Page 5 of A Tale of Mirth & Magic

Politely declined an invitation into her bed—wait.

No. No no no noooo.

Had I said anything back? My mind froze over when she’d leaned toward me, smelling of sugar and cinnamon.

She’d been hard to look away from even in the market, as I watched her chat so merrily with everyone who browsed the booth’s wares, smile bright as the jewelry spread out in front of her. Even when she’d turned to me, cross and still fuming after her fight with that sleazy customer, I was only drawn in more. She was so alive—fierce and vivaciously herself. I’d just barely managed to turn and walk away then.

Finding her here, in the same tavern I frequented whenever visiting Povon on business, was a bit of a shock. I knew myself well enough to realize I should keep my distance from anyone that captivating. But then she invited me to her room…

There had been a moment, a split second, when I wanted to say yes. To hold her small hand and let her lead me upstairs. Follow her mischievous smile wherever it might take me.

But what then? Everyone in the tavern would watch us, knowing what we were doing. They’d whisper. Judging, maybe snickering. I began to sweat just picturing it. And what about when we got to the room? Standard tavern beds couldn’t hold my large frame anyway. Would I even be able to please her? It had been so long…

It was better like this. She must have read something in my face—or my stupid awkward silence while my mind was racing through how things would play out—because she left quickly. She probably instantly regretted the offer anyway.

Or, oh goddess… what if it had just been one of her jokey flirtations? I’d watched her at the market for a long time this morning. Probably too long. The way she put everyone at ease with her smiles, her big kind laugh drawing people in, flattering and being flattered in return—it was like watching flowers perk up at the sun. She probably meant the invitation in jest, and I took her seriously like an idiot. I must be one of the most oblivious men in the entire realm of Kurriel.

But—there had been a moment when she was looking at me. Her gray eyes gazed into mine, and she seemed so sincere. Her focus entirely on me in a way I hadn’t felt from another person in months. Years.

Enough. I mentally shook myself and took a long draught of water from my tankard. A small smile came to my lips at the memory of her trying to lift it. The drop of liquid left on her upper lip and the way she licked it away.

The tavern door slammed open, and two cross-looking fellows entered in a bluster. First, a town constable, wooden club hanging at his waist and a shiny badge with the queendom’s insignia proudly pinned to his chest. Just behind him, I spotted that pig human from the marketplace. He wore an ugly glare, and his wrist was wrapped up with a makeshift sling.

They made their way to the bar. The tavern was starting to fill with folks dropping in for a pint or a meal after the day’s work, and the constable banged his fist to get the barkeep’s attention.

“We’re looking for a woman,” he blared. “An elf woman. Tall, reddish-brown hair, white, and… plump,” he ended lamely.

“Aren’t we all, mate,” the half-orc barkeep replied with a chuckle. The customers around them guffawed, clinking their glasses.

“Very plump,” the injured man sneered. “She’s a dangerous criminal. Attacked me right in the square, she did. Almost swindled gold out of me and then broke my wrist with her evil magic when I tried to get away.”

The constable put a calming hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find the elf, Felsith. Let me handle this.” Turning back to the barkeep, he said, “Now, then. Have you seen this woman who accosted my cousin? She’s a metal mage jeweler called Elikki. We were told she’s a drifter who’s been staying here recently. She’s required to come in for questioning and subsequent sentencing immediately.”

I tensed. The barkeep, who had been following this exchange as they wiped the damp counter, filled glasses, and collected coins, replied, “Haven’t seen a lady like that, I’m afraid. We’ve only got two guests staying right now—an old gent and a pleasant little gnome. You’ve been misinformed.”

They turned away, pouring a mug of mulled wine for a customer down the bar. The constable looked miffed. Felsith, who had entered with an irritated pink flush on his face, was now turning an alarming shade of red. “I know she is here!”

Suddenly spotting me down at the other end of the bar, he pointed wildly. “You! You were there today! Do you know the elf? Where is she?!”

Too many eyes were on me. They waited. Felsith tapped his fingers, staring me down. I swallowed.

“Don’t know her. I was just passing by.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well”—I took a slow drink—“that’s how it is.” I returned his stare. In my deepest, mildest voice, I said, “Think I saw her still near the square, though, at a pub a few blocks back.”

“Probably at the Eagle,” the barkeep added, shrugging.

I nodded. “The Eagle, that’s the one.”

Felsith looked back and forth between us skeptically. He opened his mouth to yell again, but the constable tugged his arm and began to maneuver him toward the door. He muttered, “Come on now, let’s at least check it out. Don’t want to start something around these types of people.”

The atmosphere in the area tensed further. Folks’ attention in the room sharpened, staring daggers at the pair of them. Some hands strayed to their real daggers. The constable continued to nudge his cousin toward the exit as Felsith hurled insults over his shoulder.

Just then, I caught a flash of a familiar red corset coming down the stairs and into the fray of the main tavern room, also angling toward the exit. Elikki. Carrying a large pack on her back, she wore a long hooded cloak and a determined expression.

I saw the moment she noticed Felsith and the constable—her body halting, eyes searching for another exit.