Page 32 of When the Witch Met the Minotaur

Though we are both brimming with unspent tension—or at least I am—we help Cyrus load in wheels of cheese, ham hocks, baskets of greenhouse/magic-grown vegetables, and even three kegs of brew from the brewmaster one town over. I don’t mind the physical labor. It is good to work beside Tully and not have to talk. I don’t know what to say after what we did. I’m afraid to bring anything up in case my words ruin any possibility of that happening again. Because that’s all I want. Well, it’s all I can think about, anyway. And I never did get to finish, so the sweating and labor are making that more bearable.

Gods, she is gorgeous. I have to figure out what is happening between us and how I can possibly satisfy her without hurting her.

I watch her use her magic to fling a sack of beans onto the highest shelf in the store room behind the pub’s kitchen. I tuck another round of cheddar onto the cooling platform near the icebox. The gaslight flickers as Tully bespells the door open for Cyrus who is shouting and has his hands full.

The store room is full to bursting by the time we finish and snow is coming down in thick curtains of white.

“Does Romulus usually leave town during the winter? I’d have thought that would be a no-no considering his position in town.”

“No, he doesn’t leave at all normally,” Tully says.

Two more helpers—an orc and a human male—trudge down the stairs. They’re carrying an awkwardly large sack. I assume it’s laundry or covered furniture that needs repair—some such chore. The whole pub is busy with those Cyrus asked to come give him a hand. His regular deliveries were moved up a day because of the incoming storm, so everything that usually takes him a four-day period is taking place in one day. It’s managed chaos.

A female pixie, a male human, and a female fairy crowd around him, and he is flirting like it's just his way of life. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s sleeping with all three. You don’t have to be a seer to know that Cyrus gets around. He appears to have the goodwill of everyone in town though so he must be mindful about choosing and accepting partners.

Tully picks up our thread of conversation as we return to the main room of the pub. “Rom and Laini went to visit her sister, Sorina, beyond the Veil in the human world. She’s hoping to talk some sense into her.”

“They’re on the outs?” I ask.

Cyrus is pouring over a list and making one of his lovers laugh.

“Always have been. Laini is too good for that brat of a sibling. I don’t know why she bothers with her at all. If they do bring her back, that human is going to get a very big, very nasty piece of my mind.”

I grin. She is a mean thing, this witch, but she’s a loyal friend.

A crack sounds, and then there’s a bang on the roof. Cyrus swears and runs out of the front door. We follow him only to see a tree limb the size of two orcs stretched out over the thatch.

“I have to get that thing off of there,” Cyrus says. Snow is already blanketing all of our heads. “Tully, think you can help me out?”

“I can,” she says.

She looks tired though, probably from all the magic we did on the mirror and the work she’s been doing with the unloading for Cyrus.

“How about we let our resident witch have a break? I can climb up there and roll it off.”

“That’s a big ask,” Cyrus says. “You sure?”

“Oh yeah. Minotaurs are pretty strong.” I wink at Tully.

She narrows her eyes before releasing what appears to be a reluctant grin.

Cyrus chuckles and heads back inside, his dragon tail swishing through the snow. It’s already two feet deep. Everyone was saying this storm didn’t have magical elements like some do, but there is a sheen on the powdery stuff that makes me wonder if they’re mistaken.

I use a smaller tree beside the tree in question and climb up to the roof. Once there, I begin shoving the limb with a boot, rolling it toward the edge. The slight slope of the roof helps the limb along too.

“Make sure all is clear!” I call down.

Tully’s commanding voice barking at folks carries up through the flurries of white.

“Ready?” I shout over the edge.

“Yes!” Tully shouts.

I kick at the limb one last time and it pitches over the thatched roof’s uneven edge. Despite the snow, there’s a tremendous smashing sound as the limb hits the ground. The whole pub trembles and I fall on my arse.

I’m slipping down the snowy thatch.

“A little help, Tully?”