Fairguard was New Adderwood Republic’s southernmost settlement. It was a small, fully enclosed outpost, whose sole reason for existence, until recently, was the Copperstone Inn. Once the pinnacle of stately travel destinations, the inn’s high-end clientele had ranged from the top ranking members of court, to wealthy merchants, and anyone with a ludicrous amount of coin to spare. But, like the brightest burning stars, the momentum eventually fizzled out. New, faster coach roads gradually siphoned away the better paying crowds. After changing ownership more times than anyone cared to remember, the inn eventually became a haven for weary travelers looking for a cheap bed and a quiet place to drink.

Without steady income from travelers, the settlement fell into disarray. War changed that. The heads of the newly formed New Adderwood Republic seized Fairguard and resurrected it to its former glory, utilizing the Copperstone Inn as its temporary headquarters.

The reception area of the inn was pleasantly empty when Oralia entered. The usual mix of officers and civilian volunteers had left to greet the returning party at the front gates, no doubt. Oralia and her small personal company rode hard to arrive ahead of the main force. A small sum paid to the guards at the west gate ensured that her arrival would go unmarked for at least a little while. It wasn’t so much that she minded the cheering crowds, it was the expectation for her to drop everything for an emergency debriefing immediately after that bothered her. She had needs, after all. Attending another tedious meeting smelling fresher than a horse ranked high on the list–amongst other things.

Instead of taking the stairs, Oralia strode across the frayed olive carpet to the front service desk. She slapped a piece of silver onto the counter as she passed. “You saw nothing. I have not yet arrived.”

The unenthusiastic attendant was perched on his stool with his long nose stuck in a book. He was an elf of indeterminate age, with greasy, slicked-back hair and multiple piercings threaded through his ears and nostrils. While his attempt to encapsulate the nonconformist vibe was commendable, he would have looked rather ordinary next to her goblin soldier, Snaglebrag.

The real one. Not the stand-in.

The elf merely licked his fingertip and turned the page. “That’ll be two, please.”

“Two?”

“My fees have doubled in your absence.”

“On what grounds?”

“Command is growing concerned with the rate in which I don’t see you. They’ve scheduled an eye exam.”

With a click of her tusks, Oralia dug into her pocket and retrieved a second silver coin. Despite the urge to slam it with all of her might, she deposited it delicately onto the desk as though it was made of glass.

The attendant drew back the faded red curtain that obstructed the small doorway behind him, managing to do so without lifting his gaze from the page. “Blast. Once more, your highly anticipated arrival has slipped my notice, madam. My superiors will be most displeased.”

“Many thanks, Archibald.”

“You’ve got two hours before my vision miraculously recovers.”

Oralia traveled the dim staff corridor several twists and turns until it deposited her into the kitchen. The hazy air was balmy and so heavy with the scent of stewed cabbage, it nearly took her out at the knees. Ignoring the sudden lurch in her stomach, Oralia braced herself against the doorframe as she peered inside, searching for a familiar shape.

“It’s about damn time!” A plump, frizzy-haired human woman was leading the fight against that morning’s dishes near the sink well. She waved her scouring brush as if it were a sword in Oralia’s direction. “If you had delayed your return any longer, I would have had to put the poor wretch out of his misery myself. He nearly took off his thumb dicing the last of the onions this morning. And when I finally got him calmed down enough to stop shaking, he nearly did it again!”

A pitiful twinge dropped in her chest. The long hours and treacherous excursions had taken their toll on everyone, including those left behind. It normally took a few days of being back before Sascha’s nerves straightened themselves out again. “Thank you for looking out for him, Nuri. Do you know where I might find him? I assumed he would be here.”

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Nuri gestured over her shoulder with the soapy brush. “Out back taking a smoke break.”

Oralia started across the worn kitchen tile towards the delivery entrance. “Sascha does not smoke.”

“Well he does when you’re away! It’s his third one today.”

Oralia swung open the rickety wood thatch door and stepped out into the uneven cobblestone courtyard that butted up to the back of the inn. Her lover’s hulking frame stopped pacing when the door swung shut with a clatter. He swiveled his head in her direction and the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth softened. Oralia started to move in his direction, but there was no need. Grinding the cigarette stub under his heel, Sascha was across the uneven ground in three swift strides and pulling her into his arms.

