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“You’ve added another favor on your tab,” Czeha says, “and I’m not one to go into the negatives—I owe you.” “Oh no,” I say as I lift my hands and wave them modestly, “not at all. I really am happy to help.” “Stopping a mage from wrecking the tavern, cleaning up after a fight, and heck—you didn’t even get to drink that whiskey of yours, did you?” “I suspect it might be on the floor by now.” I shrug playfully. “A shame, after such a great show pouring it. Although,” I hurry to add, “I’ll still pay for what I ordered, of course!” “You’re kidding.” Czeha laughs. It’s a fun sound that has an exciting bite to it, almost as if it’s bordering on a bark. But it’s full of warmth in a way that sends a tendril of heat through me. “The tavern’s in your debt. And even if that wasn’t the case, I’m not gonna charge you for something you didn’t get to drink. Here.” — Jacki Sensal