Page 77 of A Tale of Mirth & Magic

“As long as they also have black tea and those little sugary pastry balls, I’m happy to make a morning detour with you, my dear. Aha!” I cried, finding my favorite red corset hidden underneath the couch cushions.

Pulling on a simple light pink blouse and my warmest skirt—a beautiful creamy wool local style that I’d treated myself to after a huge commission last week—I sauntered back to Barra so he could do up my laces. Once that was done, and he was dressed again, we headed out into the chilly morning.

Wrapped in our thick cloaks and fur-lined gloves, we walked hand in hand along the quiet city streets. I was going to miss this place when we moved on next week, with its ice-lined buildings and kind people.

In our short time here, Barra and I had already become quite well-known. It wasn’t hard to become a minor celebrity when almost everyone else was under four feet tall. Our innkeeper, a fellow half-giant, confessed once when they were in their cups that locals had begun calling Barra the “Lavender Lover” because of how he doted on me as we cavorted around town—which had me howling in laughter and him blushing and scowling for the rest of the night.

It was a lovely city, and I found myself wishing we could stay for at least a few more weeks. Barra adored it too, silly nicknames aside. He’d even come back from the shops the other day wearing a cream wool shirt that was embroidered along the buttons in a popular floral Iwwon design. He said the shopkeeper had bullied him into buying it, that he’d asked for his standard brown.

But I knew custom work when I saw it. And I’d caught him checking himself out in our mirror later, with the small, happy smile on his face that always made my heart squeeze.

Sadly, our time here was soon coming to an end. We had to head out next week and begin traveling our way back south and then east, if we were going to make it in time for little Ariane’s first birthday.

Over the past year, we’d journeyed back to Nepu twice. Once in the early summer, to welcome Monty’s newborn, sweet Ariane, into the world. The next, to wait out the harshest weeks of winter and to meet Sassura, Barra’s sister who traveled during the warm months with her dance troupe.

The first trip, I was utterly nerve-racked, sure that his family would reject me. Despite his constant reassurances that they’d fall for me immediately, I barely slept in those days leading up to our visit. Barra kept saying we could put off the trip, go a bit later when I was maybe more ready. But I knew I was never going to truly be ready—I just had to throw myself into the fire and hope for the best.

I pushed us on. And when we arrived at Barra’s family home, a large, short gray-haired woman ran out the front door and down the path toward us. Barra got on his knees to hug her—which was as adorable to witness as it sounds—before she finally swatted him away and turned to me where I stood frozen, clutching Dewdrop’s reins like they were my anchor in a wild sea.

“So. You must be Elikki,” she said with a warm, broad smile on her lined chestnut-brown face. Brushing flour-dusted hands on her apron, she reached for my free hand and gently tugged me up the path toward her house. “I’m Ma Wren. And you look like you need a thick slice of cake and my biggest pot of tea. Come along, dear.”

Her hand was warm and strong, and I let myself be led through the front door and into the kitchen, Barra trailing behind us after he tied the horses to the front gate.

After that, it was a stream of desserts and many, many cups full of strong tea. Ma Wren chattered as she bustled around the kitchen—plying us with more treats, opening another window for a breeze, plopping a soft, snuggly kitten in my lap. Before I knew it, I’d found myself relaxing and chatting back. Relief, warmth, and safety crept bit by bit into my mind, and Barra stayed at my side, his presence steadying.

After a while, we left to rest at Barra’s house before the big family dinner in the evening. As we said our goodbyes, I gathered Ma Wren up in a hug, bending down to her. “Thank you,” I said, my voice thick.

“You’re a sweet girl,” she said, patting my cheek affectionately. “So strong and lovely—my Barra really lucked out. Finally!”

“Maaaa,” Barra groaned as she and I giggled. But he smiled too, pressing a kiss into my hair.

After that, everything felt so much less terrifying. A long nap and a bath helped too, and when we returned to meet the rest of the family later, I was… if not ready exactly, at least not scared stiff. Everyone was, as Barra had promised, thrilled to meet me. The evening was nothing but fun, and full of laughs.

In fact, the whole trip went smoothly. Once I started to believe that, yes—these people actually seemed to want me here in their homes, their family, Barra’s life—everything came together. I talked metalsmithing with Ma Reese and Telen, helped Ma Wren in the kitchen, and held Monty’s baby. Barra and I recounted the last few months of our travel.

And then, to a rapt audience, we retold the now-famous tale of how we got together: road trip, bounty hunters, magic, kidnapping, and all. Some facts of the story had to be reestablished, as it seemed that Telen’s version had her heroically rescuing me from an evil wizard while Barra was off looking for a sword he’d dropped somewhere in the forest. Much good-natured arguing ensued, and the night ended with all of us laughing and the baby spitting up on Telen’s shirt.

The rest of our week was wonderful, and the second trip was even better. Now, as I walked the streets of Iwwo recalling it all, that new, glowing feeling suffused my chest. The feeling, I was starting to recognize, was the warmth of family, of belonging. I couldn’t wait to go back.

Barra and I talked often about the future. What we wanted for our lives. Our dreams and goals. For now we both wanted to keep traveling and having adventures. He had taken surprisingly well to life on the road and had a long list of places he wanted us to visit together. Someday, we thought, we may decide to put down roots in Nepu again, or perhaps a town nearby. Or spend half of the year there and the other half traveling. But for now, it was a time of adventure.

Ducking into the little café, I bought a large black tea, Barra’s deliciously scented ice tea, and a bag of my favorite local treat, these small round balls that tasted like almond and burnt sugar. We found a bench near one of the blue magefire heaters scattered around the city’s public gardens and sat pressed together, looking out over a quiet pond. The strong tea warmed me from the inside, and I chased it with a sweet almond ball to balance out the bitterness. Barra opened his mouth. I popped one in, laughing as he almost immediately opened up for another.

His arm snug around me, we sat in peaceful happiness, drinking our tea and watching snow rabbits scamper in the frosted earth. I felt a bone-deep contentment. Sugar on my tongue and magic thrumming in my core. We would have a thousand days that felt like this, and we would have joy I’d never imagined.