Chapter 14

"If there's a dragon in the mines, don't you think we should go straight to Jostein about it?" Tormund asked, still eyeing the talon. Balder had arrived only a few moments later, and Tormund had whisked the claw out of sight. But now that we were back at my cottage, he'd brought it back out again.

I'd asked him to give me a moment to think before we decided what to do about it. But at least an hour had passed since then, and I was no closer to knowing than I had been before.

"I am on the fence about that," was my reply.

"A dragon who now has the power of the Everstone?" Tormund looked up. "Sounds like a dangerous combination."

"Look at the size of that talon," I told him. "It's barely as big as your hand."

"You make my hands sound small," he countered. "I can assure you, they are plenty large enough, just like the rest of me."

I blinked, my chest warming. "I'm going to choose to ignore the last part of that comment. But yes, while you are—"

"Big." He grinned.

I rolled my eyes. "Dragons are supposed to be incredible, majestic beings."

"Are you saying I'm not majestic?"

"Can we please focus on the task at hand?"

"I don't know." His smile widened. "Are you able to focus, or am I too distracting? Is it my big hands? Don't think I haven't noticed you keep looking at them."

"I am looking at the talon." I cleared my throat. Truth was, he'd caught me. I had been looking at his hands, but only to measure the size of the talon. I hadn't been wondering what exactly he meant by big. Or what else might be even larger. "What I'm trying to say is that a full-grown dragon's talon would be much larger than that. This one belongs to an adolescent."

"All right. That seems possible. I'm not sure where you're going with this, however."

"Well, I don't want anyone to hurt him. Or her," I said.

Tormund's lips quirked up in the corners. "You want to protect the dragon—the one who stole your coveted Everstone."

"I mean, according to you, it's a fake, so."

"And you don't believe it is?" He cocked a brow.

"I don't see what anyone would get out of it."

"Get out of what?" Jostein asked as his boots tapped the stone path. He came to a stop a few feet away, his wide eyes surveying the mess of vines. "You still haven't trimmed these plants?"

"That's why I started carving out a new space," I said, jerking my thumb toward the abandoned pickaxe and the small curve in the wall.

He shook his head. "Nevermind that. Did you find anything at the tavern?"

"No," I said tightly, then gently elbowed Tormund's side.

He grinned up at Jostein. "Just a lot of ale. Say, you ever think about putting a hearth in the tavern? It'd be nice and cozy to have some fire in—ow!"

"Oh, sorry," I chirped, removing my elbow from his side. "Didn't realize how close you were."

Jostein frowned. "Well, I can't say I've ever thought about it seeing as the tavern isn't mine. I can make the suggestion to Balder, but I can already tell you his answer. He'll say there's not enough space, and he'd rather have the bard stage than a hearth. But nevermind all that. You really didn't find anything?"

"I suppose it was only wishful thinking," I said quickly. "I mean, you'd already searched for answers, right?"

He heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his beard. "I'd just hoped you'd spot something I'd missed. You've always had a keen eye for detail."

"I agree," Tormund piped up. "Astrid here does notice details others do not. Such as the size of things."

"Will you stop it?" I hissed at him.

"What's this about, then?" Jostein asked.

Tormund opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. There was no telling what he'd spout next. "He's just annoyed the competition has been put on hold, and he's blaming me for it."

"I'm sorry, lad," Jostein said, awkwardly patting Tormund's shoulder. "I'd reschedule the trial for tomorrow night, but everyone's feeling uneasy about the missing gem. Once we sort that out, we can get everything back on track."

"And if no one finds it?" Tormund asked.

"Well." Jostein tugged on the end of his beard. "I suppose there'll be no more competition until next year. We'll just have to throw a party instead. Don't worry—I can promise you it'll be quite the show if it comes to that."

Jostein clapped his hands together and started rattling off things to plan, like he'd already given up on finding the Everstone. I didn't blame him. Rockheim took in prisoners from other islands, who were promptly put to work, but we here in the north didn't have much by way of warriors or guards. We'd never needed them, for the most part. The idea we had to track down a thief felt as foreign as the faraway lands of Azraak.

After asking us to inform him if we came upon any clues at all, Jostein eventually wandered off, knocking on nearby doors to tell them the same. His voice drifted toward us, echoing down the chasm. He was already telling people there was going to be a party.

"You're really not going to tell him about the talon?" Tormund murmured.

"No." I shook my head. "At least not yet."

"Then what, pray tell, do you plan to do in the meantime?"

I leaned closer to whisper into his ear, my head bumping against the base of his horns. "I want to find the dragon."

