“Bah!” Neil, the barkeep, swatted at the redhead and came around to our table. “Now you two listen here,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest. “My tavern has the best mead in the city! You could try a brew at every damn tavern in Kirkwall and you’d wind up spitting it out in favor of coming back here.”
Jensen came by the table and set our drinks down. Before he could leave, Dante asked for an order of roasted meat and bread. I shook my head to show I needed no food, and he nodded and left.
“Go on, take a sip,” Neil ordered.
Dante took a tentative sip. “Damn, that is good.”
Neil preened under the praise and smiled wide. “Damn right it is! That recipe has been handed down for generations. Which means nothing to that gluttonous demon down at the other Golden Vine.”
The door behind the bar burst open and a woman came in carrying a jug of mead. “Dad, stop pestering the customers!” she bellowed. Her hair was cut short in a boyish fashion, yet it was the same deep black as her father’s mustache. If you squinted hard enough, you could see the resemblance. Thankfully for her, she hadn’t inherited her father’s strong chin.
Neil’s tongue caught in the middle of his tirade and he flinched as he looked at the young woman. “Viti, it’s fine, they asked me.”
“No they didn’t,” the redhead cut in.
“Shut up, Rufus!”
Viti groaned and set the jug down on the counter. As if sensing his time was at an end, Neil slammed his hands down on our table and babbled. “That other Golden Vine is a lie. I’ve been running this tavern for twenty years since I inherited it from my father, then suddenly this damn spitaur shows up and opens a new tavern down the road usingmy recipeandmy Golden Vine nameclaiming it’s been in his family for generations.”
He yelped when Viti grabbed his ear and began dragging him away. “Alright dad, that’s enough out of you.”
“Ow, ow, ow, release me you freakishly strong wench. I’m tired of my tavern name being tarnished by that eight-legged bastard!”
Her response was to slap him on the shoulder before shoving him into the back room with her.
“Well,” I said. “That was a lot.”
Dante took another long swig of his drink and eyed the glass. “This is the spitaur’s recipe.”
“How do you know?”
He swirled the mug around then leaned in closer and spoke low. “There was a tavern in the south end of the Mirrored Summit. It was run by a family of spitaurs and their specialty mead tastes exactly like this. I’m guessing they had a similar business here before Myva banished us, and came to reclaim their old territory.”
“Damn, that would mean this feud probably goes back 600 years.” I nursed my drink and thought about a tavern run by spider people. Nowthatwould be a sight to see.
“As long as the food is good, I’ll have no complaints,” Dante said.
“I see. We’ll have to ask if they have any fried humans.”
Dante grinned and shook his head. “I knew I should’ve lied.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warned, pointing a finger at him. “I’ll see right through you.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second.”
“No?”
“Let’s be honest, we can both see that you’ll be leading me by the ear.”
“Yeah, how do you figure?”
He leaned on the table and rested his head in his hand. “Cherry, you’ve got me chasing phoenixes through snow banks. Another day and I’ll be holding down a griffin just so you can pat the damn thing.”
“That actually sounds kinda fun.” Mentally, I added griffin to my list of pit stops.
“I’ll be the bane of every creature on this continent to get a smile from you,” he said, smiling warmly. The declaration came out easily, like his devotion to my entertainment was the most natural thing in the world. To him, it just might’ve been. Dante’s actions left no room to misinterpret his intent in taking me as his own. It was etched into every caress and look he sent my way.
The gravity of that realization sank in. I squirmed a little in my seat. My face heated, and I hid embarrassment with a laugh. “You lay it on pretty thick, don’t ya, Dante?”
