Page 131 of Wanted: Rogues and Bards

Which, shit, meant they were short on time. They’d be able to plant only things with a short growing season. Why, why, why was Fenric already feeling guilty about walking away? This was Maxie’s fault, dammit; his empathy was contagious.

Rain cleared his throat and gestured toward the table. “Let’s sit and eat. We can work out the battle plan.”

So, they were doing this? Really? Granted, they needed the money they could get from all they’d looted, and it was no good to them if they couldn’t get it all past the finfolk. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to go shark.

His luck ran out twenty minutes later.

“Why the hell do I have to go shark?” Fenric complained.

Rain paused in tugging off his boots to laugh. “Because you’re one of the few who can fight in water!”

“Do you know how awkward it is to bite other living creatures? With their blood in your mouth? And I hate underwater fighting, you know this.”

Unfortunately, over the course of breakfast, they’d realized they had to split duties here. It was a two-pronged attack, as there were two problems.

First, the dam. Jessamine had been quick to point out the reason the area was flooded was due to a dam the finfolk had built on the nearby Colfass River to flood the entire region. Someone had to go over there and bust it up.

Belstrom had volunteered. Rather, he had insisted, with a berserker light in his eyes at the idea of breaking something. Ridiculous, that one. But because he had to go—and was the most suited for the job—he’d need backup in case the finfolk attacked. Which they most certainly would. They’d lose all traction on this land once it was dry again, so they would protect the dam at all costs.

Second, the group also didn’t want hostages taken, so some of them had to stay at the village and fight off any finfolk who tried to attack. Lirion would cast support-type cantrips—a minor version of Hymn of the Soldier—while Maxie threw poison bombs, depending on the situation. Better to have them as support than on the front lines, as neither was a melee fighter.

Which left Fenric out here, staring at the edge of the water, resigning himself to biting those weird fish people things with the smooth blubbery skin and dead black eyes.

Again.

Ugh, and he’d sworn he’d never bite strange creatures again after the last time.

Rain nudged him with his elbow. “Would you rather swap with Lirion?”

“That was a low blow and hurtful.”

“But was it effective?”

Grumbling, Fenric started stripping off his shoes as well.

“I see it was.”

He flipped Rain the bird, making him laugh.

If there was no getting out of the situation, might as well get it over with. Plus, they’d been so tired from the fighting and trying not to die yesterday that it made today a Lirion-needs-sex day, so if he could just get this over soon, they could reach an inn by tonight and he could have both loot and hot sex. Focus on that. Loot and sex, loot and sex, loot and sex. Oh, there was his motivation.

With a deep breath, he triggered the magic and dove into the water. By the time cool water covered his head, he was in shark form. Then he noticed the deep, murky water around him. What the hell? This had to be yet another finfolk spell. The water around the manor and across the farms looked to only be five or six feet deep in the highest spots, but where they were, he couldn’t even see the bottom. The spell was warping and distorting reality so that five feet of water was now more like fifty.

Shaking off the odd distortion, he turned slightly, offering his dorsal fin to Belstrom. He gave a little wiggle, a silent way of asking, Wanna ride?

Belstrom strung his war hammer onto his back and grabbed hold. “Thank you; I do not mind if I do. According to the villagers, the dam is straight ahead and out a ways. So just swim until you see it.”

Easy enough. Belstrom hung on tight as Fenric started swimming. Rain was in merman form and kept up easily. He was even grinning like he was anticipating a fun fight, the bastard. Of course, he enjoyed fighting in the water. He also had opposable thumbs and a spear he’d stolen from Lord Mire’s armory, so he was happy.

Fenric kept up his mantra. Loot and sex, loot and sex.

Actually, now that Lirion was a permanent addition to their group, was it too much to hope that he could just keep the man as a lover? When Lirion had announced his intentions to stay, their eyes had met. That moment had crystallized in Fenric’s heart and given him all sorts of hope.

Lirion had seemed entirely open for once, and he felt like he’d glimpsed the man’s heart. Lirion wanted to stay, to belong with them, but perhaps he also wanted to stay with Fenric?

Gods above and below, please let that be the case. Fenric had grown very attached to him. His heart kept insisting Lirion was his. There was no reason for Lirion to ever go to anyone else when Fenric was right there, more than happy to continue as they had been. As insane as it sounded, Fenric had no desire to share the incubus with anyone else—stranger or another member of E.V.I.L. Lirion made him happier than anyone he’d ever been with and he didn’t want to let him go.

But did Lirion feel the same way? Fenric was growing surer of his own feelings, even if he wasn’t too keen on trying to assign them labels, but he had no idea whether Lirion felt anything beyond friendship and camaraderie.