Page 73 of Tusks, Tails & Teacakes
"You expect me to believe that The Tusk & Tail suddenly started thriving because of a few meat pies and fancy tea?" Rygor hissed, his nostrils flaring. "The laird will hear about this."
Lira stiffened as Silas slid from his stool at the far end of the bar and shuffled up to Rygor, his thin lips stretched in a smile that made Lira's skin crawl.
"The reeve is right to be suspicious," Silas said, his voice carrying just enough for Lira to hear. "The place was barely staying afloat, and then these two show up, start making changes…” He flicked a glance toward their table, his gaze hardening with unmasked disdain.
"Who is that?" Vaskel asked quietly.
"The wyvern is Rygor, the village reeve." Lira kept her voice low. "He collects taxes for the laird. The man next to him is Silas. He doesn't appreciate what Sass and I have done with the place."
"That’s putting it mildly," Sass said.
Rygor's head swiveled toward their table, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Vaskel. The wyvern straightened, leaving Silas mid-sentence, and began stalking toward them.
"You have new friends," Rygor said to Lira, his wings twitching beneath his cloak as he approached. "How interesting."
Vaskel stood in one fluid motion, his height nearly a match for the wyvern. The Tiefling's tail slashed behind him, and though his posture appeared casual, Lira recognized the coiled readiness in his stance. She'd seen him like this before fights.
"I don't believe we've met," Vaskel said, his voice lower than usual, velvet wrapped around iron. "I'm an old friend of Lira's."
Rygor's scaled lips pulled back, revealing teeth that were just a bit too pointed for comfort. "But not from around here."
Vaskel returned the smile with one equally as menacing. “I roam where I please.”
Lira held her breath, aware that everyone in the tavern was watching.
"I was just reminding the proprietor of this establishment," Rygor said, still addressing Vaskel but now looking at Lira and Sass, "that the laird owns a share of their success."
"Does he now?" Vaskel's voice dropped even lower, the hint of a growl rumbling beneath his words. "Funny, I wasn't aware that collecting crumbs from honest work would interest a laird.”
Rygor's clawed hands flexed at his sides. "The laird's business is whatever the laird deems it to be."
"Perhaps," Vaskel stepped closer, his tail carving an angry arc through the air, "the laird should find his crumbs elsewhere."
The wyvern's wings strained against his cloak, but after a tense moment, his posture eased slightly. He swept his gaze around the tavern, taking in the watching faces. Then his eyes returned to Vaskel, reassessing.
"Another time, then," Rygor said, his voice calmer, though his eyes remained cold. "But remember, the laird's due will be collected one way or another."
With that, he turned and swept from the tavern, his cloak billowing behind him. Silas lingered at the bar, his sour expression focused on Lira, before he too slunk out the door.
Conversation slowly resumed, though at a more subdued volume. Vaskel sat back down, adjusting his cloak with a casual flick of his wrist, as Sass hurried off to refill ales.
"You may have just made an enemy," Lira said.
Vaskel laughed, the sound warm after the cold exchange with Rygor. "I'll add him to the list. Besides, I've faced worse than an overgrown lizard with delusions of grandeur."
Lira shook her head but couldn't help smiling. Vaskel had always been like this—quick to dive into danger, quicker to brush it off afterward. It was part of what made him both infuriating and endearing.
"You know," Vaskel said after a moment, his expression growing more serious, "I meant what I said earlier. About us still being a family." He reached across the table and touched her hand lightly. "You leaving didn't change that."
The warmth of his touch brought a lump to Lira's throat. “I’m glad you found me, Vask.”
Forty-Three
“Are you still glad you came?”Lira asked Vaskel as they walked along the dark, dirt road leading to the heart of the village and toward Wayside’s only inn. “Even after learning about Pirrin?”
She’d thrown on her old rogue’s cloak to walk with him, and even though she’d arrived in it, she hadn’t worn it since she’d started reviving the tavern. It felt strange to wear it again, but she was glad for the added warmth on the crisp night.
His nod was curt. “I’d rather know, even though I wish I didn’t.”
