“What’s your hurry?” Ollie replied.
“Not in a hurry as much as I’m tired of walkin’. Ye forget that it takes three of my strides to keep up with you, long legs.”
Elyria chuckled.
“Am I to be blamed for the layout of this city?” Ollie protested. “It’s not my fault this establishment and the castle are on opposite sides of Kingshelm.”
“And I know for a fact that we’ve passed by at least three perfectly fine taverns already, and I’d be happy at any one of ’em.”
“Well, you are more than welcome to retrace your steps then. But I promised our fair Lady Victor here the best cider in the city, and that’s exactly what I plan on delivering.”
“And thank the fucking stars for that,” said Elyria with a groan. “With the way you two bicker, by the way, it’s no wonder Jocelyn decided to remain at the palace.”
“I beg your pardon. We make forexcellentcompany, don’t we?” Ollie asked, shooting Thraigg a wry smile from beneath his hood.
“Aye, that we do. Leagues better than that buttoned-up attendant of Ric’s, at the very least.”
Elyria’s head snapped to the dwarf, her pace slowing. “Cedric’s attendant?”
“Addison,” Ollie said.
“Right,” Elyria said slowly. “What about Addison?”
“Oh, nothing.” He smirked. “Joss has simply been spending a good deal of time with her, that’s all.”
The dawning realization must have been visible on Elyria’s face, because the next thing she knew, Thraigg was clapping her on the lower back with a howling laugh. “Stranger things have happened, lass.”
“I suppose it’s heartening to know that at least some of these humans are more tolerant than others,” Elyria said.
“Yes, well, you would know all about that,” said Ollie, and Elyria found herself avoiding his eye. “The heart wants what it wants,” he added.
“Damn right,” Thraigg said, amusement sketched into the lines of his face. “And it’s about time someone besides me found a little joy on this side of the Chasm.” The look he gave Elyria was entirely too pointed, before the dwarf narrowed his blue eyes at Ollie. “This place better have some damn fine ale in addition to yer piddling cider, that’s all I’ll say.”
Ollie flashed a white-toothed grin. “Oh, this particular spot is going to bejustthe ticket for us all, I can feel it.”
Elyria pursed her lips but said nothing as Ollie slowed to a stop before a nondescript wooden door, laying his hand on the knob. She cast her gaze up to the warped sign swinging above their heads, the corners of her lips tipping up as she read the words engraved upon it: The Cracked Keg.
Ollie pushed the door open and stepped aside, gesturing to the doorway with a sweeping bow. “Your kingdom awaits, my lady.”
Elyria rolled her eyes at her friend, but she didn’t have time to do more than that before Thraigg was barreling into the bustling tavern, delight spearing across his face, a hearty laugh bellowing out of him.
Smiling, Elyria took in the thick oak panels dotting the walls, the happy chatter of the patrons seated in clusters along the long wooden bar, the flickering light from lamps overhead casting shadows on cozy booths tucked into each corner.
Her shoulders dropped immediately as she crossed the threshold. Despite the differing layout and furnishings and, of course, nature of the people within, the space reminded her so much of The Sweltering Pig. It might have been startling had she not felt such a visceral sense of relief sweep over her.
She looped a grateful arm through Ollie’s crooked elbow as the tavern door swung closed behind them, a warm feeling—delightful and strange—washing over her, pulling at her from behind her ribs. There was something about the scent here, the noise. Loud, chaotic, familiar.
It almost felt like coming home.
Who thinks like that?Elyria gave a small shake of her head, as if she might rid her mind of the ridiculous notion. Ollie had done a good job in sniffing this place out, but this was just some human tavern, after all.
“First round’s on ye then, Rev?” Thraigg called over his shoulder, making a line straight for the bar.
“I think every round is on me,Sir Ironfist.” A slow grin spread across her face as she looked at Ollie. “Actually, given that all the delegation’s expenses are on the king’s tab, should we offer a round to the entire bar? A small slice of recompense for the torture the”—she lowered her voice—“Victor of Nyrundellehas endured these past two weeks?”
“That’s certainly one way of fostering good will with the humans,” Ollie said with a chuckle. “Though I suspect that wouldn’t be the best way to keep your identity as”—he matched her tone with a mock whisper—“said victorsecret, now would it?”
“Always with the logic.” Elyria secured the hood of her cloak with a wistful sigh. “Doesn’t that ever get tiring?”
