Chương 68: Chapter 22: Putting the Art in Heart

"You two were out late," Wynnie said, greeting us when we tumbled back in through the front door.

"Had a good time?"

"The best," Shivai said, practically humming. She was still hanging on possessively. Although she made it seem like it was purely for balance, I'd seen the way she deftly avoided rocks and potholes on the way back. Even several glasses of wine deep, she made cats look clumsy. In another life or another world, she could probably be a gymnast. Here, she was just a server. And a reformed thief, I guess. Wynnie ushered us over to a table, at which settings rested, waiting for us.

Centrally placed, a small bowl of cloudy punch and large ice cubes dared us with a good time. Next to it, a tray of sliced fish and the dipping sauce Wynnie made chilled on a bed of melting slush. A few thin, twiggy breadsticks stuck out from a cup to its side.

"I thought we'd finish the leftovers," Wynnie said.

"I tried making punch. It's not as good as yours, Drew, but the guests still drank it up. There's not much left."

"We don't need much. We already had a few glasses of wine," I assured her.

"I'm surprised you don't have more left over after closing the inn for everyone but our guests!"

"More merfolk arrived. The other merfolk made room for them." Wynnie shook her head, almost wide-eyed with disbelief.

"There must be more merfolk here than on the entire length of the Silver Coast!"

"They don't come around here often?" I asked.

"I've lived in a few bigger port cities, and I rarely see any," Shivai offered.

"The relationship between our kingdoms is… strained," Wynnie said.

"They try to avoid us when they can, but with bigger dangers on the seas, they make their way in sometimes. Our new guests were running out of fresh water, they said." I'd been wondering about that. The merfolk had larger feet and swimmer's bodies, and I'd seen the rippled flare of gills on their necks, which almost disappeared completely if you weren't looking for them. What little I knew of marine biology suggested those gills wouldn't be enough to provide all their oxygen indefinitely, however.

And they had no tails, unless you counted their unusually large feet. (I didn't.) From what I could tell, they were closer to seals and otters than actual fish, though—they couldn't live underwater indefinitely. So, apparently, fresh water was another need. For how unusual they may be around here, I suspected the other similarities between merfolk and humans—and elves, and maybe even demonkin, I guess—ran deep.

"I guess the heat wave really is a danger," I mused.

"Sure. They can get parched, and food is harder to come by. And there's the water thing," Wynnie said.

"But I think the real reason they came in was because of what one of them said?"

"Which was?" Wynnie leaned in close, as though there were anyone else in the dining room at all, and she were telling a deep, dark secret.

"I heard one of them speaking with Freya, that princess who keeps looking at our man." Wynnie used the word our so casually that I almost didn't register it. Shivai grinned, though.

"They were saying there's a black ship with black sails cruising the coastline." Dammit. I knew the pirates would be back sooner or later. My only hope was that it would be later. Unfortunately, later can stay later only for so long before it becomes sooner. It sounded like we were at that point. If only I'd done more to prepare, I thought. I'd been training with weapons, and Lady Talia and her deputies were on alert, but it felt like I'd squandered my time. Then again, we had a business to run.

I'd never had to juggle a real, immediate life with a vague, future threat. Maybe I hadn't done everything right, but I'd done my best every day. I could only hope that was enough. Wynnie reached over to an empty seat next to her. She produced Shivai's art supplies and laid them on a clear surface. I could see the demonkin's eyes glow with anticipation. Without hesitation, Shivai began unpacking charcoal pencils, parchments, inks, and more. She spread things out, filling up most of the free space on the table.

Meanwhile, Wynnie spooned dipping sauce onto our plates, then distributed miniscule portions of fish on top. The portions were meager, but her plating was excellent. It looked just like something you'd get from a Michelin-starred restaurant in exchange for at least a day's wages. Not wanting to be completely useless, I ladled out the leftover punch into our glasses. The rest of the bowl was mostly ice, but if anyone wanted a second glass, it was available. Or a third.

"I'm hoping we can pace ourselves tonight," Wynnie said as I finished filling Shivai's cup.

"Just enough to pair with the crudo and help you tap into your emotions. But not so much that you get drunk."

"I'd like to get drunk, maybe," Shivai said. She reached for her glass with her free hand while her other one traced the outline of her rune. Already, the blithe confidence of practice made the shape familiar and apparent in a way that it hadn't been the first night. Her quick practice in the woods had done the trick, it seemed. I reached for a sheet and a pencil as well. My efforts wouldn't be nearly as impressive, but that was fine. I didn't need to be great at something to enjoy doing it.

Soon, we were lost in fine dining and fine art. Or rather, Shivai was making fine art. My art was just… fine.

"More. I need more." Shivai's lithe, purple arms wrapped around the bowl and pulled it toward her. Despite the jerky motion with which she pulled the small container, no punch or ice sloshed out. If she were an RPG character, her agility score would've been maxed out, no question.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Remember, we're not getting drunk tonight. This was just to help you tap into your emotions," Wynnie added.

