Page 87 of Lady Knight and the Thief

After her last visit to A’aravos Paravale, though, Cypress was hesitant to let a single drop of anything even vaguely wine-shaped to touch her lips.

The thought lingered for a moment, then another before Cypress squared up to the hesitation.

If Cypress could abandon an entire kind of drink over a single—well, not truly bad—experience, what business did she have helping Torren steal from Caelith when her own neck was at stake?

Cypress straightened her spine and strode through the crowd. With a graceful smile on her lips, she slipped through the Fair Folk mingling and watching dancers in the center of the room.

She found the staff pouring drinks into the fine crystal stemware by following the servants carrying empty trays back to their source.

The bar was polished to a mirror finish. Stemware stood neatly arranged on new trays, ready to be delivered. Several bartenders worked in tandem behind it.

A fine boned Fair Folk greeted Cypress with a “My Lady, what can I do for you?”

They had muted, dusty-lavender skin, a mop of white hair, antennae erupting between the strands, and nearly lime-green wings tucked behind their back.

“It’s just Cypress, if you please,” She said first, giving the Fair Folk a small nod of her head and the bend of her knee. “Can I have wine? Normal wine,definitely notPixie Wine, please?”

They said, “Of course, Miss. Just a moment,” then grabbed a fresh glass, and turned to one of the large wooden barrels behind the bar. The one they poured from had a relief of a Paradise Plum burned into the wood above the spout.

“What’s the matter with Pixie Wine, Lassie?” Someone asked from her side, and internally, Cypress was already cringing.

“Let’s just say I’d rather avoid that embarrassment tonight,” she replied, not looking over.

The stranger threw his head back and roared with laughter, drawing looks from several people around them.

Cypress sighed. Another one. There was another one who thought her barely humorous remarks were entirely too funny.

“Problem?” she asked and leaned on her elbow, the glass of Paradise Plum wine now in hand.

Cypress hadn’t even seen the Fair Folk drop the glass off, but there it was, and she instinctively knew it was what she requested.

“No problem, can’t a man laugh?” He asked, head propped on his fist. His silver hair was messily braided back against his scalp, and a beard in a similar color was sculpted into a point on his chin.

Cypress rolled her eyes. “Laugh all you like,” she said and raised her glass to him as she turned and left the bar.

Maybe she didn’t want to find company at all.

And anyway, Cypress supposed it was time to eat, and then she could disappear into a luxurious, soft bed until middayat leasttomorrow.

Decision made, Cypress moved through the tables to the same one she’d eaten at before. Thankfully, the five-pointed leaf lying next to a setting told her she was in the right place.

However, she had to grit her teeth in annoyance when she read theentirename card.

Cypress Ilirona

Duchess of Eobbaara,

The Soul Reach.

Instead of ripping the leaf to shreds like her fist impulse demanded, Cypress merely placed her wine on top of the leaf and sat at the table.

Only then did she notice that Torren was already seated at the ornate chair with antlers growing from behind his head. He grinned at her with the sort of smirk that she now knew to mean only mischief.

“Duchess,” He greeted, fingers laced under his chin.

“Thief,” Cypress retorted and leaned back in her chair as if she didn’t have a single care in the world.

Torren’s storm-grey eyes sparkled with delight.