Page 29 of A Tale of Mirth & Magic

“Oh, thank you. Um… what are your rates?” I said, taking out my coin purse.

“For friends, one silver each,” he said.

“Are you sure? That hardly seems like enough,” I said, skeptical.

“I am sure,” Legus said without budging.

I laid down the paltry amount and added one more silver. “For the outstanding food and drink,” I explained, firmly ignoring his protests. Barra also laid down two silvers.

The dragonborn inclined his head again. “I will have Saho bring out dessert as well. Will you both be wanting baths upstairs?”

With our enthusiastic yesses, he swept the coins into a large pocket and left to prepare our rooms, lifting our heavy packs with ease. Saho trotted out from the kitchen soon after with our steaming pot pies, the barmaid following with drink refills. I persuaded Saho to join us for a while since it was a slow night. They grabbed a pint of cider and sat down with a dramatic groan.

“Agghhh, my achy bones. I’m getting old,” they said, clutching their back.

Barra chuckled. “Saho, you’re still in your thirties, same as me. And you’re a half-elf. You’re not allowed to complain like that until you’re at least eighty.”

“Tell that to my bad back, know-it-all,” they said. “All that hunching over the stove, chopping vegetables—I’m aging prematurely!” They twisted their torso, face a mask of pain. “Don’t you hear my creaky bones crying out? Ahhh, this arduous life!”

The barmaid, who was dropping off a bowl of nibbles for Saho, rolled her eyes and raced to clean up a spill a few tables over while she balanced a leaning tower of dirty pint glasses with the other hand.

“Well, I’m sure everyone deeply appreciates your efforts. This is certainly some of the best food I’ve eaten.” I was already halfway through my chicken pot pie. I almost didn’t want to finish because I knew I’d be sad when it was gone.

“Just some of the best? Not the best?” Saho cried. They stared at me, wringing their apron in their hands.

Barra nudged my leg with his knee under the table. His eyes widened in warning, and he shook his head slightly. I felt a sharp frisson of desire at the contact of his leg on mine but tried to focus on the conversation.

“Oh no—the best, hands down,” I said, grabbing Saho’s hand and giving them my most earnest face. “What is the seasoning in here? Thyme?” I poked my fork into my pot pie again.

Barra also made a show of taking another big bite. “Rosemary maybe?”

“Sage,” Saho said smugly. “A variety I cultivated myself. It’s probably a bit zestier and more peppery than you’re used to.”

“Delicious,” Barra said as he chewed.

I nodded in agreement and took another bite. “It’s like my taste buds are dancing a jig in my mouth!”

Placated, Saho trilled with laughter. “Your taste buds are dancing a jig! I love that. You are delightful, aren’t you?” We clinked our glasses together. They said, “I’m so glad you two stopped in tonight. Livened up a dull evening for me.”

“Me too! You have a wonderful inn.” I downed the rest of my wine. Barra sipped at his peppermint tea and smiled at me. I could still feel the heat of his knee against my leg. He hadn’t quite pulled it away.

Saho looked back and forth between us. They stood, saying, “Well, your baths should be ready by now. Better get up there while the water’s hot. I’ll bring dessert up to your room in a bit.”

“Rooms, Saho. Our rooms, plural,” Barra said.

“Oh, right. Silly me. Two separate desserts for your two separate rooms.” With a sly look, they bounced back to the kitchen.

Barra and I finished up our pot pies, eating every last crumb of that perfect flaky, buttery crust. He led the way upstairs, slowly weaving around tables and chairs toward the far corner of the main room. We climbed a stairwell lit with only a few candles. It opened into a hallway with six doors.

“That’s the bathroom,” he said, pointing at the first door on the left. We walked down the hallway together. The next one had THE BLUE ROOM painted on it in flowy letters. The last door on the left read THE YELLOW ROOM.

“This is me,” I said.

“And I’m just across the hall here,” Barra said, pointing over his shoulder at the door that read THE GREEN ROOM.

“Hmm not ‘the Brown Room’? I’m shocked,” I teased.

“If only that was an option. What a dream,” Barra said.