Page 78 of Held

Briar waved back at them. “Will! Good to see the baby’s finally being brought into the fold. About time he sharpened his teeth.”

“He’s getting the hang of it,” William replied. He tilted his hat at Wick. “Mister Skullstalker! Always a pleasure.”

“And to you,” Wick replied, amused. William was the latest in a surprisingly strong line of mortals who called Wick their friend, a fact that Wick was still getting used to.

The younger brother, Emery, cleared his throat.

“We come with offerings,” called Emery timidly.

William rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to announce it, you dolt. They can see the bag.”

He whacked the aforementioned bag hanging over Emery’s shoulder. Emery heaved it to the ground, revealing gold coins, woven blankets, and a fish paste that Wick enjoyed.

Briar looked at Wick. He inhaled deeply and nodded.

“Good lads,” Briar called. “I do love it when you stop in Hasterville; Wick can’t get enough of that fish stuff. What job do you have for us?”

“There is a town up north that requests help,” William declared. “They are beset upon by pixies. They said you helped them before?”

Briar groaned, stirring her cider with a long spoon. “We told them to keep the wards up. Wick, didn’t we tell them?”

“We told them,” Wick said. “But it has been a mortal generation. They will have forgotten.”

“Damn mortals and their damn lifespans,” Briar muttered. She straightened in her chair and considered. It was alongtrek. They had just finished planting the tomatoes in the vegetable garden. And Briar didn’t particularly want to sleep rough for so long.

She turned to Wick and found him watching her intently. Anything she said, he would do.

Briar gave him a fond smile and turned back to the Emmett brothers.

“You two can take care of it,” she said.

William’s brows rose. “You have been turning down many of our quests lately. Is the Lady Thief getting a bit long in the tooth?”

Briar laughed, enjoying how panicked it made Emery look. “Excuse me for thinking you two can handle a simple pixie job on your own!”

“You have our trust,” Wick said. “Tell them we sent you. They will reward you richly.”

William hesitated. He seemed on the verge of a question. Then he bowed, barely an inclination of his head compared to the low bow his little brother sank into.

“That means a lot,” he said, and Briar could hear the sincerity despite his cocky smirk. “We will report back when the matter is solved.”

“Stay safe,” Wick said.

“And you.” William gave them another brisk nod, his eyes full of questions that Briar still denied him after all their years of working together. Then he strode back through the trees, his brother on his tail.

Briar went back to stirring her cider. It was homemade, yet another hobby Wick had picked up since settling down. Cider-making and making ornaments out of animal skulls: two of his favorite pastimes in the last decades.

“That makes three jobs you have turned down,” Wick told her.

Briar sipped her cider and shrugged. “Who can be bothered traveling all that way? Besides, I’d miss home.”

She could feel his eyes on her. But she still waited until he leaned over to her chair and picked her up, depositing her in his lap.

“Oh?” he said warmly.

Briar lifted her glass. “You made me spill my cider.”

He stuck his long tongue out and ran the tip along the glass, cleaning up the drop that had rolled down the surface.

---