teapot and a swirling bit of steam in the shape of a dragon.

I open the door to The Steaming Kettle for her. “I hope it goes well.”

She bats at a moth flying beside her ear. “No, you don’t.”

I smile, but I’m sure it’s more of a grimace. “I’m being polite.”

Rychell gives me a genuine smile. “I appreciate that. And about last night, um…”

Heat flies up my chest and into my face like I’m a lad first in love, even though I’ve been around longer than twenty and three years. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Magnus comes up behind us and slaps my back. “Talk about what? Morning, you two. What did I miss?”

Hewouldbe early and arrive at just the wrong moment. Of course.

“Morning, Magnus.” Rychell’s cheeks are pink as spring roses, and she doesn’t meet my eyes even as I stare at her. She’s absolutely stunning.

I wish I were anywhere but here with Magnus, making everything even more uncomfortable.

“You missed nothing, cousin,” I say. “Let’s find a seat and leave the lovely merchant to her business.” Please don’t mention the door, Magnus.

I nod at Rychell and drag Magnus toward the back of the tea house. We sit at a small pink-painted table whose wicker chairs complain about our size in multiple creaks and snaps.

A female shifter arrives to take our order, and Osric enters the establishment. Rychell’s smile is way too wide for such a dull person.

“Halvard, the nice female is trying to take your order. Stop glowering and get some tea, cousin.”

I clear my throat and focus on the painted menu of items above the counter along the wall.

“Black tea with orange, please,” I say.

“I’ll take the spiced cinnamon white tea, thanks,” Magnus says.

My chair pops, and the server’s thick eyebrows lift. “Will this be take-away?” the server asks.

Magnus chuckles and leans toward me, his arm taking up most of the wee pink table. “I think our server is a touch worried about her employer’s chairs.”

“Takeaway will be fine. Thank you,” I say.

Osric and Rychell settle at a table near the front windows. The thick glass turns the light into watery ripples that highlight Rychell’s blue-black hair and the tip of her perky nose.

Magnus laughs suddenly and startles me. He’s looking up at a slip of white smoke flying through the air.

“It’s a steam dragon, right?” I ask. We don’t have them in Leafshire Cove, but I’ve heard of the creatures.

“Aye. They’re rare, even here. I’ve only seen one before this,” Magnus says.

The steam dragon alights on a teacup at a table where two goblins and a pixie are enjoying some scones. The small, semi-transparent dragon breathes on the tea, and steam rises from the cup. The dragon rises into the air on invisible wings and then disappears. The pixie lifts the teacup and sips the warmed tea carefully.

The server brings our tea in a portable crockery mug with hefty handles that are much better suited to our size. I pay her, then Magnus and I exit the tea house to stand in front of the far windows, far enough away from Rychell to not be intrusive, but close enough that I can see everything going on around her and the dullest male in all the realms.

Magnus and I chat about Aila and their younglings. The eldest is about to leave for a warrior training camp.

“Tora wants nothing to do with the sword, but she’s definitely keen on archery.”

“Do you think they’ll all want to join the king’s army?” I don’t hide my distaste for that choice.

“No, but I want them to know how to fight like an orc even if they end up being painters and brewers.”