Who’s Grouchier?

Candlelight flickered across the tavern as Talia wiped tears from her face with her hand. Her eyes remained fixed on Max, who lay unconscious on a table.

She looked up at Miranda. “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” Miranda smiled. “He just needs a little rest.”

“But his mana—”

“Is filling up as we speak.” She took Talia’s hand and placed it on Max’s. “Don’t do anything—just feel his mana. Just an hour ago, it felt cold. Now what does it feel like?”

Talia’s face brightened. “It feels warm!”

“It does. See? He’s just sleeping now—and you should too, if you want to be awake when he wakes up.”

Carla walked over with a smile and pointed toward the corner. “I made you a bed—with blankets and pillows.”

Talia’s eyes grew heavy. She barely made it to the makeshift bed before she fell asleep.

Atalanta walked over and pulled the blanket up to the girl’s shoulders. “She’s a good little sister.”

“You better not say that in front of Max.” Miranda scrunched up her face in imitation of the nine-year-old. “‘She’s not my little sister!’”

Atalanta laughed, then looked toward Artemis, who still lay unconscious on another table with Claudia and Daphne hovering about.

“She’ll be okay,” Miranda said. “Donavan, too. They should both be up and around by the time the lunch crowd gets here tomorrow.”

“Good.” Sarah smiled. “Our customers are pretty loyal, but unconscious bodies might test even them.”

“You might prefer Artemis to stay unconscious. She’ll be grouchier than the nine-year-old when she wakes up—and hungry.” Miranda chuckled. “I took a lot of her mana—that hurts. She’s going to feel it for a while.”

“She’ll make some noise.” Atalanta shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“She’d do anything for you.”

“Of course! She’s a good little sister.”

For a few minutes, the tavern settled back into silence.

The fire had burned low, and only the candles and a few glowing coals lit the room. Outside, the city was quiet after the night’s fighting.

Then the tavern door opened. Jeremy stepped inside, looking tired.

Sarah crossed the room to meet him. Jeremy had volunteered to speak with the city watch after the fighting. He knew the city—and the people who ran it.

“How did it go with the city watch?”

“It wasn’t just them. The Governor—”

Atalanta started toward the door, but Jeremy caught her by the arm. “Don’t.”

“But I need to explain—”

“They’re gone. They took the bandits’ bodies with them.”

Atalanta frowned. “They weren’t bandits. They were the Knights Guard.”

“The Governor has decided they were bandits.”

“Why?”

“You can ask him yourself. He wants to talk—here. Tomorrow morning.”

Atalanta glanced toward the door.

“Talk? Are you sure it’s not a trick? We could leave tonight.”

Daphne put her hand on Atalanta’s arm. “Artemis and Donavan are still unconscious. There could be more Knights outside the city walls.”

Atalanta looked toward the two wounded warriors.

Daphne continued, “If we’re going to leave, we’ll be better off waiting until they can ride—or fight.”

Atalanta nodded reluctantly. “You’re right. Can you keep watch tonight? I know you’re tired, but without Artemis…”

Daphne chuckled. “If you’re looking for me, I’ll be on the roof until morning.”

Atalanta gave her a grateful nod.

Daphne gathered her bow and slipped toward the stairs.

The others slowly settled in for what remained of the night.

***

By dawn, the candles had burned down to stubs. Morning light slipped through the tavern windows and fell across the tables.

Then it touched Max’s face.

He opened his eyes to find Talia staring at him.

“What are you looking at?” He frowned. “Why am I on a table?”

“He’s awake!” Talia bounced on her toes. “He’s awake!”

Jonas walked over. “How do you feel?”

“I—I don’t know what happened.”

“You were in a trance,” Talia answered. “Your eyes were white and—”

“No!” Max turned his head away. “No. No—”

“But you are better now. And Sir Donavan is—”

“Don’t talk to me! Go away!”

Jonas put a hand on Talia’s shoulder. “Can you find Miranda and tell her Max is awake?”

Talia wiped a tear from her eye. “Yes, Daddy.”

As soon as Talia was out of sight, Donavan spoke. “Max, turn around.”

The boy did not move. “You aren’t my—”

“This has to stop. You can’t treat Talia like that every time you’re upset. She—”

“She’s not my sister.”

“She’s a person who cares about you. That should be enough.”

“I never asked—”

“But she loves you anyway. She helped break the trance. It hurts her every time, but that little girl has never cried once.”

Max said nothing.

“She’s crying now.”

Jonas walked away, leaving Max staring at the ceiling.

He closed his eyes but didn’t sleep.

Across the tavern, Atalanta was still asleep beneath a blanket beside her mother.

An hour passed before—

“Damn! Damn! Damn!”

Atalanta opened her eyes. “It sounds as if my dear sister has awakened.”

She pushed herself up from the blanket.

“Miranda!” Artemis yelled as she swung herself off the table. “What did you do to me?”

Sarah rushed over. “Oh, are you pregnant too?”

“Not funny!” Artemis groaned. “My whole body aches!”

Miranda walked over, contrite but calm. “Donavan was in rough shape. I had to take more mana than usual.”

“So I feel like total shit because Sir Boring couldn’t dodge the one arrow that went his way?”