"I'm a succubus," Shivai reminded her.

"I don't need much help with that. Besides, I'm barely even tipsy anymore!" Only a watered-down glass or two of punch actually remained. Shivai had been drawing so intently that at times, she almost seemed to forget anything else around her existed at all. Every so often, she'd blink, taking us and the setting in, savor a few greedy sips, and dive back in with renewed abandon. A sensuous, fluid grace punctuated every movement.

She held herself like a dancer, finding a tune that eluded me and Wynnie, but kept her swaying slightly like a viper ready to strike. Her tail snaked loosely behind her with a mind of its own. Every so often, it curled around some part of me—my legs, my waist, over my shoulder—but it never stayed long. The inn was as quiet and dead as the seas outside. We couldn't hear the usual distant roar of breaking waves. The winds had left, forsaking the silver coast.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. It was getting close to midnight or thereabouts, and it still felt like it was nearly a hundred degrees out. The single flickering lamplight on our table bathed everything in a dull orange, which only added to the feeling of things being too damn hot.

"You don't need to be tipsy to feel. Succubus, remember?" Wynnie said.

"It's mostly water at this point anyway," I pointed out.

"Come on. One more drink. It's for the glyph, I swear." Shivai grabbed the ladle, holding it delicately in her hand as if it were a master's paintbrush.

"Gonna tap so deep into these emotions. Paint a perfect glyph tonight. Just you wait and see."

"And why do you need to do that tonight?" I asked again.

"Cuz… cuz I want to impress you. And make you think I'm special." Her cheeks darkened and she ducked her head.

"Besides, if the rune works, it'll keep everything cool in the room. I don't wanna boil to death in my sheets." Wynnie coughed.

"Easy fix. Just don't use sheets."

"I already sleep nude. Do you want me to just bare it all?" Wynnie didn't say anything, to my surprise. Instead, she offered a little shrug. Shivai barely registered it. She slowly filled her ladle without letting any ice in.

"Come on. One more drink. Won't hurt." I didn't see the harm in it. A tipsy Shivai wasn't going to suddenly act any different from a sober one. Either way, she'd be a lot to handle. And if it meant achieving the perfect glyph, then one more drink sounded like the solid play. Yet Wynnie laid down the law.

"No." She stayed Shivai's hand gently, but firmly.

"I need you to stay sharp tonight. No arguments. That's final." The demonkin stared at Wynnie's hand covering her own. She sucked in a breath. Had she any arguments, they must have died in her throat right then. Probably, she remembered that Lady Talia wanted to throw her out of town. Having a job at the Breakwater Inn was part of her attempt to stay on the up and up. And since Wynnie was the boss, she had all the leverage in the world. Probably.

Yet Shivai, almost bratty at first, obeyed Wynnie's command so quickly.

"Yes, Wynnie. Whatever you say," she murmured. Her death grip on the ladle released. Wynnie moved the bowl out of reach as I tried to console Shivai.

"It's probably for the best. If you're sober, your hands will have better control." I might've been right, actually. The fluidity with which she moved was still astounding. The semicircle she traced had an air of confidence to it that it didn't have the first night. All the odd, decorative frills she painted over it felt somehow… right. Like they were supposed to be there. Like they'd always been there. I could never be in the presence of greatness without attempting it myself.

It was like watching a good basketball game. If a hoop was nearby, you could be sure I'd be taking free throws and practicing layups during halftime. Maybe I couldn't dunk anymore like in high school, but I could still miss a three with the best of them. My point is, I stopped working on the clunky rune in front of me and grabbed a new parchment. I got about halfway through the first main shape, sketching out a big block letter C. Renewed determination steadied my hand. At first, I just tried copying her.

But then, as my arm moved, I felt the flow of light, tingling feelings coursing through me. I focused on that tingle, doing my best to trace its pathways throughout my body, searching timidly for its origin. As I looked for it, I closed my eyes, focusing on the shape of something indefinable within. As I did, I thought about Wynnie, and the pathways grew clearer. Romantic, not entirely chaste feelings and images danced in my head, guiding my heart and hand alike. Then, I thought about Shivai.

Once more, comfortable, barely safe-for-work thoughts sprang forth in… surprisingly creative expressions. Every scintillating mote of mana became more tangible. Yet for all the clarity I felt coursing through me, I still felt lost. No core of power revealed itself. The direction of each pencil stroke, though more certain than before, still felt imperfect. Suddenly, Lady Talia popped into my head. And she wasn't wearing armor. Her lips parted as though ready to share a secret. My grip on the pencil loosened.

Course corrected. There, somewhere amorphous, was a sparkling, warm, fuzzy core of power. My eyes flew open, shocked by the small nugget of mana I found. It wasn't physical, I knew. It didn't have a real size or shape. Yet nevertheless, it was there. On the page in front of me, the symbol I'd been drawing looked… mostly the same, actually. One of the lines might've been scratched straighter. A corner, more softly etched. I pondered the result, checking my work against Shivai's.