Unfortunately, the dragon hunting would have to wait until the morning. Lilia and Ragnar descended upon my humble abode only moments later, and then Yulla ventured out of her cottage to see what all the fuss was about. They wanted to know everything. And then they wanted to cheer me up, even though they all knew I'd rather curl up in my house with a mug of tea and my plants rather than traipse across a rickety bridge.

The fact that Everstone was missing was enough. Most of the dwarves down in The Deep didn't know the details of my curse, but Yulla did. And Lilia, of course. They dragged me from my front stoop and deposited me on a chair at The Wet Beard, then shoved a tankard into my hands.

A bard was already at it, wailing a tune about an orcish woman's year-long quest through the mountains, searching for a hoard of gold. Along the way, she met all manner of folk: elves and pixies and even mountain trolls. At every stop, she collected a new companion until she had thirty others travelling with her. She never found that hoard of gold, but when she left the mountains, she felt she didn't need it anymore. She'd found something far more valuable. Kinship, a family of her choosing, a home.

By the end of the song, Lilia had a tear in her eye, which she brushed away before anyone but me saw it. When I caught her in the act, she gave me a wry smile. "Beautiful story, eh? I love a happy ending."

"You're such a hopeless romantic." I clinked my tankard against hers. "To happy endings." I inclined my head toward Ragnar, who'd gotten into an energetic conversation about knives with Balder, who didn't know the first thing about blades. Still, he seemed eager to be involved in a conversation that had nothing to do with ale.

Lilia tapped her drink against mine. "I hope you find yours."

I took a long gulp of the ale before answering. "That's less likely now that someone has stolen the Everstone."

I hadn't mentioned the dragon to her yet, though I would as soon as I could tug her away from the tavern. Out of everyone, Lilia would understand the most. She'd want to protect the dragon, too. And she might have some idea on how best to find one lurking in dwarven mines.

She cocked her head. "I'm not sure you need the Everstone to get your happy ending. You and Tormund seem to be getting along well."

Heat crept up my neck. "I don't hate him anymore, but that's as far as it goes."

"I don't think he hates you anymore, either," she said with a wink.

"Yes, non-hatred. That's a fantastic foundation for a relationship."

Shrugging, she gazed adoringly at her man. "Ragnar really annoyed me when I first met him. Well, that's not quite true. We hit it off, but then he tried to steal my business from me."

I arched a brow. "Your Travelling Tavern business?"

"That's right." Her tinkling laugh warmed me from head to toe. "But it turned out there was more to his story than I knew. He won me over in the end."

"Well, I know Tormund's story," I told her. "He already shared it."

"And did you share your story with him?"

"You know I can't do that. It was hard enough getting you to guess it."

"He seems clever. I'm sure you can lead him to the same realization I had. Oh!" Suddenly, she sat back and swung her behind me. There was only one reason she would look like that. Tormund had appeared. The heat in my cheeks flamed up a notch. Even though I doubted he'd overheard our conversation, I felt like I'd been caught red-handed. If he knew I'd been talking about him…and not in a negative way, either…he'd be absolutely bloomin' unbearable.

But I hadn't said anything embarrassing. All I'd admitted was that I didn't dislike him. That was hardly a declaration of interest. And I wasn't interested.

He grabbed a stool and sat beside me, the scent of leather and musk washing over me. Gods, he smelled good. I blinked and took a drag of my ale.

"Having a nice time?" he asked us.

"I always love an evening spent inside a tavern." Lilia lifted her tankard and waved it around. Her eyes were a little glassy. She was accustomed to drinking her ale, but Balder's brew was much stronger—eye-wateringly so at times. Hers was sweet and led to a buzzy, tipsy head. Balder's tended to get people drunk.

Tormund palmed the table and grinned. "Me, too. I'm going to request a song from the bard. Are there any in particular you'd like to hear?"

He directed the question at me, but I was so busy staring into my empty tankard that Lilia answered for me. "Oh, there's a great one about a mountain troll I haven't heard in months. Ask the bard if she knows it!"

"Is it upbeat?" he asked.

"Very."

"Good." Tormund stood and held out a hand. He angled it just enough that I couldn't miss it, his palm stuck over the rim of my tankard. "Would you like to dance, Astrid?"

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and braced myself. When I looked up at him, I suddenly forgot why I felt so on edge. I also couldn't remember why I'd found him so obnoxiously irritating when we'd first met. Because the heat in his eyes now tugged me to my feet. And as I followed after him, I felt like I was seeing him for who he really was—not the sauntering, smug bastard who'd rolled in here ready to steal the win from everyone else. Tormund was a man—a demon—who'd do anything for those he loved. And for that, I could not dislike him. Not even a little bit.

In fact, I liked that about him quite a lot.

And that was when I realized I was a little bit drunk but also a lot in trouble.

I liked Tormund. And he was pulling me onto the dance floor.