Elies thought he had enough of the tavern after the previous night, but like many of his declarations, that was a lie. It was the story of his life—shaking off his drunken stupor just to lose himself in it all over again. To think he almost hadn’t; hopefully, he could thank that cat-eyed bard one day.

He giggled like a maiden as he stumbled back to his cabin, his favorite wench clutching his arm. Ilta was her name; she was raven-haired, her locks stopping just short of her shoulders. Her eyes were the color of amethysts, and she wore a perennial scowl.

“I do hope you visit me again,” she said, a smile faintly lifting the corners of her black-painted lips.

“You don’t have to hope,” Elies said.

Ilta sighed. “I know. You’ll never stop wasting your orbs on me.”

Elies pulled away from her, his face practically bursting into flames. “I-it’s not a waste!” he argued. “I’m just buttering you up for—”

“Marriage, I know.” A ghost of a smile spread across her lips. “You have to outdrink me first, remember? Until then, your orbs are a waste.”

“You could be less blunt, you know?” Elies groaned. She merely snorted and shrugged her shoulders at him.

Ilta stood at the bottom of Elies’ steps as she bid him farewell, rolling her eyes at him when he thanked her for helping him home.

“Y’know…” Elies rubbed the back of his neck. “Our time together doesn’t have to end just yet…”

Ilta’s face turned stale. “No,” she said dryly. “It’d be a waste of time to indulge you anymore.”

Sticking a hand in her pocket, Ilta strutted down the street, smoke rising from the cigarette she had just lit.

Elies sucked his teeth and stared after her, her violet bathrobe fluttering in the wind like an insect’s wings. “Tease.”

Several seconds passed, and his thoughts of Ilta died down. Instead of fantasizing about courtship, Elies found himself hanging over his porch’s railing, launching green vomit onto the snow.

Great, he thought, wiping his lips. There goes my euphoria.

After spewing out enough chunks to fill three whole kegs, Elies wiped the sweat from his brow. He rubbed his temples and slowly raised his head, sneering when he saw Yarrow creeping up the road.

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He’s coming this way, isn’t he? Elies asked himself. He cursed and squeezed the ice-encrusted railing, looking away when Yarrow stopped below him.

The old man didn’t have to crane his neck to meet Elies’ gaze. He flashed him an amused smile. “It’s still morn’. Shouldn’t you be drinking your orbs down the drain?”

Elies glared at him. “I just finished!” He retched, clasping his hands over his mouth.

Yarrow chuckled. “You had help,” he declared. “Otherwise, you’d be sicker than that. Was it that girl again?”

Elies spewed another fountain of vomit from the railing. “You know the answer to that,” he moaned.

The old man shook his head. “She’s a demon, you know. She’ll drain you dry if you let her.”

“I’ll wear her down,” Elies argued.

Yarrow clicked his tongue. “You sound like your brother.”

“Tch! I thought you had enough of me!” Elies said, eager to change the subject.

“Enough?” Yarrow snorted. “I’m afraid you’ll be of use to me for the next two days.”

Elies raised an eyebrow. Another job, after all?

The old man leaned his staff against the railing before he grasped onto it, the sight of his bear claw of a hand next to his own making Elies gasp. He’d almost forgotten how sizable Yarrow was.

“Your brother,” Yarrow began. “Whether he slays this beast or not, he isn’t ready to accompany me.”

“Yet you gave him a chance?” Elies asked.

“Mm.” Yarrow furrowed his brow. “Ayko is headstrong. His type has to learn the hard way, in this case, by having his hopes crushed.”

Elies’ eyes darkened, and he glanced at the ground. “You want me to crush his hopes…” His chest clenched at the proposed betrayal.

Yarrow gave a single nod. “Whether he understands or not, it’s for his own well-being. The half-elf, too.”

Elies clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on the railing. His airhead of a brother actually convinced her to leave? A girl neither of them had seen fight once? Did she have a death wish?

“Hazelmere is weak-willed enough,” Yarrow continued. “I imagine she’ll fold if Ayko does.”

Elies gulped. A bead of sweat dripped down his face. “Do you understand what you’re asking?” His voice turned to a whisper. “They’ll never forgive me.”

Yarrow nodded again, briefly shutting his eyes. “Would you rather them dead? If not for me, do it for yourself.”

Elies shut his eyes and huffed, frost streaming from his flaring nostrils. “I can’t say I agree with your proposal. But I agree that Ayko needs to be stopped.” He opened his eyes. “I’ll dash his hopes for his sake. Not mine or yours.”

Yarrow didn’t smile or nod. “Splendid.” He clutched his staff and stepped away. “Of course, it won’t be easy. They’ll put up a fight, and I don’t expect you to best Ayko and Haze on your own.” He shook his head. “No, you need a teacher.”

Elies curled up his nose. “You?” He sneered.

Yarrow erupted with laughter and flashed Elies a predatory grin. “Who else? I’ve got two days to season you up! Apprentice!”