23. Chapter 23

Chapter twenty-three

Fenella

A fter dinner, I'm still high on my ideas, so I suggest we head into town so I can check out the competition.

"A reconnaissance mission," I say to Gunnar, knowing he loves the idea of anything adventurous.

He almost doesn't agree because Stella isn't keen on the idea—it's too late, they're leaving the next day, she's tired. It's Edie who convinces her. She and Kalle both have the night off and are game to continue the family fun.

"But we're not going to my place," Kalle says. "You've been there enough. You know what it's like."

Spencer comes with us, and Duncan and King Magnus agree to one drink at a bar.

Barhopping with the royal family.

Not an unusual night for me.

"No pictures," Gunnar warns me as we tumble out of the two SUVs. The security team brought us into town, parking in front of our first stop, Geri and Freki's.

"Want to take my phone to make sure?" I offer it to him.

"I trust you. "

I push it at him. "Seriously, take it. I can't stop taking the worst pictures when I'm drinking."

He gives a chortle of laughter and pockets my phone. "Remember that night on Milo's father's yacht? I think it was in Greece somewhere and you and Lavinia were doing shots. You took that horrible picture when she was about to throw up—"

"And she did throw up, all over the phone—"

"Only it was Rupert's phone," Gunnar finishes, slapping his thigh at the memory.

I laugh with him until I catch sight of Stella, standing behind Gunnar. She doesn't look angry or jealous but somewhat uneasy. Out of place.

Pulling Stella over, I tuck my arm in hers and lead her into the bar. "Do you do shots?" I ask conversationally.

"I've been known to," she says carefully.

"Well, that's something we have in common, because so do I. Hello," I say to the bartender, who greets us with a frown, that quickly changes to shock and awe when he notices King Magnus behind me.

"Your Majesty—" he breathes, looking old enough to have been around for the previous king.

I wiggle my finger in his face. "You're talking to me first, so focus. I need shots for all—a round of J?egarbombs." I stand on my tiptoes to see over the bartender's shoulder. "Maybe not, because I'm not seeing it there. Irish whiskey?"

"We're not drinking Irish whiskey," Magnus roars. "We'll drink my mead. "

"Shots first," Gunnar tells him, crowding beside Stella.

"Fireballs?" I suggest. "Do you mind if I come back there to take care of this?" I ask the bartender. I think we might have overwhelmed him, because he can only nod, eyes full of amazement darting from one royal to another.

"Don't you ever come in here?" I ask Gunnar as I slide around to the other side of the bar.

"We go to Kalle's. He gets pouty if we don't."

"Is this okay, Wade?" Kalle asks the bartender.

"Sure, fine, be my guest," he mutters.

"Hello, Wade, I'm Fenella." I smile brightly as he stands with a stunned expression off to the side. "Give me a minute and I'll show you how to make a tasty treat, even if His Majesty has something about the Irish. And while I'm doing that, can you tell me who Geri and Freki are, and if they're here tonight? Since your fine establishment is named after them, I think it would be nice if we met."

I pour a round of Irish Car Bombs for everyone, and then a pitcher of honey mead. I discover that Geri and Freki, are not people, but the original King Odin's—he of Asgard, not Laandia—pet wolves.

This leads to a discussion as we continue on to the next bar—which is called Midgard—if Silas's club should have a Viking name.

At Midgard, Kalle and Stella—who warmed up after the Irish whiskey shot and went head-to-head with Gunnar in chugging a beer—push me behind the bar again. Since this is more of an upbeat place that caters to the younger crowd, they have a better-stocked liquor supply and I make candy corn shots to celebrate Halloween early.

"What do you think Silas should call it?" I ask Stella after we come back from the dance floor. It was a small, uneven space, and it was just the two of us dancing to Taylor Swift's country era, but I felt it was important to experience everything the bar had to offer.

"Why don't you ask him?" She grins.

I cock my head. "Do you know, I don't even have his number? This place is so small that it's no trouble to track him down. Gunnar has my phone," I add. "I need to make sure I get that back before you leave."

"You don't need Silas's number to talk to him." Stella puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me, then turns me toward the doorway.

Silas is walking into the bar.

Right now. Into Midgard, where I have drunk half a pink to the king's delicious honey mead and two candy corn shots and am now trying to dance everything out of my system.

He's here.

"He's here?" I gasp, clapping my hands. "Is he real or did that candy corn shot make things wonky?"

"I called Sophie, so they're both here, but yeah—I do feel a little wonky." But Stella still drags me over to where Silas and Sophie are greeting the king .

"Congratulations on hiring this force of nature," Magnus is telling Silas as I desert Stella and skip over to them.

"Hi," I say, unable to tone down the smile on my face. Silas has changed his shirt from the one he was wearing earlier today to a long-sleeved gray shirt that hugs parts of him that I would love to hug. "Hi."

"Hi." Silas turns away from the king of Laandia to smile down at me—which would be tantamount to treason in some countries but makes me feel really good.

"Hi," I repeat, my smile only getting wider.

"What's with all the ‘hi's," Kalle grumbles, but he crowds Silas out to speak to his father.

Which leaves Silas to talk to me.

"This is fun," he says, leaning down so I can hear him over the music. "Family time with the king?" I haven't drunk enough to miss the flash of uncertainty cross his face, so I hand him my half-empty pint of honey mead.

"It is fun! I told them at dinner all about the idea for a bar and when I said I needed a renaissance—reco-sauce… a fact-finding mission," I manage— "they all decided to come with. FYI—" I lean against Silas's arm, which suddenly slips behind my back in a very smooth move. "Sir Duncan is very attractive."

"Yes, he is," Silas agrees with a chuckle. He rests his hand gently on my hip, and alcohol or not, I like the feel of it there.

"So are you," I decide. "Why don't you like pumpkin spice? "

"I—what?"

"You don't like pumpkin spice," I point out. "But it's strange because—" I lean closer, almost resting my head on the wide breadth of his chest. "You kind of smell like it."

"Are you smelling me?" he asks in a low voice, with the kind of tone that curls around your insides.

"I—kind of, yes. You smell good," I confess.

"You smell really good, too. Like cherries." He looks as surprised as I am that those words just came out of his mouth. "And right now, a variety of alcohol."

"I'm not surprised," I say with a laugh. "You need to smell like that too. C'mon. Time to catch up. Next stop?" I call to the others.

"Sailor's Salon?" Gunnar asks.

"What about Ragnarok?" Edie demands.

"Oooh, let's go there," I cheer. "That was fun last time."

King Magnus lifts his empty glass, looking so much like a Viking—albeit one in a faded concert T-shirt and ratty jeans—that I wish I kept my phone to take a picture. "To Ragnarok!" he cries.