Ogsa scowled at him. “You’re already broke.”
Yurik flashed the orc woman a mischievous grin and cocked his head. “Now you’re hittin’ below the belt.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cheyenne cut in. “I’ll cover Ember’s drink.”
“Oh, yeah?” Ogsa studied her with a crooked smile. “She’s with you, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“And what does the Aranél want, huh?”
Cheyenne felt Yurik’s confused gaze settle on her. “I’ll just stick with the grog swill for now.”
“Huh.” Ogsa chuckled again. The rag she picked up from behind the bar was so dirty, it couldn’t have done more than spread the stickiness around as she wiped the slab of wood in front of her. “Okay. I’ll getcha what you want.”
“How much do I owe you for the two, then?”
“You? Nothin’, Aranél. Your drinks are covered.”
Cheyenne shot Yurik a sidelong glance, the corners of her mouth turning down in surprise. “My drinks are covered.”
The huge metal ring through the goblin’s septum flapped against his upper lip when he shook his head. “That’s bullshit.”
“And before you ask, goblin,” Ogsa said, turning halfway toward the shelves of unlabeled, multicolored O’gúleesh liquor bottles lining the wall behind her, “the answer’s no. She can’t just take over your tab, and she won’t be gettin’ half a dozen rounds for free so you and your buddies can go crazy in here at no charge.”
“Of course not.” Yurik chuckled and spread his arms. “That would be outrageous.”
The orc woman raised a thick eyebrow at him and grunted.
“Might as well add a glass of fellwine to my order, then,” Cheyenne added. When Yurik barked a laugh and Ogsa grinned around her tusks again, she added, “It’s my friend’s first time here.”
“Hey, if you can get that fae to drink fellwine, I’ll wipe this idiot’s tab clean and call it an even trade.” Chuckling, the orc woman turned to make the rest of their drinks.
“Well, now I’ve really got something to look forward to.” Yurik brushed off the front of his navy and neon-yellow striped sweater with an obnoxiously large collar and looked up at Cheyenne with a grin. “If we have to force that green shit down your friend’s throat, I’d be okay with it.”
The halfling snorted. “Good luck with that.”
With a quick glance over his shoulder at their table in the corner, Yurik cleared his throat and slid along the bar until his forearm almost touched Cheyenne’s. She eyed his arm and raised an eyebrow.
“Right. Sorry.” He sidestepped away from her but leaned toward her again to mutter, “What’s the deal with your friend, anyway?”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Yurik shrugged. “We came down here to pick your brain about the portals and whatever else got Sir’s panties in a bunch. Didn’t expect you to bring a friend.”
Cheyenne turned to face him squarely, leaning sideways against the bar. “I didn’t think I had to ask permission.”
“No, you don’t. I just wanna know how much we can trust her. You know, because of what we do for a living.”
“Right.” Cheyenne’s gaze flickered toward the table in the corner, where Ember talked animatedly with her hands while Tate chuckled and Bhandi nearly sprayed a mouthful of grog everywhere when she laughed. The halfling shot Yurik a crooked half-smile. “I’ll put it this way. I trust her a lot more than I trust the three of you.”
He snorted. “That’s not saying much.”
“Not really, no. But she wasn’t exaggerating when she said she’s heard all the stories.” Cheyenne nodded toward the table. “Ember knows who you guys are and what you do, and it looks like she doesn’t give a shit.”
“What about keepin’ what she knows to herself?”
“If she had a problem doing that, I’d be in a lot of trouble.”
Yurik laughed and tapped his knuckles on the bar. “I guess I’ll take your word for it.”
“You better. She needs this as much as I did the first time.”
“Huh. So, if some asshole decides to pick a fight with her this time, should I stay in my seat again and let her handle it?”
Cheyenne scoffed. “No. You’ll stay in your seat and let me handle it.”
“Deal.” The goblin drummed his hands on the bar as Ogsa returned with two tankards of grog, a copper cup of fizzing, green-glowing fellwine, and a shimmering silver drink letting off sparkling bursts from the top of what was supposed to look like a fancy crystal chalice.
“You tell your friend there’s plenty more where that came from if she wants it.” The orc woman slid the drinks across the bar.
“What is it?”
“You get a few perks around here, drow.” Ogsa nodded at the weird crystal chalice. “But getting your hands on my secret recipe ain’t one of ‘em.”
“Ogsa!” A hulking figure covered with a long black cloak and hood smacked a black-gloved hand on the bar. “I’ve been standing here for hours!”
The orc woman pounded a fist on the bar and pointed at the disgruntled patron. “Unless you and your two heads are payin’ double for every drink, Ogden, keep your forked tongues in your fell-damn mouths.” Then she walked down the bar toward him, ignoring everyone else until the next eager magical stole her attention.
Yurik nodded at the chalice of sparkling silver alcohol as he grabbed his tankard of grog and the copper cup of fellwine. “I’m not touchin’ that.”
“Sounds like someone’s scared of a little fae liquor.”
Turning away from the bar, the goblin glanced from the chalice in Cheyenne’s hand to her face and cocked his head. “Maybe. Good thing you’re not afraid of shit, right?”
He headed toward their table before she had a chance to reply.
I’m pretty sure that’s what got me into this FRoE-friend mess in the first place.
Cheyenne took a tentative sniff of the mystery drink and wrinkled her nose before walking after him.
Chapter Sixteen
“Here you go, Ember.” Yurik slid the fellwine across the table
