Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Author Notes Renée Jaggér
Books from Renée
Books By Michael Anderle
Connect with the authors
CHAPTER ONE
The hubbub in the bar off Continental Army Plaza was almost loud enough to drown out the music. Ancient and reedy, the tunes struggled to compete with the conversations in the small, well-lit, warm space.
Val Stonehold recognized the song since she’d grown up with it. The Song of the Glorious celebrated the fallen heroes of the Battle of New Camelot, but few of the young, hip humans in the bar would realize that. They didn’t know that New Camelot or the dwarves who had died defending it had existed.
It’s a weird world, Val reflected. Two weird worlds, actually.
She raised the tray of beers above her head to make room for her partner in running the Iron Fist. Enzo ducked under her arms, clutching a tray of empty glasses.
“Thanks,” he yelled.
“Should we turn up the music?” Val shouted.
Enzo grimaced. “It’s already at the max!”
Val nodded and hurried to the bar, where a thick crowd of impatient patrons waited. Unlike her, most were human. They eagerly grabbed the dwarf-made IPA from the tray, laughing and talking. Several were very animated after a couple of beers.
The group backed away but didn’t sit down since the seats were full. A second crowd pressed against the bar, all elves. Their glamours hid their pointed ears and unrealistic beauty from the humans.
“What can I get you?” Val bellowed over the din.
“Three Iron IPAs.” An elf grinned. “What else? It’s your best!”
Val smiled, in too much of a rush to accept the compliment, and hustled to the back of the bar. Enzo feverishly unloaded the dishwasher, which filled the crowded space with steam.
“Can you believe this is just another Wednesday night?” Val asked.
Enzo grimaced, displaying his tusks. “We wanted more business.”
“We sure got it. I’m not complaining,” Val assured him, “I only wish Dante had more availability.”
“Kid’s got so many extra classes this semester, he barely has time to eat.”
“Poor guy. I’m glad he’s focusing on school.” Val chuckled. “I’m just worried about what we’ll do when I get a new bodyguarding contract from the queen.”
Enzo gave her a despairing look. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“We do need to think about it,” Val told him gently. “Basically, we need a bartender.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Enzo muttered, stacking dirty glasses in the dishwasher.
Despite the frost outside, Val was sweating as she grabbed three clean glasses, wiped them dry, and turned to the keg of Iron IPA on the shelf.
