Page 95 of Sweetling
Her cousin hurried back to the bar to take more orders.
It took Molly only another moment to decide. Pushing up from the steps, she walked into the main room to a cheer. People called out her name in surprise and pleasure, some of the regulars coming up to pat her arms and wish her well.
Soon, the front door was thrown open. “Hey, Molly’s back!” someone shouted into the street, and more people, both regular patrons and curious neighbors, came to have a look.
Molly untied the too-big apron from Oona’s waist and instead tied it round her own. She caught Rory and Merry, too, and told them, “Go on up and read. I’ll take care of tonight.”
“But you don’t work here anymore,” Rory reminded her.
“I know. But I haven’t forgotten.” She pinched Rory’s nose, making the girl laugh.
She made sure all three had bowls of stew for their dinner before sending them up. Nora cut her unreadable glances, but Molly didn’t approach her again. The damage was done, and she’d have to show Nora she meant to help.
As night fell, more and more people filled the tavern. Every table and chair boasted an occupant, straining the old floorboards. Having more people venturing inside—and therefore more coins changing hands—perked Brom up, and by evening time, he was a jollier version of himself, shedding the gloomy frown for a toothy grin as he poured drinks.
Molly loaded trays with drinks and wove through the tavern delivering them. Her body remembered just what to do, years of practice lending her confidence in her gait and balance.
The familiar cadence of a busy tavern, of dropping off full tankards and picking up empties, of smiling for the patrons and flirting for tips, was easy to slip into. For a while, it didn’t feel like she’d been gone for months. For a while, she was the old Molly.
“It’s never this full anymore,” Nora remarked as they both stopped at the bar to hand over empty tankards. There wasn’t too much malice in her voice this time, but her mouth pursed when Molly slid a handful of tipped coins across the bar to her.
She glared at them a moment before grabbing them up to squirrel away in her pocket.
Nora hurried off before Molly could say anything.
Then there wasn’t time to say anything as more neighbors came with well-wishes. Between answering questions about her fae betrothed and his strange steed and taking orders, Molly hardly noticed the evening passing. Well, her feet started to notice, aching in that way they usually did by the end of the day.
And she was quickly reminded of thecharmsof working a tavern when a patron, already deep into his cups, stumbled, splashing Molly with ale. Her apron caught most of it, but a dark splotch bloomed across the red velvet near her hip.
Molly ground her back teeth, dabbing at the stain to reduce its spread, as the tavern tittered in amusement to see her fine gown besmirched. She was soon forgotten entirely when Brom led them in a rowdy rendition of a favorite shanty, and Molly was left to dodge more sloshing cups.
She was making her way carefully to the far side of the bar, watching her movements so carefully, that at first she didn’t hear how the noise suddenly fell. Not until she next looked up did she realize that Allarion stood at the threshold of the tavern, all eyes turned toward him.
His dark gaze ran over Molly slowly before turning to regard the others. He entered slowly, his cloak sweeping the floor behind him.
As he approached, Molly angled her tray to hide the stain.
“Molly, what do you do?” he asked, and although his voice was low, everyone in the tavern heard.
“Just…helping out for the night.”
A frown began to mar his brow, and his keen eyes shifted over her to lock onto the bar.
Molly laid her hand on his chest. “Let me just finish out the night.”
When he lowered his gaze to her again, Molly tried to convey what she could in a look; although, she feared all he saw was her embarrassment at being caught playing barmaid.
“As you will.” His acceptance came easily, but something about it had Molly’s insides twisting with an oily sort of guilt.
She made him comfortable at his usual table, and the tavern resumed its chatter around them, although it never regained its full fervor. Under Allarion’s cool gaze, everyone, including Molly, watched what they said and did.
Molly knew there’d be plenty of explaining to do soon enough.
21
Allarion entered the large front solar of Dundúran Castle with a frown on his face. He’d tried his best to smooth it on the walk over from the chamber he shared with Molly—it wouldn’t do to meet the princess looking so sour.
Yet, he couldn’t help it. He shouldn’t be attending the meeting alone.
