Page 12 of Homeward for a Spell

“That’s it? We’ve got a talker on the roster already.”

Araphi takes another sip of cider. “I can sing, of course, and play the lute. And I’m sure I can flirt just as well as you.”

Sage chokes on the ale she’s sipping. The dimple returns to her cheek, and Araphi has the clearest premonition that it will be her undoing.

“Show me,” Sage challenges.

“Show you how I flirt?”

Sage nods. “Consider it your audition.”

“With who?” Araphi looks around the room. There are three women beside the bar in the middle of an argument about something or other. Two large men at a nearby table are arm wrestling, and then there’s someone with a thick box beard and a hard look in their eyes walking toward the bar from the back of the tavern. None of them appear ready to have the full weight of Araphi Clauneck’s charm flung at them.

Sage leans closer. “Flirt with me. I insist.”

Oh.

Ohhhhhhh.

Heat fills Araphi’s belly. Yes, she can do this. She knows she’s good at it, and she’s certainly happy to flirt with the sexy ranger sitting across from her.

“Well, in that case.” Araphi puts a hand on Sage’s thigh. “If we’re fake flirting, then I’m sure you won’t mind me telling you how much I like your sword.”

A spark of recognition lights Sage’s bright hazel eyes. “You remember my sword?”

Araphi lowers her gaze in one slow blink that she knows makes her eyelashes look miles long. She drops the tone of her voice, so it comes out husky and honey-smooth. “Certainly I do. I’ve spent far too many nights thinking of it since summer.”

Though Sage’s expression doesn’t change, she swallows visibly, which sends a thrill of pleasure through Araphi—because she’s obviously passing this test. Something much more dangerous coils inside her. If she’s being honest, Araphi loves the effect she has on someone seemingly trying their hardest not to like her. She can’t help herself, so she keeps going.

“And I’ve been wondering how a woman like you keeps warm on those long adventures.” She offers Sage her most dazzling smile.

“I manage,” Sage chokes out as Araphi’s nails rake a slow line from Sage’s knee and up her inner thigh.

A blush rises on Sage’s cheeks, and Araphi grins in triumph.

“Should I keep going?” she asks. “Just to prove my skills?”

“I’m not totally convinced,” Sage whispers, her voice a touch ragged.

Araphi can feel the muscles in Sage’s leg tighten under her hand. She shifts in her seat, so her lips are inches from Sage’s ear. “I’m very good at persuading people into my bed, trust me.”

“Not sure that counts as a skill.”

“Oh, believe me, it does. Though it’s been said my other strengths in that skill set are even more…”

Someone sits down beside Sage, their chair screeching against the flagstone floor. “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Wrenching her face away from Sage’s, Araphi turns to see a man with smooth dark skin, nearly unwrinkled despite the gray in his neat beard, and a hard look in his eyes. He glances at Araphi’s hand on Sage’s leg, and she quickly removes it. Is this man with Sage? Has Araphi grievously misread a situation once again?

“I was just auditioning,” Araphi says, sitting up straighter in her chair.

“For what?”

Sage pulls herself together, her cheeks still pink, and clears her throat. “Remy, this is—”

“Phi Runesong,” Araphi chimes in before Sage can introduce her by her real name.

Sage meets her eyes for a moment and nods slightly. “Phi Runesong,” she echoes. “A bard who’s trying out for our party. Phi, this is Remy, the agent who’s contracted the party. He’ll be coming with us.”