Two fives and a three. All odds, so it’s a win for me. I gather his coppers, then put one out to start a new pot.
“I don’t see how she could.”
The red of the dice brings Tully’s bright hair to mind. I imagine fisting my hand in those curls and forcing her head back so I can lick my way up her pale throat. I shake my head to clear the thought away.
“I see about ten ways,” Cyrus says.
I take a cold swallow of my pint. “But there’s nothing she is allowed to do per town law.”
“She’s quite good at getting around laws and ethics.” He says it like he admires her for it and I grin.
“I’m up for the challenge.” I finish up the cheddar and wipe my hands on my napkin.
“Just watch yourself if she starts being nice.”
“Will do.” I roll the dice, and they come up as a split, so I toss them once more.
The lute player starts a song that has the other pub customers clapping.
“Get to know this tune. You’ll hear it at the Goat and Dragon when Grumlin hosts the new moon ritual. If you’re the last to start clapping and someone actually catches it, you’ll owe everyone in the tavern a round.”
“Wow. All right. Thanks for the heads up.”
He nods and hands over his coppers. “Let’s end on your win here, friend. I need to see to those orcs. They get grouchy when I don’t keep them well-fed.”
I smile a greeting at the group of green fellows gathered at the door.
“Welcome!” Cyrus bellows with arms wide and his dragon tail swishing. I wonder how large a dragon he is when he shifts.
Trustan takes my plate and cup away and I focus on my notebook. The last experiment I did with the khymeia stones went awry, and I need to see where I might have misstepped. When I added a pinch of starshine pollen and a dusting of mercurialionion, the illusion which was meant to be an interpretation of my childhood home turned into a mess of vines. The combination had burned my fingers a bit as well. Maybe the stones didn’t need the mercurialionion because they had their own regenerative power. Hmm…
I jot down a few ideas about what to cup in my hands when I bring the stones together to produce the magic. I’ve done all right with no ingredients at all, but only for some spells. Maybe I could try wishberries. I wonder how that would affect the stones tie to my memory and my ownership of the stones. I actually don’t even know if my ownership of the stones even matters.
When I first found the stones in my father’s office, I hadn’t known what they were. I still don’t know much about them. I only found the one note beside them in the vault after his funeral.
I freely givethese khymeia stones to my son by blood and by soul, Argos. Son, find a darkblood to give you guidance. I never could figure them out.
“Eh, Cyrus.”
The dragon shifter looks up from a book of his own, his quill dancing with his quick writing. “Aye?”
“Do you know what a darkblood is?”
I don’t want to bring up the name of the stones in case they’re illegal. They’re the only thing that has been useful for earning money. I can’t part with them until I can buy back our land, farm implements, and seed to bring our estate back to life. My mother is too far gone in grief to help out much. I don’t want to push her. Not yet.
“Ah, that’s what northern folks used to call witches and wizards.”
Makes sense. Father was originally from the far north. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
I can feel the dragon’s focus on me, so I gather my cloak, notebook, and quill and head to my room. “Good night!” I call to him.
He nods, but he looks suspicious of me now. I shouldn’t have asked him about the darkblood term. It’s piqued his curiosity. I don’t need anyone getting into my business until I have it figured out myself.
That night, I try to dream about more spells I could cast and how to fix my illusion casting, but instead, my mind is filled with the witch’s glare and the way she came at me like a lioness.
Chapter 3
