Ember glanced into the cup in front of her, then sat back in her wheelchair and smirked up at the goblin. “Let me guess. You’re gonna tell me fellwine goes down best when it’s knocked back in one go, right?”
The amusement faded from Yurik’s face, and he looked between the fae and the copper cup. “Shit.”
“Did I tell you about that?” Cheyenne took the empty chair beside Ember and set both drinks on the table.
“Maybe. But I’ve seen a few shots of that stuff start a riot at family reunions.” The fae shook her head and laughed. “I know better.”
Tate chuckled into his tankard.
“Come on.” Yurik gestured toward the fellwine. “Just a little sip, then, huh?”
“Not my thing.”
He glanced at the bar and leaned over the table, lowering his voice. “If you drink that, Ogsa’s gonna wipe out my tab. I’d owe you one for sure.”
“Well, then she knows what she’s talking about.” Ember chuckled. “Sorry.”
“Gonna drink that? Right on.” Bhandi across the table and snatched up the copper cup. She lifted her tankard in the other hand, guzzled half of it, and poured the fellwine in with the rest of her grog before lifting her tankard for a toast. “To the fae. Not as naïve as she looks.”
“For real? There wasn’t a time limit on getting her to drink the stuff.” Yurik stared at the troll woman, and no one else raised a glass to join in on the toast.
“Right. Like you had any chance of Ogsa knocking out what you owe her.” Bhandi took a long sip of her fellwine bomb, practically slammed the tankard down on the table, and shook her head with a whoop of surprise. Her scarlet braids flew in every direction. “Holy shit! I just invented the magical Irish Car Bomb.”
Cheyenne and Ember exchanged amused glances. At least Bhandi never had to deal with real car bombs. I can keep that to myself.
Tate leaned forward in his chair, chuckling. “There’s no way you’re the first magical to mix suicide in a tankard.”
“I don’t care what anyone else did with it.” Bhandi took another swig and grimaced, clenching her eyes shut. “But damn. I think I’ve got a new favorite.”
Yurik snorted. “I’m not paying for your pitchers of grog and more fellwine than anyone should drink in one night.”
“Well, you’re not paying for anything, are you? Not yet.”
“You’ve lost your damn mind, haven’t you?”
Bhandi pointed at the muscular goblin and opened her mouth to reply, then took another gulp of fellwine-grog before sucking in a sharp breath. “You’ve known that since the first time we geared up and shipped out on assignment. Don’t pretend you’re surprised now.”
“No, I’m just surprised you’re still breathing.”
“Ha!” The troll woman slammed both fists on the table and leaned forward, leering at her fellow agent. “This troll doesn’t go down that easily. We’ve all been through some shit, man. If that hasn’t killed us by now, a Fellwine Car Bomb sure as shit isn’t gonna do the job.”
“Yep.” Tate shifted in his chair and lifted his tankard for another toast. “Here’s to going through shit and not dying.”
“I guess that’s good enough.” Yurik lifted his tankard, waiting for Bhandi to finish glugging down more of her O’gúleesh concoction.
“Hell, I can drink to that.” Cheyenne lifted her frothing tankard, and the FRoE agents laughed.
“Yeah, Goth drow’s seen the ugly side of the coin enough times too,” Bhandi shouted, leaning toward the halfling with a wry smile.
Ember picked up her chalice of fae-inspired whatever and clinked it lightly against the raised tankards over the center of the table. “To not dying.”
All cups were lowered and tapped on the table before the magicals raised their drinks to their lips and finished the toast. Bhandi downed the rest of hers, belched again, and emptied the pitcher into her tankard before pouring from the other. “And how’d you almost die, fae girl?”
Tate slapped his palm to his forehead.
“What? Honest question. She’s the only one I haven’t seen in action.”
Ember took another sip of her glowing silver drink, smiling at the warm rush of magical alcohol blooming quickly in her cheeks. “I wouldn’t call it being in action, necessarily.” When she glanced at Cheyenne, the half-drow raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “I was shot in the spinal cord.”
This time, Bhandi did spray her next mouthful of grog and fellwine all over the place, but she had the presence of mind to duck away from the table and aim it at the already sticky floor of the tavern. The patrons sitting closest to their corner table eyed the troll woman in disgust. She ignored them and wiped her dripping chin with the back of a hand as she sat up again and stared at Ember. “Shit.”
“Something like that, yeah.” The fae smirked over the rim of the chalice as she drank again.
“Well, you look good for taking a bullet in the back,” Yurik added with a shrug.
“More like through the back. The asshole shot me here.” Ember gently touched her lower abdomen. “And now I’m in this chair. Temporarily.”
Tate let out a low whistle. “If you’re still runnin’ around with Cheyenne after something like that, man, I have no doubt you’ll be back on your feet. I heard fae are pretty good at that.”
“What happened to the other guy?” Yurik asked.
Ember smiled at Cheyenne, the pink glow around her body pulsing with the magical booze in her system. “Cheyenne paid him a visit.”
“Fuck.” Bhandi’s eyes widened, and she glanced around the table to meet her fellow operatives’ gazes. “I’m pretty sure we all know what that means.”
Cheyenne forced herself not to say anything and smiled grimly instead. I didn’t get to tell her what really happened with Durg
