Page 66 of Shadows of Winter

“Sorry.” Kaylina grimaced at the reminder that she’d struggled to get out of bed the last few mornings, with feelings of desolation, regret, and defeat weighing on her more heavily than the blankets. The past week’s gray sky and another round of snow hadn’t helped. This was the first day that had dawned clear and bright since they’d arrived in Port Jirador. “I will be. And I am. The sun feels good and is making me think my dream might be attainable. All morning, I’ve been envisioning our tables filled with people enjoying our food and mead. I also appreciate that no rangers, aside from their conscientious doctor, have come by to pester us since the night I was injured.”

“Do you?” Frayvar arched his eyebrows. “You’ve mentioned Lord Vlerion a lot.”

“Only to curse him for being pompous, I’m sure.”

Had she brought him up often? She’d thought of him from time to time, but life was simpler when he wasn’t around. When none of the rangers were. Left undisturbed, Kaylina and Frayvar had made progress cleaning, and a crew from Saybrook Industries had come to repair broken wood and missing stones, so their eating house could open soon. They’d agreed not to worry about the inn part for now, largely because of the curse and the skeleton-filled rooms upstairs. Someday, they would have to clean those out and figure out the glowing tower, but Kaylina first wanted to see if they could host an opening night without anyone being murdered by the castle.

“You’ve mentioned his muscles three times,” Frayvar said.

“Are you keeping track?”

“I do like to collect and collate data.”

“If I’ve brought up his muscles, it was only to say that it would have been useful to have someone strong to help us move furniture.” Kaylina blushed as she remembered the alcove and being pressed against Vlerion for those long minutes while he stroked her hair. She didn’t like him, so she didn’t know why that memory kept popping up. It wasn’t as if she wanted a relationship with a haughty ranger.

“Hm.” Frayvar pushed a notepad toward her, columns of numbers taking up the top page. “I’ve put together our expenses for the last week, what a realistic budget would be, how much we need to gross to break even, and how many customers a day and the average ticket cost we’ll need to see to achieve that.”

“That’s good.” Kaylina sipped from her goblet while eyeing a spruce tree near the river. It wasn’t one of the handful of evergreens that grew on the islands down south, but she’d once seen a recipe for a mead flavored with spruce tips and admitted curiosity. When they had their flagship recipes perfected, she would experiment with some of the local ingredients.

Something moved behind the tree, startling her.

“We got our lease for less than I expected, not to mention all the free equipment and supplies, so we’re under budget. I didn’t anticipate that. Even so, my funds will only go so far. We need to start bringing in an income soon.”

“Naturally.” Kaylina leaned back so she could see… Was that blue fur?

“What do you think about printing up posters and distributing them in the markets? Maybe we can give away free samples on the first day.”

“Good idea. We’ll have to do some marketing in the beginning, until the magnificence of our food and word of mouth combine to make us a raving success.”

A taybarri padded out from behind the tree and looked at her. Was that Crenoch?

“I take it back,” Frayvar said. “You are in an optimistic mood today.”

“You did request that.”

“I guess so, but don’t forget to be realistic. You’ve heard Grandma’s stories about how it took five years for the eating house to turn a profit and ten before they started getting recognition and awards.”

“It didn’t help that pirates lit the Gull on fire twice during that time, and thieves robbed it every other winter.”

Yes, that was Crenoch. He walked toward the open gate to the courtyard, his tail swishing and his nostrils twitching.

“Oh, we’ll have our hardships too,” Frayvar said. “I have no doubt.”

Though Kaylina liked the taybarri, she set her goblet down and hurried to the gate, intending to close it. She would have loved to stroke that lush blue fur, but she didn’t want the rangers irked with her. Nor did she want the castle to start thinking she was allied with them.

“Sorry, Crenoch.” She gripped the rusty gate. “We can’t serve furry people. Besides, I have a feeling someone is looking for you.”

And that someone would be torqued with her if he found his mount in her courtyard again.

As Kaylina swung the gate shut, Crenoch sprang and blurred. That was the only word she had for it. He blurred and disappeared, appearing an instant later in the courtyard, right next to the goblet-laden table.

Frayvar cried out in surprise and fell off the bench.

For a moment, Kaylina could only grip the half-closed gate and stare. She had, of course, heard the stories of the taybarri’s inherent power to do exactly what she’d witnessed—it was one of the reasons the rangers loved riding them into battle—but she’d never seen it before.

With Crenoch looming, Frayvar half-scrambled and half-rolled away, raising an arm defensively in case the taybarri attacked. But the only things Crenoch attacked were the goblets. And he did so far more gently than Kaylina would have expected. The tip of his large tongue dipped into them, and his tail swished happily across the pavers as he lapped up mead.

“Uhm.” Kaylina hurried to help her brother up while debating if she had the power to stop the sampling. She had no idea how much Crenoch weighed, but taybarri were bigger—especially longer—than horses, and she had seen them carry up to four grown men. “I don’t think animals are supposed to have alcohol, my friend.”

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