Chapter 124: Chapter 111: Tarte Tatin

Felicia had slipped away by the time I was up and moving later that afternoon. Keke and Ceres still slept soundly in the enormous bed, one on either side of me. After I’d slipped from their hold to find my pants, Ceres sleepily groaned her displeasure before moving to throw an arm over Keke’s waist instead. Keke hummed and wriggled backward until her back was against Ceres’ chest.

Events from the night before had crept their way into my dreams only to follow me in a repetitive reel while awake. So many hands, mouths, breaths. I shivered as I fished my shirt from beneath a communal pile of clothes. What guy doesn’t fantasize about multiple girls at once? But, as insanely sexy as it had been, I was worried. Would this change things with Keke or Ceres? Would Keke wake up and regret it?

Keke had certainly played a more domineering role in the encounter—that was new for her. Couldn’t help but wonder if that was her way of taking control of the situation. Ceres, on the other hand, well, it was clear she’d dropped every filter she’d ever worn. It wasn’t a bad thing, not at all. Just… different.

The bedsheets barely covered their hips, and their chests slowly rose and fell with each measured breath. Keke’s tail had wrapped around Ceres’ lower back while Ceres’ poked free of the blankets, curved just beneath the pillows behind her. It was quiet, picturesque, even. I wondered how they’d feel when they woke up.

Ah, well. Only time will tell.

After getting dressed, I wandered from the room in search of the inn’s restaurant. It was probably way too late for complimentary breakfast, but with Ceres splitting the bill and covering what I was sure was a terrifying drink tab the night before, I still had plenty of Bells to spend.

Tristan and Ara were nowhere to be found, so I took a table in a corner and enjoyed a meal on my own. The restaurant was an extension of the hotel, with long windows overlooking the forests surrounding Abalone. It was empty outside of me and the waitress, so beyond the idle conversation between her and the cook, it was quiet.

When I thought about it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been by myself in Nyarlea—maybe right after I’d first arrived. I leaned back in the chair and stared out the window. Letting my thoughts drift was hard. A lot of events and emotions I’d suppressed in the name of moving forward resurfaced, threatening to choke me. The nameless girl who’d taken my axe to the face during the journey to Catania. The deaths of Jazz, Marianne, Maya, and countless others in the battles with the Defiled. The young lich, who was more than likely still alive. Ravyn. Cannoli. Keke. Ceres—

“You doing okay, honey?” the slender waitress reappeared, a worried smile on her sweet face.

I rubbed my face and jaw, dragging myself back to the present. “Yeah. I’m good, thanks.”

“If you’re looking for something to do, you should check out the game room,” she suggested, holding her silver platter to her lap. “Plenty of folks that stay with us spend most of their time there.”

“Not the hot spring?”

Her smile widened. “There’s not a lot of competition to be had in a hot spring.”

That’s an interesting take. “Alright. I’ll check it out.” I picked my coin purse free and counted the Bells inside.

The waitress held up a hand and shook her head. “This one’s on me, honey. Don’t you worry yourself over it.”

“Are you sure? I can pay for it, really.”

“I’m sure. Everyone needs a pick-me-up every so often. It’s not much, but I’m happy to do it.”

“Jeez. Do I look that bad?” Shouldn’t need a pick me up after a night like that. But here we are.

She shrugged and turned to leave. “Not really. I can just tell, you know?”

I still laid out a handful of Bells as a tip before I left the restaurant. Didn’t feel right not leaving her anything. There were multiple signs on the walls pointing to the changing house outside of the hot springs, the restaurant, and the gaming room. I followed the carefully painted arrows to the gaming room and heard the playful cries of catgirls as I approached.

“You’re a cheat, Mirabel!”

“It’s not my fault you’re bad at this game.”

“Take your Bells and get out.”

“Mirabel’s buying us all drinks tonight.”

I turned the corner to find an expansive hall of round tables. Each one had at least two catgirls playing a game of some sort—cards, dice, board games, ivory tablets that looked suspiciously like dominoes. 

I spotted Ara at a packed table, cradling a hand of cards close to her chest while she carefully watched those around her. She’d changed out of her usual maid attire, swapping it instead for a silk robe with painted flowers. The girls I’d heard outside were also at the table, having a good-natured argument about who was responsible for the next round of drinks. Ara sipped from a tall cocktail, a devilish smile piquing the left corner of her mouth. 

Well, well. Ara does have hobbies.

Beyond the tables were long sofas arranged in a wide square. A small bookshelf with two shelves of leatherbound tomes stood on one side, and a cabinet packed with more games to play faced its opposite. One far corner held a desk where fresh stationery paper, quills, and ink had been arranged in neat piles.

Tristan perched on the end of one of the sofas, with his head bowed over a coffee table. I excused myself around the girls, catching a few lingering gazes as I made my way to Tristan.

