“I am glad you approve,” he chirped, before expressing his apologies and turning his attention to the minotaur who’d wandered over, requesting a box of Autumn Delights.

I watched as he served the guy, taking extreme care with each fruit-laden cake as he placed them into a white craft-paper box before bagging them up. Rubies were exchanged instead of gold coins—the currency for some monsters, but not others—and the minotaur expressed his gratitude. He bowed to Cair and me as he left.

Ivar sagged back into his seat once more, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, several more customers began to gather around, though they seemed content just to browse. “Creators, this is as busy as I’ve been all day. I tell ya, everyone gets a glimpse of the white hair and suddenly this stall is the best thing since the Veil. Why don’t you stand there for a wee bit longer, Your Highnesses, so I can sell out and go back to bed, huh?” he joked, laughing tiredly.

Cair scoffed, the sound extremely fond. “It’s good to see you, Ivar. And though I’d love to stick around, we have somewhere to be. Don’t let us distract you any further.”

Ivar waved dismissively. “Pfft, nonsense. You know better than anyone that I can multitask, and I do a damn fine job of it, too.”

“That you do.”

Okay, there was a story here, and I was desperate to know it. Were they… ex-lovers or something? Nah, Cair wouldn’t drop that on me without warning, and from what he’d told me of his past, he’d only ever had flings with nagas, orcs, and other Fae, so that theory was impossible. It was clear they had a bond of some kind, and as Ivar was visibly much older than Cair, it seemed plausible that he’d been a mentor or a teacher, maybe even an adviser.

“Before you go, take this…” Ivar dipped under his table with a pained grunt, coming back up with a package in his hands—a sizable item swathed in linen cloth. “It’s not much, or anything extravagant, but consider it a belated mating gift.”

Seeing that my hands were occupied, Cair took the item and peeled back the covering for me to see. It was a dagger, the blade safely tucked inside its scabbard, while the marble hilt, painted with intricate swirling patterns, stood out against the white cloth. “Thank you,” I said, my eyes wide in awe. “You’re too kind.”

“Keep it close,” he suggested. “You never know when it’ll come in handy.”