Chapter 2
Argos
I pack up and return to my temporary lodgings with the town’s pub owner, Cyrus. When I swing the door open, the dragon shifter raises a hand. He has dark green wings and hair, and his skin is a fascinating shade of bronze. Gold scales shimmer on his face and arms, and he has horns, though they are small and curved backward unlike mine. The fellow always has a smile for everyone.
“Hello, Argos!” He frowns at the orc lad wiping down tables. “Trustan, help him out with that cart, will you?” Cyrus winks at me. “Have to take care of my only tenant.”
I hand over some of my goods to Trustan. “Thanks.”
We manage to get the folded-down cart into the back storage room behind the linen curtain and I climb the stairs to my room above the pub’s main gathering area. That witch… Gods, she is gorgeous. Too bad she loathes me.
Once I have my stuff stashed away, I join Cyrus at the bar.
“What are you serving tonight? I’m starved. And I have the coin to spend finally.”
Cyrus laughs, a trail of black smoke coming from his mouth. He scoots a pint my way. “Mincemeat pie and a local cheddar. Sound good?”
“Perfect.”
Cyrus greets four pixies, kissing one of them soundly while throwing her back into a dramatic dip. She laughs, then sits with the others at a table in the center of the pub. A fairy joins them and soon they’re drinking and trading loud stories.
A human male takes up a lute at the back of the room and begins plucking a jaunty tune.
The food is delicious. When I first lost everything and headed into the world to figure things out, I expected most lower-class food to be tasteless. But I’ve found it’s like the food I was served at my parents’ table growing up—sometimes good, sometimes awful. I prefer eating with the common folk. No fancy forks or spoons to juggle. You don’t have to sit a certain way or follow any set rules of conversation over a meal. It’s so relaxed. But I must stay focused on my goal even as I enjoy my time here in Leafshire Cove.
I must earn enough to buy back our family’s estate from the debt collectors.
Cyrus leans on the bar in front of me. “Don’t look so down. I’ll have to fire my cook and when I say fire, folks tend to get nervous.”
I chuckle and wave him off. Cyrus is a perfect pub owner—jovial and good with people. “The food is great, really, Cyrus. Thanks again for letting me stay here on credit.”
He nods, and the scales that frame his face catch the sconces’ light. “How was day one selling your wares? Did our town treat you well?”
“I sold nearly half of my stores.”
“Impressive. But you appear troubled.”
I don’t want to get into talking about my father’s death and all of that, so I focus on my other issue. “There is this witch…”
A laugh bursts from Cyrus and he slaps the bar top. “You met Tully! I’m sure she has a lot to say about your unique brand of magic.”
“She certainly does.”
I can’t help but smile though because damn if that witch isn’t the most intriguing female I’ve met in my entire life. That scowl, those fierce green eyes, that temper… I can’t wait to give her more trouble tomorrow. I take out my notebook where all my experiments are recorded.
Cyrus gestures to my scribblings. “With the way you like to research magic, you might very well be the one to finally solve the puzzle of our saucy witch.”
“I heard she was with the tavern owner.”
“Grumlin? No, they’re casual. There’s nothing to bar from trying to court Tully if you’re so inclined.”
“I might die trying.”
“That’s a bet I would take, I hate to tell you.”
We’re both laughing now and he hands me a second pint. “This one is on the house.”
Cyrus gets out some dice and we do a little low-level gambling. He isn’t a fool; he sees I don’t have money to waste, so we keep it to single coppers and just play for fun.
“Do you think Tully will hinder your ability to succeed here?” he asks, rolling the red glass dice again.
Two fives and a three. All odds, so it’s a win for me. I gather his coppers, then put one out to start a new pot.
“I don’t see how she could.”
The red of the dice brings Tully’s bright hair to mind. I imagine fisting my hand in those curls and forcing her head back so I can lick my way up her pale throat. I shake my head to clear the thought away.
“I see about ten ways,” Cyrus says.
I take a cold swallow of my pint. “But there’s nothing she is allowed to do per town law.”
“She’s quite good at getting around laws and ethics.” He says it like he admires her for it and I grin.
“I’m up for the challenge.” I finish up the cheddar and wipe my hands on my napkin.
“Just watch yourself if she starts being nice.”
“Will do.” I roll the dice, and they come up as a split, so I toss them once more.
The lute player starts a song that has the other pub customers clapping.
“Get to know this tune. You’ll hear it at the Goat and Dragon when Grumlin hosts the new moon ritual. If you’re the last to start clapping and someone actually catches it, you’ll owe everyone in the tavern a round.”
“Wow. All right. Thanks for the heads up.”
He nods and hands over his coppers. “Let’s end on your win here, friend. I need to see to those orcs. They get grouchy when I don’t keep them well-fed.”
I smile a greeting at the group of green fellows gathered at the door.
“Welcome!” Cyrus bellows with arms wide and his dragon tail swishing. I wonder how large a dragon he is when he shifts.
Trustan takes my plate and cup away and I focus on my notebook. The last experiment I did with the khymeia stones went awry, and I need to see where I might have misstepped. When I added a pinch of starshine pollen and a dusting of mercurialionion, the illusion which was meant to be an interpretation of my childhood home turned into a mess of vines. The combination had burned my fingers a bit as well. Maybe the stones didn’t need the mercurialionion because they had their own regenerative power. Hmm…
I jot down a few ideas about what to cup in my hands when I bring the stones together to produce the magic. I’ve done all right with no ingredients at all, but only for some spells. Maybe I could try wishberries. I wonder how that would affect the stones tie to my memory and my ownership of the stones. I actually don’t even know if my ownership of the stones even matters.
When I first found the stones in my father’s office, I hadn’t known what they were. I still don’t know much about them. I only found the one note beside them in the vault after his funeral.
I freely give these khymeia stones to my son by blood and by soul, Argos. Son, find a darkblood to give you guidance. I never could figure them out.
“Eh, Cyrus.”
The dragon shifter looks up from a book of his own, his quill dancing with his quick writing. “Aye?”
“Do you know what a darkblood is?”
I don’t want to bring up the name of the stones in case they’re illegal. They’re the only thing that has been useful for earning money. I can’t part with them until I can buy back our land, farm implements, and seed to bring our estate back to life. My mother is too far gone in grief to help out much. I don’t want to push her. Not yet.
“Ah, that’s what northern folks used to call witches and wizards.”
Makes sense. Father was originally from the far north. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
I can feel the dragon’s focus on me, so I gather my cloak, notebook, and quill and head to my room. “Good night!” I call to him.
He nods, but he looks suspicious of me now. I shouldn’t have asked him about the darkblood term. It’s piqued his curiosity. I don’t need anyone getting into my business until I have it figured out myself.
That night, I try to dream about more spells I could cast and how to fix my illusion casting, but instead, my mind is filled with the witch’s glare and the way she came at me like a lioness.