Page 43 of Tusks, Tails & Teacakes
Lira shook her head, but it was to agree. Malek might not have been her favorite in the crew, but they’d worked together long enough that she’d felt his loss keenly.
“You weren’t the only one to leave,” Cali said, a flicker of something crossing her face and making her pointed ears twitch. “Vaskel followed right after you.”
Lira wouldn’t be surprised if the Tiefling had felt guilt over losing Malek, blaming himself for not being able to sense the danger before it was too late.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Lira said, allowing her attention to drift to the small gathering around the scones and chai at the bar. It struck her as odd that such a deep sense of satisfaction could be swept away with a reminder ofher past.
“It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
Cali’s tone was sharp, and Lira’s gaze snapped back to her.
“Malek knew what he was doing when he cast that spell. It was dangerous and risky. We’d all warned him for years not to dabble in dark magic.”
Lira let loose a sharp laugh. “Malek was not one to be convinced of anything.”
Cali’s own chuckle was without mirth. “No, he wasn’t.” She put a paw on Lira’s arm. “Which is why you can’t blame yourself.”
Lira frowned. “But I had him, Cal.” She opened and closed her hand as if she could still see the scrap of Malek’s cape as it tore from her fingers. “I had him, but I couldn’t hold him.”
A half-purr, half-growl rumbled from the feline’s chest. “The spell had already rebounded on him by the time you got there. There was no saving him, Lira.”
Lira’s eyes fluttered closed as she fought to purge the memories of Malek’s face, his shock, his horror as he’d slipped from her grasp and hurtled into the vengeful sea. Then she remembered the web of veins glowing black as they’d crawled up his arms and neck, the infernal magic consuming him with such potent power that he’d been unable to stop his inevitable plummet off the cliff.
Cali was right. He wouldn’t have lived even if he’d survived. Not as he’d been before, at the very least. The dark magic they’d begged him not to dabble in would have contorted him into a creature none of them would have recognized.
When Lira opened her eyes again, it was to see Cali with her ears flattened and Korl standing beside them. He held a mug of chai and a partially decimated scone, crumbs clinging to his dusky green chin.
“You okay?” His question was directed at Lira, even though he barely met her gaze.
Cali flicked her amber gaze from her to the orc, the hairs on her slender arms rising.
“Fine,” Lira said. “This is Cali, we used to run together. She’s the best archer you’ll ever meet.”
“Caliqua.” Cali extended one paw. “But if you’re a friend of Lira’s, which I’m guessing you are, you can call me Cali.”
Korl took the paw gently in his massive hand and gave it a gentle shake. “Korl. Her gran used to make scones like this.”
Cali eyed the remains of the scone in Korl’s hand but didn’t comment on the non-sequitur. “I’ve heard about this gran, but not about the scones.”
“I told you she taught me to bake.”
Cali shrugged. “You never mentioned specifics or that scones smelled so good.” She sucked in a greedy breath. “I could smell them all the way outside the village.”
Lira scoffed. “That’s because you have a highly attuned sense of smell.”
“Perhaps, but I would recognize the scent of that chai anywhere.”
Lira grinned at the memory. “Because you were with me when we discovered it.”
Cali nudged her knee with her own. “That amazing elven cafe with the hanging lanterns and cushions on the floor.”
Korl scrunched his nose at this.
“You had to see it,” Lira assured him. “The cushions were enormous and everyone sat on the floor drinking chai.”
Korl grunted, and Lira suspected that lolling about on the floor might not be his style.
“I’ll get you some chai.” Lira started to stand.
