Page 20 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

“Mmm-hmmm,” he says, the low vibration of the noise calming. I take a deep breath, coming slightly unwound, relaxing from the normalcy of simple conversation.

Huh. Who could have known all I needed was a break?

I rub my stomach. A break and some food, I decide.

“Lila at Long Leaf Brews took pity on me. She has a wonderful café, and she and her husband have been good to me.” There’s a hollow ring to his words, a quiet sort of questioning that echoes how I’ve been feeling all day. All week.

“I would like to get dinner with you,” I tell him, deciding in that very instant.

“You would?” his smile grows sharper by the second, dangerous and alluring as all the worst ideas are.

“I would.” I sigh, rubbing a hand across my face before giving him a pitiful look. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I might not be the best person to show you around Wild Oak Woods.” I shrug a shoulder at the street.

The lanterns that line the street begin to glow as the sun sinks below the thatched and tiled roofs of the homes that butt up to the downtown blocks. The glass is spelled to project the light, powered by night-blooming mistflower and enchanted by Nerissa to enhance its brightness.

“It’s clever spellmanship,” Caelan remarks, noticing where my attention’s gone. That, or mindreading is one of the many unsavory Unseelie fae attributes. “There’s been a lot of thought put into this place.”

He extends his elbow, and I stare at it for a beat before realizing he’s offering it to me.

My cheeks flush in embarrassment, and I clumsily poke my hand through before stumbling slightly into him.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my cheeks beet-red. “I’m stiff from sitting and working.”

“You’re not taking care of yourself,” he says, a strange blue light in his eyes. “Why?”

The one word lingers in the air between us, and I turn it over as he leads me down the cobblestone street, nodding as we pass a centaur out with a pretty human woman.

“I’m worried,” I finally tell him. “You don’t want to hear about this,” I say on the next breath.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear.” His elbow nudges my rib cage gently, and it makes me smile.

Fenn makes careful steps next to us, glancing up at me occasionally but otherwise completely unperturbed by the fae I’m arm-in-arm with.

It’s either Fenn’s entirely unconcerned attitude, or a result of how absolutely wretched I’ve been, but I relax into him, letting him steer me around the town I’ve called home for a few months and have barely scratched the surface of.

It’s nothing like where I’m from, the always busy and bustling eastern shore, the huge cities. Noise, smells, the sheer volume of people—getting lost in the crowd was a way of life. I thought it was perfect, the anonymity, blending in—until the coven decided my spot could be used for someone with more power, political or otherwise.

Then, cast out of the coven, my parents long dead, I was alone in a city full of creatures who didn’t care to know my name.

“What was it like?” I blurt out, landing on the first question that comes into my head.

Anything to avoid those memories.

He glances sidelong at me. “The tea café?”

Thick embarrassment crawls up my throat. “No, I meant… the Underhill.”

“Ah. That.” He enunciates each syllable carefully. “It is not a place for those soft of heart… or hide.”

I suppress a shudder. “Is that why you left?”

Quiet stretches between us. Maybe I’ve overstepped. Maybe that’s a rude question. “I don’t mean to pry?—”

“I left because my friends and I were no longer welcome in the Underhill. The Dark Queen does not take lightly to those that test her authority.”

I pause, glancing up at him. “You tested her authority?”

“According to her,” Caelan answers shortly. “And that’s all that matters.”

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