He’d procured a stack of paper, ink, and a quill, and was focused on a sketch of Ara meticulously choosing her cards. I’d seen his art on the walls of the caves in Catania, but his work with the quill was another beast entirely. A wide array of line strokes served as the shadows in Ara’s soft robe and hair, and the details of her face were immaculate.

“You’re really good,” I commented, taking a seat on the couch to his left.

Tristan started as if caught in a trance but lifted his pen before he did any real damage to the picture. “Oh, jeez. Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He chuckled and dipped the quill in ink. “Thanks, Matt. It’s been a while since I could draw like this. It’s nice.”

“It looks just like her.” I glanced between the paper and Ara. Tristan had definitely captured her secretive smile and rigid posture. “I’m glad to see her relaxing.”

“Yeah, me too. She deserves it,” Tristan agreed, taking the quill and sketching an intricate design on the backs of the cards.

“Excuse me, may I get you anything to drink?” A catgirl wearing a starched black dress and holding the same kind of silver platter from the restaurant bowed at the end of the sofa.

“Just a water for me, thanks.” I felt like I was beyond lucky to have escaped a hangover.

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To my surprise, Tristan laughed and shook his head. “No way, man. We’re on vacation.” He looked at the waitress. “Two nyappletinis, please.”

C’mon, at least get me a beer. I wanted to object, but I held my tongue.

“Of course. I’ll return shortly.” The waitress bowed again and vanished.

“You left the hot spring pretty early. Did you have a good night?” Tristan asked, returning his focus to his drawing.

“It was great. Thanks.” I felt my face flushing and pivoted the subject. “What about you guys?”

“Ara drank a lot and pledged her life to me. She said she would be more loyal than Ceres.” Tristan grinned. “Drunk Ara is hilarious.”

I nodded. “Did she feel okay after she slept it off?”

“She was a little flustered, but, I mean, we talked about it some…” Tristan trailed off, his cheeks turning red. He cleared his throat. “We’re good now.”

Sounds like it wasn’t just me who had an exciting night. “That’s good to hear.”

“Y-yeah.” The tips of his ears pinked.

The waitress returned with our drinks—translucent green liquid in crystal glasses. It only took three sips of the fruity stuff to start feeling it. “Damn. That’s stronger than it looks.”

“These girls can really hold their alcohol,” Tristan agreed. “And this place seems to go all out.”

It sure does. The right price will even score you a waitress. I hadn’t seen Felicia at all. She was probably running another shift down at the hot spring.

“Hey! New girl! What are you trying to pull?” one of the girls at Ara’s table cried.

“Hm? I’m not pulling anything,” Ara replied mildly.

“You’ve had three perfect hands in a row!” another whined.

Ara shrugged. “I suppose luck is simply on my side.”

“You stole all of our Bells!”

“I stole nothing of the sort.” Ara folded her arms. “Will you please deal the next round before I lose my patience?”

The dealer growled but complied.

“Even when she plays cards she’s intimidating,” I murmured.

Tristan nodded. “She’s got a perfect poker face for sure.”

“Hey, why don’t we play something?” I suggested, standing and moving to the game cabinet. “I’m sure some of them have the rules included.”

“Oh yeah, sure! I’d love that.” Tristan replied, putting his finishing touches on the drawing and pushing it to the side.

I picked out a board game as Tristan ordered us more drinks. The pieces included were hand-carved of polished stone, and the board was painted in vivid, brilliant colors. “Reminds me of Jumanji,” I said as I moved the pieces from the box to the board.

“We were already ripped to another world. Surely it won’t happen again,” Tristan quipped.

“Who knows. A cursed board game wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve seen so far,” I laughed. Shuffling the remaining pieces around, I realized it didn’t come with instructions. “Damn. Doesn’t look like this is one we can play. No rules.”

“U-um,” a soft voice hummed from my right. “T-that's a three-player game. I can t-teach you. if you want.”

A catgirl with orange hair and large honey-colored eyes shifted her weight between her feet. She was pretty short, but supple curves filled her frame nicely, and she hugged a book to her chest. Her tangerine tail flicked behind her, and she fretted at her lower lip.

I glanced over my shoulder. Ara cackled as she threw down her hand and scraped the stack of Bells to her edge of the table. “Yeah, we could use a third player, I think.”

Tristan followed my gaze and nodded. “I think she’ll be indisposed for a while. Have a seat.” He gestured to the open sofa. “What’s your name?”

“Peony,” she replied quietly, taking a seat before setting her book to the side.

Tristan glanced at the cover and his eyebrows raised. He covered his mouth with one hand, but not before I caught the smile he was trying to hide. What’s going on over there? 

“I’m Matt, and this is Tristan,” I volunteered while Tristan subdued his grin. “Teach us how to play.”