Page 52 of Royal Rising

It just goes to show how beloved Lyra is, because there is only a murmur of complaint when the music starts, and quickly the girls are surrounded by a group of fishermen, Mabel and her friends, and Jubblie Mark, as drunk as he was last night, but much happier. All of them are in varying degrees of intoxication but having fun. And no one is fighting.

The only fight there’s going to be in here tonight is between Kalle and me when I tear a strip off of him for going out with Fenella.

Or maybe I won’t. Because after I get Tyler to man the bar, I go and join them dancing and soon, I’m having too much fun to stay mad at Kalle.

That’s usually what happens.

16

Kalle

And so ends thestory of Kalle and Fenella.

I knew it wasn’t going to work out with Fenella. She was a fun girl, a gorgeous girl, but ultimately, Fenella was Gunnar’s girl. And it would have eventually been awkward.

It sounds like I’m making excuses because she decidedIwasn’t right forher,but it’s more than that. Fenella would have only been a distraction, another in a line of women I wouldn’t let myself be serious about.

She’s a nice woman and I wish her the best, but it won’t be with me.

“What now?” Dillon asks as we linger under the awning of the restaurant, watching Fenella drive off with Minka, Gunnar’s security detail. “Damn, you should have let me drive. We’re going to get soaked.”

Rain pounds the pavement in front of us, and fast-moving rivers flow toward the town square. There’s a real concern about flooding in town but the mayor has sent people to check the drainage system, and thankfully, the waves haven’t crested over the pier yet.

Over twenty-four hours and it’s still raining.

“I got an umbrella.” I show him the compact black one that Leah thrust in my hand before I left to meet Fenella. It hadn’t been raining this hard then.

“That’s not going to do a damn thing in this storm,” Dillon grouses. “You just want to go back to the pub and shake like a dog, and make it look sexy.”

“Dogs shaking are not sexy.”

“Yeah, but you with the hair—” Dillon demonstrates, shaking his head as if he still had hair and it was long and luxurious.

“You’re jealous because you have no hair?”

“I’m not jealous and if you give it another year or so, you won’t have much hair left either.”

“I cut it like this.” I thrust the umbrella into his hand. “Quit your complaining.” I flip the hood of my jacket over my head. “It’s not far. Race you.” And then I take off toward the pub, with Dillon’s curses lost in the rain.

I like storms. I like rain. And the quick run through the empty Battle Harbour streets back to the bar lets loose some of the tension that’s been building today. There are only a few places open and it seems later, as if the town has already shut down for the night. Even Coffee for the Sole has closed early and the bartender for Sailor’s Salon stands at the open door and watches us run past with a forlorn wave.

The people are bracing for the worst of the storm, and here I am, running through the rain.

But when we yank open the door to the pub, bringing in a rush of cold air and wet, I find no one here is bracing for bad weather. There’s a fair crowd lined up along the bar, the pool table has itsusual game going, but the tables have been pushed back and there’s a scrum in the middle of the floor.

Unlike last night, no one is fighting.

They’re dancing.

And I find my sister, arms up and red hair thrown back, in the middle of it.

Of course.

The music drowns out the rain and the thunder, and I give my head a shake—but not like a sexy Dillon dog shake—as I peel off my wet coat.

“Seems like things have picked up since you left,” Dillon comments with a snort.

I nod wryly to Lennie Tak as I make my way to the bar. It’s not the first time Lyra went looking for fun in here and it won’t be the last.

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