“No. Not one arrow—every arrow. They were meant for him.” Atalanta walked over and took a seat beside the wincing Artemis. “He was the target last night.”

“Him? Why?”

“He betrayed the Order for us.”

“Us? You mean you.”

“No. I mean all of us. You were the first.”

“Me?”

“You wiped out an entire warrior party. That is not something the Order just ignores.”

“Well, I had to do that because you were stupid enough to get drugged by Red over there.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “So it’s all my fault?”

“You’re talking like we’re in a bad place right now,” Atalanta said.

“Well, I hurt like hell—so, yeah!”

“But you are surrounded by friends.”

“Sir Boring’s not why—”

“He chose us over the Order—misdirecting them, feeding me information.”

Artemis stared at her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Donavan was the one taking the risk. He asked me not to.” Atalanta sighed. “But it doesn’t matter now. The Order knows.”

“They could have killed him any time. Why last night?”

“To them, he’s a traitor. They were most likely trying to make a statement with a public execution.” A soft smile tugged at her lips. “Or maybe they didn’t figure it out until he kissed me.”

“Boring kissed you!”

“It was worth it.” The voice came from the other table.

Everyone turned.

Donavan groaned as he opened his eyes.

“You’re awake!” Atalanta rushed over.

“It’s been sort of hard to sleep with Artemis cursing and screaming.”

“Shut up. I saved your life.”

Donavan sat up on the table. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

Before Artemis could retort, the tavern door opened again.

The peddler walked through carrying a large wooden crate. “How is everyone? Is—”

He scanned the room and smiled “Everyone’s awake. Good! I have turnovers!”

“Turnovers!” four little girls squealed from the back of the tavern. They came running toward the crate.

“Don’t even think of touching those, you little brats.” Artemis grabbed the crate and glared at them. “They’re mine.”

“There’s enough for everyone—”

“They’re mine!” she mumbled through a mouthful of turnover.

The peddler laughed.

Across the room, Max watched the chaos.

Children argued over pastries. Artemis madly devoured turnovers as if they could make up for the previous night’s lost mana.

But Talia wasn’t part of any of it. She sat at the edge of the room with her knees against her chest.

Max got up and took a few steps in her direction but then turned and walked to where the others had gathered.

Artemis was facing away from him, defending her crate.

Daphne, who had just come down from the roof, spotted him behind the crate and gave him a wink. Then she called out, “Artemis! You aren’t going to eat all of those. You’re going to be hating life even if you try.”

“I’m already hating life!” Artemis shouted. She pushed the crate farther away from the girls—and directly in front of Max.

Max grabbed two pastries, gave Daphne a little salute, and slipped away before the mana-deprived Artemis could notice.

He did not return to his table. Instead, he walked to the far side of the room where Talia remained silent.

He sat down next to her. “I have turnovers. I had to steal them from Artemis when she wasn’t looking.”

Talia turned away from him.

“Look,” he said. “I was scared. I—”

“You were mean. You’re always mean.”

“Miranda and Jonas aren’t my parents.” He looked down. “I can’t see my parents because I can’t track my mana.”

He swallowed. “It makes me sad.”

Talia turned. “I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s not your fault.”

They looked at each other for a moment.

Max was the first to speak. “You know, I am the youngest in my family.”

“But you’re so big.”

“Well, in my family I’m the littlest.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe it would be nice to be a big brother.”

“A big brother?”

“Yeah. So do you think you could be a little sister?”

He handed her an apple turnover. “My little sister.”

“Hostenberry.” Talia grinned as she eyed the other turnover. “Your little sister likes hostenberry.”

“But I like the—”

He stopped, tore the hostenberry turnover in half, carefully examined the pieces, and handed her one.

“You get the smaller piece. You’re the little sister.”

She smiled, and they ate their turnovers together.

Across the room, Artemis was devouring yet another turnover as four little girls watched.

She looked down at them. “Quit drooling, you little—”

“Artemis!” Daphne yelled.

“Fine.” She pushed the crate toward them.

“They’re yours!”

The little girls plowed into the crate.

The peddler watched the girls descend on the pastries with a smile. Then he looked out the window.

His smile faded. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Atalanta asked.

He motioned toward the street. “The Governor is waiting outside with a dozen knights. I assume you have a plan.”

Atalanta looked toward the window.

Her eyes moved around the tavern.

Donavan was wounded. Artemis was in pain. Daphne could barely keep her eyes open. Jonas was busy with the children.

The Governor has chosen his moment well.

He thinks we are weak. He’s trying to intimidate us.

Atalanta smiled.

She remembered one of Donavan’s first lessons.

Hide your strengths. Find their weakness.

She looked toward Artemis.

Then toward Donavan.

Then the peddler.

Maybe.

But not today.

“I suppose we should show a little of our strength. We meet him outside while the blood of our enemies is still fresh on the ground.”

She turned toward the others. “Swords, bows—you are with me. You too, Doctor.”

“Me?” Miranda asked. “What can I—”

“Keep Daphne awake. If she nods off, poke her with a pin. Or mana. Whatever works.”

As Atalanta reached the door, the peddler leaned close. “Don’t be afraid to negotiate.”

Atalanta smiled.

Then she stepped outside, followed by two warriors, two archers, and a doctor.