Page 14 of Needed in the Night
“You do not know who I am,” I countered, my focus on the process of mixing two Bacorian fullwells ordered by a pair of well-dressed traders at the far end of the bar. They looked the type to tip well for well-made drinks and prompt service. “Nor did you know who Iwas. I played the role of a soldier, but it was a role I was conscripted into. Even then you saw only what you wanted to see.”
Kona scoffed. “Do you sleep well at night telling yourself these lies? Or do you doubt them as much as I do?”
“I sleep very well,” I lied, pouring a carefully measured draught of bitterflower extract into each of the cocktails. “You have your drink. Others want theirs. I have no interest in dredging up the past, and no obligation to let you sit here and be insulting.” I hooked my thumb at the placard on the wall behind me that stated my right to refuse service to customers who violated the house rules for hospitality. “Either take your drink and go somewhere else or drink in silence.”
With a chuckle, she picked up her glass and turned on her chair to face the stage, where Isla had just begun another song—this one, a popular local tune about sailing on a vast pink ocean searching for a mythical island. Some patrons were singing along, which Isla clearly enjoyed, and even directed them when to sing louder and then more softly.
“Beautiful singer,” Kona mused, sipping her drink. Her lip curled in distaste. “Not your type at all, of course. Too fragile. But I see why you were staring at her earlier.”
Out of sight behind the counter, my fingers tightened on the flask of onyx-colored syrup that was the final ingredient in the fullwells, leaving a dent in its side.
I had not seen Kona in the bar watching me earlier, but she might have found a place to sit or stand out of my line of sight. Or she might not have seen anything at all, and simply trying to get under my skin in a different way.
Best to ignore her. She would not give up, if our previous interactions were any indication, but I did not have to give her the satisfaction of reacting.
Carefully, I poured three drops of syrup into each glass, watched it spread into a thin, even layer across the top of the liquid, and corked the flask before setting it back on the shelf. I delivered the drinks to the traders, accepted my gratuity—which was more than the cost of the drinks—and slipped the credits into my collection box behind the bar.
With my back to the stage, my spines prickled. A familiar warmth spread over my shoulders. Isla was watching me.
It was a curse and a blessing that I was always aware when my mate’s gaze fell on me. That warmth reminded me she was nearby. It soothed my hearts and quieted my beastly rage, and promised tomorrows full of joys and contentment. The pleasure far outweighed the ache.
But when I turned around, Isla’s attention had moved toKona, who was now leaning with one elbow on the bar and staring back, her expression hard and dark eyes flinty.
Atolani were a fierce warrior race. Many found them intimidating even when not on the receiving end of a glare. Isla showed no sign of fear or being intimidated, though. After a beat, she redirected her attention to a boisterous group of young Engareni females sitting near the stage who squawked their appreciation for her singing.
“Hrm…maybe not so fragile,” Kona said over her shoulder. She drained the last of her aperitif, grimaced, and slid the glass down the bar in my direction, forcing me to lunge to catch it before it flew off and broke on the floor. With a smirk, she stood. “Still, not someone who’d think much of you, I suspect.”
“Why did you come here?” I dropped the damaged glass into the refuse chute. “What is it you want? You chose your path after our service in the Corps and I chose mine. I never wronged you.”
“You don’t think so?” Her hands clenched into fists. “I vouched for you with my squad. I stuck my neck out for you to make sure you had work once they put your leg back together. And what did you do? Youleft. You slunk back here to pour drinks and listen to a little human screech for credits.”
My anger at her disparaging comments about Isla far exceeded my feelings about her accusations against me, but I did not want to engage with Kona about Isla.
“I never asked you to do anything on my behalf,” I said, my voice cold. “I would never have joined up with a mercenary squad, not even if the alternative was starvation. The fact you thought I would proves you did not know me and never will.”
“Yes, how dare I think the male who’d shared my bunk readily enough when he wanted comfort and pleasure between battles would come with me to a better life.” Her caustic laugh made my spines bristle. I had to force them to lie flat again. “Iknew you were a beast, Mikas, but I didn’t know you were such a hypocrite—or self-righteous bastard.”
To be a mercenary raider was no better life—it was a life of cruelty, robbery, and often cold-blooded murder. I could not fool myself into believing everything we had done as soldiers had been honorable or just, but there was little similarity between our service in the Corps and what she had done as a mercenary. My stomach churned even contemplating what horrors she might have participated in during the past two years.
Damn Kona to all the hells for coming here, for dredging up memories I had tried so hard to bury. For reminding me of decisions I had regretted almost from the moment I made them, and for speaking vicious words that stung not because they were not true, but because they were.
For giving voice to my own fears that someone as wondrous as Isla Mair could never think me worthy of more than friendship.
“I have work to do,” I said again. “If you have said your piece, the door is that way.”
“I’m happy to use it.” She gave me a careless facsimile of the Corps salute, her mouth twisted in a vicious grin. “May you have the life you deserve.”
“You as well,” I said.
After one last lingering glare at Isla, Kona disappeared into the crowd in the direction of the main doors that opened onto the street. I gripped the counter behind the bar so hard that it creaked and my knuckles turned pale.
Why had Kona come to Fortusia? To seek me out? If so, why? And why did her fury and hate burn so fiercely this many years later? We had made no claims on each other, and my refusal to become a mercenary should not have been enough to earn such venomous wrath.
Four drink orders awaited my attention on the screen infront of me—one blinking red because it had been in the queue for a while. I raised my hand by way of apology and acknowledgement to the customer who had placed the order and hurried to make the drink. Staying busy would allow me to push Kona’s words and my memories aside.
As I worked, Isla’s sweet voice and the familiar rhythms of tending bar eased my anger and disquiet and allowed my spines to relax. I also kept one eye on my wristcomm, noting the time and counting down to the end of Isla’s set, when she would come to the bar for her usual brandy and a chat.
Only an hour to go before I could drink in her scent and find my peace once again.
