Page 26 of Grin and Bear It

“Thank you... I think,” Thora replied cautiously.

“And sabertooth tigers are known for their hunting prowess and protective instincts,” Eira continued as if Thora hadn’t spoken. “Excellent qualities for the Maxen line.”

Thora’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not here for your family line. I’m here because your grandson mistakenly handcuffed us together with malfunctioning magic.”

“Fate works in mysterious ways, dear.” A knowing smile curved Eira’s lips. “Come, dinner’s ready.”

They moved to a long wooden table laden with food: a whole roasted salmon, crusty bread dripping with honey, roasted vegetables, and what appeared to be some kind of spiced mead in crystal decanters.

Bryn enthusiastically pulled Thora to sit beside her, while Artair took the seat opposite. Jash settled nearby, still casting admiring glances at Thora, and Eira positioned herself at the head of the table.

“Eat,” Eira commanded, and everyone reached for the serving platters.

As Thora helped herself to salmon, she caught Bryn and Eira exchanging significant looks. Suspicion prickled along her spine. This wasn’t just a family meal—it was an evaluation.

“So, Thora,” Eira began once everyone had filled their plates, “what do you think of our little town?”

“It’s... picturesque,” Thora replied diplomatically.

“And how are you finding your time with my grandson?” Eira’s eyes flicked meaningfully to the tether connecting them.

“Enlightening.” Thora took a deliberate bite of salmon to avoid elaborating.

“Mmm.” Eira nodded as if Thora had given a much longer answer. “And what are your feelings on reproduction? Specifically cross-species cub potential?”

Thora choked on her food. Beside her, Bryn snickered into her napkin.

“Grandma!” Artair’s face had turned an impressive shade of red. “That’s completely inappropriate.”

“Nonsense. It’s a practical consideration.” Eira waved off his objection with elegant fingers adorned with a single silver ring. “Bear-sabertooth genetics are rare but not unheard of. The Lockwood family three towns over had a successful match two generations back. The cubs had remarkable tracking abilities combined with bear strength. Quite extraordinary.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Thora took a large gulp of mead to clear her throat. The drink burned pleasantly going down, warming her from the inside with hints of cinnamon and cloves.

“Mrs. Maxen—Eira—I think you’ve misunderstood.” She gestured between herself and Artair with her fork. “This is a magical mishap, not a relationship.”

“Magic rarely makes mistakes, dear,” Eira replied serenely. “The old powers have ways of bringing together those who need each other.”

“I don’t need—” Thora began.

“The salmon is excellent, Grandma,” Artair interrupted, clearly desperate to change the subject. “Did you use the cedar plank method?”

“Don’t try to distract me, Artair,” Eira said, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’ve waited eighty-seven years to see you properly mated. I’m not wasting this opportunity.”

“We’re not mating!” Thora and Artair exclaimed simultaneously.

Bryn nearly spat out her mead. “Jinx,” she whispered to Thora.

“And yet, you speak in unison already,” Eira observed with satisfaction. “The bond forms quickly.”

Thora groaned. “There is no bond. There’s a magical mishap that will be fixed as soon as possible.”

“Sometimes what we consider mishaps are actually course corrections from the universe,” Eira replied with the calm certainty of someone who had seen enough of life to believe in greater powers. “Now, about your family lineage?—”

“Orphanage,” Thora cut in. “No known family. No lineage to speak of.”

Something softened in Eira’s expression. “I see. That explains much about your independence.” She reached for her mead. “Even more reason to find your place among a strong clan.”

---