Page 42 of The Dark Elf's Secret Twins

“Where’s Mama?” They always ask me. It breaks my heart to see their saddened faces when I tell them that she and I don’t see each other much. It hurts not only because we should all be spending family time together but because I wish to reunite with Cyra, for things to be normal again.

The only times we see one another now are to exchange the children, but that feels more like a business transaction than anything else. We haven’t even asked each other how we’re doing in so long. Somehow, I feel like it is all my own doing.

I know what Cyra wants from me. She wishes for me to open up, to spill all about my past. It’s just too much for me to take, especially with all that’s going on at the moment. In the past week, all this mental shit has been coming down on me so hard that my job has suffered.

I’m aware of how bad I’m doing and how much I’m fucking up, even now as I sit at the bar in Le Lazurt. There was a time I couldn’t even bat an eye at the bar’s general direction but the pain is something I’ve become accustomed to, somehow anticipating and welcoming it each evening.

“Another drink please,” I call to the bartender.

“Are you sure?” she replies.

“Are you questioning me?” I hiss.

“No, no, not at all.”

She pours more zhisk into my glass. Without waiting for her to retract, I grab the glass and knock it back in one go. The nutty taste of the brown liquid burns my throat, further numbing my feelings and thoughts.

I look around me, spotting prying eyes from regular patrons. No doubt they were used to seeing me deal with drunkards, not being one myself. Their judging looks only infuriate me.

“What the fuck are you all looking at?” I exclaim, causing them to look away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

I’m about to signal for another refill when a familiar hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I glance to my right to see Benshobe looking at me with a concerned expression.

“What the fuck do you want?” I ask, slurring my words.

“Lykan, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Well… I’ve never seen you drink on the job before,” he says.

“What? Am I not allowed? It’s a fucking bar,” I snarl.

“There’s no rule saying you can’t enjoy a drink but… I would prefer if you didn’t do

it during business hours.”

“Leave me be, Benshobe. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Well then can you go backstage and do your job? We’ve a few chivdouyu falling

over themselves back there and the staff can’t handle them.”

“When I’m done here,” I growl. “You want my advice? Get staff who can handle a drunk musician or two.”

I motion for the bartender. She approaches with a bottle of zhisk at the ready to refill my glass. Just before she pours, Benshobe places his hand over it, shaking his head at the girl. She quickly retreats to the other side of the bar.

“What gives?” I snap.

“You’ve had enough,” says Benshobe.

“How about you fuck off and let me enjoy myself in this shithole for once?” I reply, raising my voice.

Some of the other patrons look our way. Benshobe looks at them and gives them reassuring looks.

“Don’t worry folks,” he chuckles.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” I snap.

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