Page 57 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

Halvard nods. “Your latest thriller?”

The vampire runs a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. “Aye, that’s the one.”

“I haven’t read it yet.”

Archer’s red-black eyes shine. “Well, you’ve been busy, or so I hear.”

Halvard and I grin at one another. “Yes,” I say, “we married and have been settling into our new rhythm.”

“I’ve mostly been enamored with her magical library,” Halvard says. “I need to finish unpacking.”

“I understand being obsessed with books,” Archer says approvingly.

I look down at the ring Halvard gave me. The gold band is flecked with orcstone, a green granite, and I love it so much. Hisring is made of blue stone, a color he chose because he said it matches my eyes.

Archer surveys the room and orders a dark ale. “Are there any other vampires in town?”

“I don’t think so,” I say.

Cyrus serves Archer, then he returns to a card game he’s playing with Betilda at the end of the bar. The older, female orc grins and plays a card. She’s definitely winning.

Halvard is looking at Archer’s mug. “I didn’t know vampires drank ale.”

“We do.”

“And apparently write books.”

Archer’s mouth lifts at one side, showing a fang. “Only ones that no one wishes to read,” he says with a comical, self-deprecating tone.

The pub door swings open again, but no one enters. I look around, but there’s nothing.

“Was that a ghost?” I ask Halvard, wondering if there could be more ghosts than the one haunting the ruins outside of town.

Halvard squints at the rough-hewn ceiling beams. “It’s her.”

“Who?” Archer leans against the bar top and looks in the same direction as Halvard.

“The cherub fairy that drove me nuts during our trip,” Halvard says.

My mouth pops open. “I didn’t know you saw her too!”

Archer gives us a sly smile. “You two must be lucky to earn the attention of a cherub fairy. Her attention is a blessing, I hear.”

“She’s a pervert,” I say, laughing.

Halvard is shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his face. “So annoying.”

We laugh and raise our cups to the cherub fairy hiding somewhere among the Snowlight swags and greenery.

“To lust and love!” Halvard says.

I down the rest of my mead and thank the Blessed Stones that I listened to my son. Love is messy, and I adore every wild angle of the joy and pain it brings. This is life, and I’m truly living it for the first time.