Sam set the cup on the counter. “One maple latte. I added cinnamon because it brings out the…”
“It’s a bit basic though, isn’t it?”
The words came out before Mabon could stop them.
Sam’s pleased expression crumbled into something hurt, and his eyes - those warm brown eyes that crinkled when he smiled - went flat.
“Oh,” Sam said quietly. “I suppose it is.”
Panic shot through Mabon’s chest like ice water.
“No, I didn’t mean…” He reached across the counter. “That came out wrong. I meant the concept of seasonal flavors in general is ubiquitous, not that your choice was…”
“It’s fine.” Sam’s voice had gone decidedly professional. “That’ll be three seventy-five, unless you’d prefer I make you something else.”
“Sam, please, I was trying to…” Mabon fumbled for his wallet. His dragon roared its fury at the thought of causing their Treasure pain. “I’m terrible at small talk. What I meant was that traditional autumn flavors are popular because they’re comforting, and comfort is valuable, and…”
“Really, it’s fine.” Sam held out his hand for payment, not meeting Mabon’s eyes.
Mabon’s hands shook as he pulled out his wallet. Bills scattered across the counter. He grabbed one without looking and shoved it toward Sam.
“Keep the change. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
He fled.
Behind him, he heard Sam’s confused voice: “Mabon, this is a hundred dollars. Mabon?”
Mabon made it to the Range Rover before his hands started shaking.
“That went well,” Rux said from the driver’s seat, his voice carefully neutral.
Mabon pressed both palms against his knees, willing them steady. “I called his coffee basic.”
“We know.”
“He lookedhurt.” The word came out strangled. “I watched our Treasure’s face fall, watched him pull away, and I kepttalking…”
His voice cracked.
A full life of carefully cultivated control, of managing investments worth millions, of negotiating with paranormal councils and human corporations alike - and he’d reduced himself to babbling corporatenonsense at the one person who actually mattered.
“The website said it would create intrigue,” Mabon said quietly. “Playful teasing to keep him from becoming complacent.”
“The website was written by idiots,” Urien said from the back seat.
“I know that now.”
Silence settled in the vehicle. Outside, the Daily Bean’s cheerful lights mocked him. For all he’d done in his life, and Mabon had done plenty, he couldn’t figure out how to apologize to a barista without sounding like he was proposing a merger.
“I need to fix this,” Mabon said.
“How?” Rux asked.
“I don’t know.” Mabon’s chest ached where his heart stone blazed, insistent. “But I will. I have to.”
Because the alternative - living with the memory of Sam’s hurt expression, knowing he’d caused it - was unthinkable.
/~/~/~/~/