The smell of tobacco smoke hung heavy on his clothes. It didn’t churn her stomach like the cabbage. It had the opposite reaction, in fact, and Oralia found herself craving more. Aside from the few times Ellisar had coaxed her into smoking with her–a substance which was most definitely not tobacco–Oralia had never saw the appeal. Gods, every day it felt like more and more of her old self was slipping.

She pressed into him, listening to the rampant drum of his heartbeat. “I came back in one piece, just like I promised.”

“Gods, I swore I wouldn’t cry.” Sascha’s deep voice cracked and he rested his chin against the top of her head as fat, salty tears rolled down his face and wetted her hair. “I heard about the ambush and the fighting and I was so worried. If anything happened to you, I’d–”

Oralia tilted her head so she could look up to him. Tears traveled along the deep worry lines etched across Sascha’s face like the marred channels of a weathered ravine. The wrinkles used to disappear by the day’s end, but as of late, they seemed to have taken up permanent residence. “I know you do not like it when I am delayed,” Oralia said, brushing a stray tear from his cheek with her thumb. “But I did send a letter.”

“Yes.” His tusks clicked against his upper teeth as some of the softness fled from his face. “We’re going to have to have a frank talk about that letter.”

A prickle shot up her spine and she stood straighter. “It was supposed to ease your fretting.”

“It said ‘Ran into trouble. Don’t worry. She’s going to be fine. Back home later than expected’. I don’t know who dictates your messages, but could you tell them to be a little more specific next time? I didn’t sleep the last three nights because I kept wondering what it was I wasn’t supposed to be worrying about!”

“You did not like it any better when I left Rali in charge of relaying the messages.”

“She was sending thinly veiled ransom notes!”

“To be fair, a case of garlic pickles and two bottles of rum was a very affordable ransom. And you paid so quickly, too.” A smile tugged at her mouth as Oralia rose onto her toes and kissed him. “For which I am forever grateful. I missed you.” The familiar scents of fresh mint and cloves engulfed her as her lips pressed against his. She tasted the smokey hint of tobacco and leaned into him harder, wanting more.

Sascha’s mouth was tight-lipped and unyielding. Although he still held her, his hands were locked tight, refusing to explore her body with their usual inquisitive touch. From his frigid demeanor, she suspected he was attempting to hold strong against her affection to prove a point. It probably wasn’t meant as a challenge, but Oralia accepted it as one anyway. She pulled his head closer, nipped his earlobe between her teeth, and growled.

“That’s not going to work, Moonflower,” he said. “Not this time.”

Her other hand, having threaded past the front of his apron and steadily working away at the clasp of his belt, hesitated. “Are you telling me to stop? Or was that an invitation to change your mind? I want to be one hundred percent certain before I rip your trousers down the front.”

An unexpected blush swept across his nose and cheeks. Snapping his teeth, Sascha groaned, “By the gods, woman. For days on end, you cause me nothing but anguish. And then the moment you return, after I’ve rearranged the same lecture in my head for the past week, getting every point perfect, you say something like that and I suddenly can’t recall a damn word of it!”

“A lecture? For me?” Her hand released his belt and went to her hip instead. “All of this because a letter was too vague for your liking? I have had the misfortune of hearing the love notes Ellisar writes to Ashwyn. And not by choice, either. She once insisted on reading one aloud to get my thoughts. It was seven pages of unadulterated smut. Is that what you would prefer? An overly detailed breakdown of every filthy act I intend to do to you upon my return?”

For a moment, he only stared. And then, at last, a sinister smile split across his tusked face. “Forget the lecture. That sounds like a far better solution. I’m so glad we were able to see eye to eye on this, Moonflower.”

Oh dear gods. What Oralia had thought would be a threat was suddenly becoming far more work than she intended to take on. “...I do not think I have the imagination to fill seven pages. How do you feel about a well structured paragraph? I could include bullet points, if necessary.”

With a laugh, Sascha nuzzled his face into her, planting soft kisses along her neck as his strong hands worked down the small of her back. “Seven pages, no less. But I could give you a little inspiration, if you think it would help.”