The Demon King Davian

When Toran dropped her off at the village square on the morning of Christmas Eve, he said, “We’re back to training tomorrow, right?”

“Yes. I’m fine now. Come for me in the afternoon.”

He nodded. “Walker will take you home tonight after you’re finished at the tavern.”

“Thanks,” she said. “You’ve been a huge help, Toran.”

He rode off and she headed toward Lisette’s library. But the line of people outside the bakery drew her attention. So too did the fact that the sidewalks and streets had been cleared of the fresh powder that had accumulated over the past month. A layer of packed snow still covered the surfaces, but it was so much easier to trek through the small community—a treat this time of year.

As she approached the bakery, Ginny Lambert, the last in line, waved her over. “Jade! Thank the Lord. You really are okay.”

Unexpectedly, the older woman gave her a firm hug.

Malcolm Carter, the town’s highly skilled blacksmith, said, “You had everybody worried.”

“I’m fine,” she assured them as her presence garnered more interest. Ignoring the curious looks, she nodded toward the inside of the shop and asked, “What’s all the fuss about?”

Just then, Marge Leighton, the baker’s wife, appeared. “I heard Ginny say your name. Thank goodness you’re all right. Attacked by a fire wraith? How horrific!”

“Yes,” Jade said as she fought the chill rippling through her at the reminder.

“Here, take these.” Marge thrust her plump hand toward Jade. She held out a chipped plate. “Cranberry and orange muffins. They’re to die for. Well,” she added hastily as the group gathered about seemed to collectively gasp. “Those aren’t quite the appropriate words to use in our village, are they? But the muffins will not disappoint.” She whirled around and headed back inside to keep the customers moving along.

“Wait! I haven’t paid.”

“For you, Jade, they’re on the house!”

She gazed down at the pastries and shrugged, a bit confused.

Leaving the crowd, she found another line at the coffee shop, which offered little more than the standard fare in coffee. However, it was more convenient to grab a mass-produced mug there than brew a pot over the fire in offices, shops, homes. Still, the average cup of joe wasn’t worth a fifteen-minute wait.

“What on earth is going on?” she asked Walt Steinman, the village dentist.

“Gourmet coffee, rumor has it.”

Jade sniffed the air. “Smells like Christmas.”

“Nutmeg? Cinnamon? Hazelnut?” Walt queried. “I can’t even figure out what they’re using to spice up the usual beans, but it beats the hell out of the same old, same old, don’t you think?”

“I agree.”

She stood behind him, but didn’t have to wait for her turn. The shop owner, Judith Mills, came out with two large, ceramic mugs, their typical to-go cups that everyone who ventured away from the shop returned at the end of the day.

Judith ceremoniously handed them over as Jade balanced the plate along their rims.

“Take this to Lisette. She’ll love this new flavor,” Judith said.

Jade’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry about paying me. You’ve been through hell, from what everyone around here has heard. We’re all so relieved you’re alive, Jade.”

She merely nodded, since she couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. Judith patted her on the cheek before turning away.

Carefully making it to the library, Jade kicked the door with her booted foot and Lisette pulled it open.

“Oh!” the older woman exclaimed as she reached for the muffins so they didn’t topple.

“Surprise,” Jade said. “I’ve become Alice.”