I went downstairs, stopped behind the bar, and scanned the empty tavern. No sign of the ghosts. I checked the kitchen, but found only Lady Churl hunched over the stove, stirring something in a large mug.

  "Morning again," I said.

  Lady Churl's head turned. "Back quick, boss. Just brewing up a bit 'a mushroom tea. Want some?"

  I wrinkled my nose at the earthy smell that wafted from her pot. "I'll pass. Listen, I've learned about a potential wedding gift for the king's wedding. Would you mind joining me in the temple below?"

  "Wine down there? Reckon them glasses is turned to sand by now."

  "I'm assured they are quite intact."

  "Yeah? Who told you that?"

  I lowered my voice, "My ghost friends."

  Lady Churl's lips turned down, but she shook it off and shrugged. "Reckon that's alright by me. Not like I got anything better to do."

  "Great." I cleared my throat and called out, "Lady Ophelia? Sir Garin? Where are you?"

  The air shimmered. Lady Ophelia popped into existence first. She wore a flowing gown that shifted between deep purple and midnight blue. Sir Garin appeared beside her, dressed in his shimmering spectral armor, which somehow gleamed despite the lack of light.

  "Well. Good morning, Darling," Lady Ophelia greeted me.

  "I've always wondered. What do you two do when I'm not around?" I asked.

  Lady Ophelia blinked slowly. "We sleep. Surely you're familiar with the term."

  "Sleep? Ghosts sleep?"

  Sleep like the dead, I didn't say out loud.

  Sir Garin chuckled.

  "Of course we sleep," she replied, as if explaining something to a child. "What did you think we do?"

  "I don't know. Haunt things? Float through walls? Watch people change out of their clothes.”

  Sir Garin snorted. "That gets old after the first decade, lad."

  "Fair enough." I laughed. "Could you show me the wine cellar you mentioned? I would like to take a bottle to the king for his nuptials.

  "Certainly," Lady Ophelia said. "Follow me."

  "We're going below," I told Lady Churl.

  Lady Churl grabbed a lantern from a hook on the wall, and we headed toward her room beneath the tavern. As we reached the trapdoor, Morth darted past us, an orange blur with something small and furry dangling from his mouth.

  "That guy really earns his keep," I said with a grin.

  "Aye. 'Ee's a hunter, that one is." Lady Churl nodded affectionately.

  We descended the stairs to Lady Churl's quarters. The goblin's room was surprisingly tidy. Since I had last been down here, she had added a collection of knives to the west facing wall.

  At the far end of the room stood a section of wall covered with wooden planks. Lady Churl set down her lantern and helped me pull the boards away to revea a dark passageway with stone steps leading downward. The last time I'd come this way, with Doan, I had accidentally stumbled across the long-lost city of the ferrokin. I watched my step to make sure I didn't make the same mistake this time.

  The ghosts floated ahead as we descended the worn stone stairs. The air grew cooler with each step, and the walls narrowed until we reached the temple area I'd visited before. The massive stone altar stood silent in the center of the room. Lady Churl's lantern lit the way, but a few unseen faint light sources illuminated the space.

  "This way," Sir Garin said, and pointed to a corridor I hadn't noticed on my previous visit.

  I pulled a coin from my purse and used its edge to scratch a small mark into the wall. Lady Churl raised an eyebrow.

  "Just in case," I explained.

  "I ain't one ta get lost in the dark, boss," Lady Churl informed me.

  "It makes me feel better."

  "Yeah? Suit yourself."

  We followed the ghosts through winding passages. Each turn brought us deeper into the underground complex. The coin left shallow grooves in the ancient stone each time I applied the edge.

  "Isn't it lovely down here, darling?" Lady Ophelia asked.

  "Lovely? I guess it has a certain charm."

  "Aye, lad. Never seen the likes of this place in my long years," Sir Garin said.

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  "Long years? Please, Garin. You barely lived compared to me."

  "I'da lived longer if not for you," Sir Garin told her.

  After several minutes of walking, we entered a vast chamber that stretched beyond the lantern's light. The floor was smooth stone that was free of dust or debris. The air had a clean, almost sweet smell.

  "Here we are," Lady Ophelia announced.

  Lady Churl moved around the room. She stopped at one spot and raised the lantern higher. Along this wall stood dozens of wine racks that extended far into the shadows. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bottles rested in neat rows in racks.

  "This is incredible," I whispered.

  Along the opposite wall, an enormous mural of vibrant colors was painted. It had somehow survived the passage of time. It depicted a grand kitchen scene with figures of various races working together. At the center stood a tall figure in white robes, arms raised as if conducting an orchestra of cooks.

  "How is this place so clean?" I asked, running my finger along a shelf with no trace of dust. "Everything else down here is covered in cobwebs and dirt."

  Lady Ophelia moved closer to the mural. "This area is protected by powerful magic. I can sense it, though I don't understand its workings. Everything here remains as it was when this place was sealed."

