Page 17 of Triplets for the Dark Elf
But I’ve learned better than to hire another human. I know first-hand how poorly that can go…
No, I haven’t had a human here in three years. Three years of nonstop searching, of pouring myself into my work until I forget that time exists at all. And when the ledgers stopped being able to block out the voices?
Well, that is what the zhisk is for.
“I have to leave for a while,” I tell the zagfer as I turn toward the front doors. Outside, my carriage awaits.
“I’ll watch the shop,” she answers, and I freeze. For a second, I heard another voice saying that same thing to me.
Turning my head slowly, I can almost see her there. Strawberry blonde hair and flushed cheeks. And then the memory cracks, and I have to remind myself that I haven’t seen Annalise in three years.
I still have no idea what happened to her or where she went. But that uneasy feeling when I discovered my torn up shop has never gone away. No note, no sign of her. I know Annalise, and she wouldn’t do that to me.
Not if she had a choice, that is.
Shaking my head, I force myself from the shop. I don’t even know why I am going to this. I’ve kept my distance from my family since my disappearance – which my father noticed. He came to visit me just after Imris’s ceremony when I declined a family luncheon.
He’d found me in a drunken stupor, angry at the world. I know he left disappointed and uncertain over why my behavior had so suddenly changed.
But since then, neither he nor Imris have pressed me. Not when I decline their offers or when I do show up drunk and bitter to events. I can see how it affects them, though. Charmaine doesn’t let me throw Dovrec in the air anymore. Not that I dropped the kid, but I did stumble, fall and break a table once.
And now she herds them away from me.
I chuckle under my breath as I climb into the carriage and pop open the bottle. I don’t blame them. Honestly, I think the only reason my father hasn’t done more is because the shop is still running smoothly. I’ve managed that at the very least; no mistakes or drunken meetings.
But I could tell he was surprised when I agreed to go to the twins’ birthday. Maybe I was having a particularly good – and by that I mean hopeful – day. But now, it’s been driving me to drink since daybreak.
Gods, at this rate you’d think my body would just give out on me. And I wish it would. I can’t take it anymore.
What did I do to lose the people I love every time?
“Nope,” I mutter to myself. “Not today.”
I can’t let that spiral of thoughts drown me today, so I tip my head back and down mouthfuls of the amber liquid. I’m so used to the pungent taste that I don’t even flinch.
But Imris does when I emerge from the carriage. My father rushes up, and stares at me with that empathetic worry that makes me feel so, so much worse. “Miothro, you smell like a bar.”
I hiccup and then laugh. “Feel like it, too.” Slinging an arm around my brother’s shoulders, I pull him close. “Now where are these children of yours? I need to wish them a happy birthday.”
He sighs, and I catch how Imris and my father exchange a glance. Finally, my father says, “It’s your turn.” He leaves and heads inside their cottage.
Imris turns to face me, putting his body between me and his home, and unlike my father, there is fire in his violet eyes. I understand that look. It's lit by the same fury that burns in my gut.
“Miothro, you can’t keep showing up here in this state.”
I raise my eyebrows, even as I wobble. “What state?” I hiccup again.
“You’re drunk, brother!” He gestures to my disheveled state. “And it’s not even noon! I can’t let you around my children like this.”
Even as he says it, the front door swings open and I see little Osella leap through the threshold. “Uncle Miothro!”
Gods, she’s turning four today, and sometimes I forget just how big they are.
I hit my knees and open my arms, grinning at my niece. For all that has happened, I do love the twins. Seeing them makes my heart warm, and then I immediately am hit with a gut punch.
Because I almost had this. I was so close to a mate and a family – everything Imris has that I want. And as Osella slams into my chest and I hug her tight, I feel my throat tighten. Gods, I wanted that so bad.
Dovrec is just behind her and I squeeze them both tight. “Happy birthday, my little troublemakers.”