Hers was definitely different, and her gaze remained steadily focused on her own rune. How had mine diverged so far from hers? Maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe I hadn't just tapped into my mana. But I had to find out.

"Uh. I think I did something," I said.

"What do you mean?" Wynnie asked.

"The rune. I think this might be it." I looked down once more at the shape. It wasn't the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Scratch marks scarred over some of my original lines, yet it felt more accurate. Not correct, but right.

"Want to give it a go, Wynnie?" She regarded my result skeptically.

"Are you sure?"

"No."

"It doesn't look quite like, erm, what I'd expect." It didn't. I might've added a third bar through the C, actually. At the moment of drawing it, I hadn't registered its addition, too engrossed in my process. Yet there it was. Meanwhile, next to me, Shivai had finished her charcoal outline and had begun painting with careful abandon. She was all controlled chaos. Well, controlled chaos and rather obvious groping. She'd wedged up next to me, rubbing her bare, sweaty thigh against mine.

Her tail whipped all around me, exploring my leg with the desperation of a confused octopus tentacle trying to escape an aquarium. Her hand kept drifting to my knee, then sliding up. Wynnie caught the action, one amused eyebrow arched. I shot her an, Are you okay with this? glance. She merely shrugged and smiled, as if shooting the question right back to me. I… was very okay with it.

It sent a thrill through me, traveling throughout my length and throughout my body, reigniting the tingle I'd felt when trying to feel my mana. Shivai could probably tell how much I was appreciating her exploration as I swelled under her questing fingertips. Maybe it was part of her emotional artistic process. She added a little flourish with her brush and then say back like a woman who needed a cigarette. She breathed heavily, curling her tail around my waist and feathering into my crotch.

A slight smile danced on Wynnie's lips, watching it all happen. Slowly, she stood. Her prodigious bust rubbed against my cheek as she reached to gather both of our drawn glyphs. Her clean, earthy scent only made me stiffen further. No doubt Shivai felt that, too. Wynnie arranged our runes in front of her.

"All right, then. Let's see about the results, shall we?" She closed her eyes, concentrating. A shimmer of electric blue swirled around her fingers, sparkles of frost forming in the air from the muggy humidity. She pressed her splayed hands on my glyph first. My glyph lit up a dull, plasma blue. The outline of the rune I'd inscribed turned almost bright, while the insides remained more muted. After a few seconds, Wynnie removed her hands.

Slowly, the light faded away, like a glow stick the morning after the party ends.

"That was at least ten seconds," I said, surprised.

"You got better! I'm impressed!" Wynnie said.

"I didn't even think it was going to work with that extra line!"

"Gods, it was actually hot watching that glow. You definitely cracked 20 seconds. Maybe more," Shivai said.

"I think it's still going, kind of! Who were you thinking about?"

"Wynnie. And you," I added.

"Aw, you sweetheart," Shivai said. But Wynnie eyed me curiously.

"Just us? There wasn't, um, anything there to inspire a third bar?" I coughed.

"I let my imagination run," I admitted. The specifics of Lady Talia's cameo could wait, I figured.

"Very interesting." Wynnie just nodded, then turned her attention on Shivai's rendition.

"Now then, shall we give it a whirl?" I wasn't sure I was ready to answer. Besides, it seemed pretty obvious by that point that I'd been thinking about Wynnie and Shivai, sometimes simultaneously. It was just that the topic of Lady Talia's appearances had better wait. As the final light of my rune sputtered and died, she repeated the process with Shivai's. I'd been proud of what I accomplished, but it was nothing compared to what the demonkin had just done.

As soon as Wynnie's frosty fingertips touched down on Shivai's parchment, her rune illuminated a dazzling, multidimensional blue. It looked ready to leap off the page, crackling and vibrant with barely restrained power.

"Holy heckin' jeepers." Wynnie nearly jumped back in her seat.

"That's a dang incredible rune!" Shivai sat back and folded her arms across her chest with smug satisfaction. She ran her forked tongue over her sharp canines and looked hungrily at me.

"I really tapped into my passion. As deep as I could go." She looked up meaningfully at Wynnie.

"I think it could get stronger." Wynnie was still looking at the glyph, speechless. After a few seconds, she collected herself.

"This is incredible," she murmured.

"I was thinking about Drew."

"Just Drew?" Shivai's cheeks bloomed a shadowy purple.

"Just Drew. Mostly." My heart started to sink, but the demonkin pressed on.

"Drew was the only man, and the star of the show. But, um." She bit her lip and looked up at Wynnie, searching for something. A few beats passed. Then, when Shivai didn't break her increasingly intense gaze, Wynnie blushed, too.

"Oh! Ohhh. Oh," said the elf. Her cheeks rouged as well, and she looked at me.

"Your emotions might run deeper than I thought. And, um, wider, too. I think this could actually work. What do you think, Drew? Should we take this to the bedroom?" The buzz of anticipation raced through me, and my throat tightened.

"To test out the rune?"

"Sure. That too."