Page 14 of Tusk Love

As the sun reached its noontime zenith and people began slinking out of the warehouses and taverns for lunch, Guinevere gradually became aware that she was drawing quite the crowd. They followed her from one stall to the next, whispering excitedly among themselves. She supposed that it was to be expected, as she was a new face in the Dustbellows, but after a while she realized that the attention was evenly divided between her and her two companions.

“You and the Butcher are errand boys now, Warwick?” someone called out while Guinevere was purchasing foodstuff.

Warwick brandished his hook hand at the speaker. “You shut your trap or I’ll gut you, and no mistake!”

The crowd tittered uneasily. It was made up mostly of people who were as rough-looking as Jimmybutcher and Warwick. Guinevere could tell that the peddlers were getting nervous—and so was she, come to think of it, but she tried not to let it show.

“Where’s the girl from, Jimmybutcher?” someone else asked.

“How should I know?” The elf’s drawl belied the tension that rippled fleetingly through his lanky frame. “Don’t come any closer. Give her space.”

The question was harmless enough, though, so Guinevere tossed a polite smile over her shoulder, in the general direction it had come from. “I’m from Rexxentrum, good sirs and madams.”

The crowd immediately devolved into angry muttering. Shaking her head in bewilderment, Guinevere drifted to the next stall and requested several packets of jerky and dried fruit from the peddler, a smooth-faced boy around her age.

He shot her a bashful grin. “I’ll give you the lot in exchange for a lock of your pretty hair, miss.”

“My hair?” Guinevere blinked, surprised. “I’m, ah—”

“Insolent scoundrel!” Warwick banged his hook against the countertop. “Apologize to the lady!”

Before the poor boy could reply, a new voice belligerently rose up from the sea of spectators. “WhatIwant to know is why our gang leaders are playing bag boys for some rich capital nob!”

Gang leaders?

Guinevere whirled around in dismay. Jimmybutcher and Warwick were lumbering toward the crowd, baring their teeth. The effect would have been more threatening if they hadn’t been loaded down with shopping bags, which was probably the reason only a few people inched away.

“Don’t you go telling me what I should and shouldn’t do!” roared Warwick. “She might be a nob, but she’s undermyprotection!”

“Mine, too,” Jimmybutcher said quickly.

Warwick scoffed. “What do you know about protecting anyone? Your knife’s still wet from when you stabbed me—”

“He stabbed you?” several voices chorused.

And, just like that, the crowd separated into two distinct groups, and weapons were drawn.

Every peddler in the vicinity dove for cover behind their stalls while their customers ran away. The air crackled with malevolence, knives and clubs and dwarven-made axes gleaming in the sunlight.

Guinevere would normally have run away as well. It was the sensible course of action. Yet she understood that this was all her fault, and she had to put a stop to it.

Quickly, before she could change her mind, she wedged herself between the two armed factions. “There’s no need for this,” she quavered. “I’m sure we can discuss it like reasonable—”

“Guinevere!”

Her name rang through the marketplace like a clap of thunder. And then people started—

—flying?

She stood on tiptoe for a better look, to make sense of why the world was suddenly all grunts and yelps and bodies being flung off their feet.

It was Oskar, shouldering his way through the throng, shoving people aside like they were mere gnats, not caring one whit about the weapons they wielded. His narrowed eyes gleamed like fiery suns in miniature, his sleep-tousled hair all wild black waves. He reminded Guinevere of a lion, padding toward her with lethal grace. Her stomach went…swimmy.

The crowd had made themselves scarce by the time he reached her. He shot a dark glare at Jimmybutcher and Warwick. “Get lost,” he snapped.

“She with you, Oskar?” Jimmybutcher asked.

Oskar’s hands clenched into fists. “That’s not getting lost.”

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