  I walked along the wine racks, examining labels in languages I couldn't read. "This wasn't just storage," I said, noticing counters and what appeared to be ancient cooking implements. "This was a food preparation area." I paused and tapped a finger against my chin. "This means there's a kitchen nearby."

  "Wanna see if we's can whip up some mushroom soup?" Lady Churl cackled.

  "I would love to explore, but I must return to Crownforge soon. I can't miss the wedding."

  "Aye. Suit yourself." Lady Churl nodded.

  "So which wine should I bring?"

  Sir Garnin wandered the racks. He dipped his ghostly head to take in the labels.

  "Somethin' strong, boss. Didn't ya say the king ain't no fan of his new bride?" Lady Churl suggested.

  "I think it's complicated. She is from a different royal family, and he is in love with another. It's hard for them both, since this is a royal wedding of convenience."

  "Sound's like a right pain. Reckon ya do it the goblin way then it's much cleaner. If your love don't work out, you knife 'em."

  I sputtered laughter tinged with a little horror. "Lady Churl!"

  Lady Churl shrugged. "What? I only ever had to stab a few."

  "Here ya go, lad. This is your wine," Sir Garin called from a few racks deep.

  I followed his voice and found him with his hand hovering over a lower rack. As with the other bottles, a faint shimmer covered the bottles. I leaned over and stared at the script, but could not make heads or tails of the archaic label.

  "I can't read this."

  "Sovereign's Tribute," Sir Garin said. "Few are more noble for a man like your king."

  "Yeah?"

  "Take it and go. Don't you gotta get back to the wedding?" Lady Churl put in.

  "Right," I said, nodded, and picked up the bottle. There was one more beside it.

  "What kind of writing is this?" I asked the ghosts.

  "It's an older dialect of Elvish," Lady Ophelia said. "I believe it is an excellent wine. Most any of them are."

  "Would these two be enough to impress the king?" I asked the ghosts.

  "Lad, that wine will be enough to impress the entire kingdom." Sir Garin nodded.

  I studied the bottles, impressed that they were intact and free of dust, and the corks looked as if they had been inserted only days ago.

  "These will do," I said, and turned with one in each hand.

  I returned to my bedroom without incident, a nice change compared to the last time I was here.

  I selected items for the royal wedding, and packed my travel bag with care. My new jacket hung on the wardrobe door so I could wear it on the way back to Crownforge to stay warm. I hoped it didn't get too dirty.

  A few of Seraphina's garments hung on the other side. I considered packing a few clothes for her as well, but couldn't decide what to pack, and figured it would be the wrong choice anyway.

  I rifled through the shirts hanging inside. Most were serviceable tavern wear. Sturdy cotton in dark colors that hid stains well. Behind them, I found what I sought, a crisp white shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons. I pulled it out and held it against my chest, checking its condition in the small mirror mounted on the wall. This would do.

  I made sure to slip back into my new fast travel boots just in case I needed to rush once I was back at the palace.

  I folded the shirt carefully and placed it in my bag alongside my best trousers. I wrapped the wine bottles in soft cloth and nestled them between layers of clothing for protection.

  With my bag packed, I closed the wardrobe and hoisted the strap over my shoulder. As I stepped into the hallway, a pained groan echoed from down the corridor.

  I paused, and called out gently, "Hello?"

  "Varix? Help me, old boy. I'm dying," a husky male voice called out.

  "Kieran? Is that you?"

  "The very same. Please...assistance required."

  I walked to the last door on the right and knocked lightly.

  "Enter," came the weak reply.

  I pushed open the door. The bard lay sprawled across the bed dressed in a white nightshirt. He was wrapped in sheets and blankets. His normally perfect hair stuck out in all directions, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.

  "What's wrong with you?" I asked. "Are you sick?"

  Kieran pressed the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically. "I fear I may not be able to perform tonight. That dragon woman…I should say no more."

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "Are you serious right now, or is this some form of bragging?"

  The bard rolled his eyes, flopped back onto the mattress, and covered his head with a pillow.

  "I have to leave for Crownforge," I said. "Do some stretches, get dressed, and tune your instruments. You'll feel better."

  Kieran pulled the pillow away from his face and waggled his eyebrows. " I believe the dragon broke my instrument last night."

  I shook my head and backed toward the door. "That's...not how anatomy works."

  "You wouldn't understand, Varix. The life of a bard is fraught with physical peril. I may yet perish. Surely you can summon help to assist me. A servant perhaps?"

  "I can send Lady Churl up, but she might stick you with a knife a little."

  Kieran coughed dramatically.

  "Right." I left the door wide open as I headed toward the stairs, certain the bard would have to get up to close it. "Instead of knifing you, Lady Churl might make you breakfast if you ask nicely."

  "Food?" Kieran's voice perked up. "Perhaps I shall live, after all."

  I smiled to myself as I descended the stairs. The sound of Kieran's feet hitting the floor followed by the soft click of his door confirmed my strategy had worked.