Erindil lifted the half-eaten confection, his cheeks flushing. “Like I said, I’m quite fond of Pip’s pastries.”
Cali had the strangest sensation that the elf wasn’t telling her the whole truth. “Don’t you miss Lananore? It must be more luxurious than living in a tent, even if these aren’t your average tents.”
Erindil’s expression took on a dreamy quality. “Lananore is quite spectacular, and truth be told, I miss waking up underneath a waterfall.”
Cali wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she nodded. “There must be an important reason to stay here then.”
He bristled. “There’s nothing more important than protecting Lira, especially now that…” He seemed to remember where he was and who he was talking to, and he shoved the rest of the sea lime pie bar into his mouth.
Well, that was odd. As far as Cali knew, Lira wasn’t in any kind of danger. If she were, Vaskel or Korl would have told her. Then again, Cali reminded herself, the elf could be overprotective.
Once he swallowed, he stood, and the pantheri followed suit, even though she was clearly being rushed off.
“Thank you again for the sea lime treat,” Erindil said as he walked her to the edge of the camp. “And I am glad you returned safely. Wayside needs you.”
Cali stopped and dropped her voice. “Is something going on no one’s told me about? Is Lira in danger?”
The elf stared at her for a beat before shaking his head and laughing. “Goodness me, no. Where did you get such an idea?”
Cali eyed him, but he didn’t seem insincere. Maybe this was some kind of elf memory loss. He was incredibly old, after all.
“As long as you’re sure,” she said.
He smiled at her. “Completely sure, my dear.”
She turned to head toward the tavern’s back door, but Erindil caught her by the sleeve.
“I forgot to ask you if you were tempted to stay aboard. Did you ever consider joining her crew?”
Cali thought about Tris and Jolli, about Pinkie scaling the mast to the crow’s nest, and Bonnie smiling at her over the light of the candelabra. She thought about the comforting creak of the hull and the lapping of water that lulled her to sleep.
Then she popped her last bite of the sea lime pie bar into her mouth and let the tartness snap her back to reality. She shook her head. “It would be hard to tempt a pantheri with the prospect of living at sea.”
Even if it was on a sentient ship with a female crew she now called friends and a captain she couldn’t stop thinking about.
The elf only nodded, slow and wry, the corner of his mouth curving in a way that made it perfectly clear that he didn’t believe a word of it.
Forty-Four
Days passedsince they’d returned to Wayside, and life resettled into its usual rhythm, although normal now included Thrain loitering in Lira’s kitchen and offering unsolicited advice on baking. Crumpet had taken to chasing him out with a wooden spoon on no fewer than three occasions, and the dwarf had finally accepted his place in the great room with a tankard of ale and a tale to tell.
Cali did her best not to think too much about The Cruel Mistress, and it helped that she had a project to throw herself into. After she’d mentioned her fondness for the hammocks on the pirate ship, Korl had strung up one for her beneath one of the towering oaks near the stream. She’d taken to spending her afternoons there now, swaying gently while the stream gurgled over its smooth stones below and birds traded melodies in the branches overhead.
The blank book Iris had given her now sat open on her knees, its pages already half-filled with her cramped, slanting hand.Her first official author gift, the apothecary had called it.
Cali had found, somewhat to her surprise, that she wrote better outside than she ever had cooped up in her room at the inn. The spring air helped, warm enough now to coax the last of winter’s chill from her fur. She even found that the ambient sound of the village—the strike of hammer against iron, the rattle of wagon wheels, and the distant chatter of conversation—was more conducive to storytelling than silence.
She let her quill rest against her bottom lip as she considered the next line, working through the chapter about the troll king fiasco. The memory provoked a smile despite the cold, miserable nights on the run that had resulted from it.
Writing it all down had done something she hadn’t expected. She’d thought that putting Pirrin and Malek onto the page as they’d once been might reopen wounds and sharpen her sadness. Instead, the opposite had happened. Every memory she released from the white-knuckled grip inside her, and every line of dialogue they spoke, had lessened her sadness. The grief hadn’t vanished entirely, but it had found somewhere to go in the narrative of her novel.
She might not have found the settled, easy love that had taken root between Vaskel and Iris, or the sweet adoration Lira shared with Korl, but she had found something that gave her purpose. Even if she still couldn’t stop her mind from drifting to the dark-haired pirate helming the brilliantly colored ship, she knew those were stories for another day and another book.
“There you are.”
Lira’s voice broke through her thoughts, and Cali looked up to find her friend crossing the grass with a steaming mug wrapped in both hands, her apron smeared with evidence of the morning’s baking.
“I come bearing chai,” Lira announced, holding up the mug.
