Page 22 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

I shake my head and avert my eyes, certain I’ve been staring.

I need to start making sure I eat more. This sort of low blood sugar hazed judgment is not going to do me any favors.

And maybe make a point to get out of my own store.

And maybe I should take down that rejection letter and stop sulking.

Fenn butts his face against my ankle, and I lean down to scratch behind his ears. His tail twitches behind him and I wish, not for the first time, that I could speak outright to the familiar. I can tap his magic stores, keep him company, and get a general mood from him… but it would be nice to have a friend. A real friend, to talk to and not worry about coven politics or anything else.

By the time I stand back up, Caelan’s holding several paper boats full of charred meat, steam still curling from them.

“I have some coin in my?—”

“Absolutely not,” Caelan interrupts. “You’ll hurt my feelings if you offer to pay. This is merely in exchange for the tour you promised to give me.”

The words feel formal, despite his easy smile, no fangs in sight.

“I accept.” The words come out naturally, and by the way his eyes glint, I know I’ve said the right thing.

He tips his head towards one of the few empty stone benches in the middle of the square, and we meander through the crowd and settle in.

Fenn sits at attention as Caelan hands me the first skewer, managing to balance a trio of dipping sauces on the uneven stone bench between us.

“Bargains are usual for you, then?” I ask, picking a piece of juicy meat off the skewer and offering it to Fenn, who’s only too happy to scarf it down.

“For me, or for the Unseelie, you mean?”

I pop a piece of meat into my own mouth, enjoying the burst of flavor across my tongue, and consider his question.

A quartet begins playing at the corner of the square, a lyre and a flute accompanied by a drum and a singer.

“Both, I guess,” I finally answer, feeding Fenn another piece.

Caelan stares at his own meat for a moment before the entire skewer seems to disappear into his mouth.

I blink in confusion.

“Bargains are the currency of power,” he answers carefully.

There hardly seemed to be enough time for him to swallow, much less chew all that meat. A tingle of uncertainty creeps across my skin, and I tug the many-colored shawl tighter around me.

“In the Queen’s court, knowledge meant staying ahead of your enemies. Bargaining for that knowledge meant staying alive, as long as you kept the upper hand.”

Fascinated, I stare openly at him while I chew. “You were in the court?”

“All Unseelie fae are in her court,” he says, not unkindly. “We don’t have a choice.”

I turn that over as I eat the rest of the skewer, braving the spiciest of the sauces to pass the time.

“That doesn’t sound very nice,” I manage. “It sounds terrible, actually.”

“You say that, but when I bumped into you at your shop, you looked about as miserable as I felt on my worst days.” He arches an eyebrow, then offers Fenn a piece of meat from one of his skewers.

Fenn’s tail wags behind him as he seizes the piece of meat, making one of his funnier gurgling noises in the back of his throat.

“You know, it’s odd to see a pet.”

“Fenn’s not a pet, not really. He’s a familiar.”

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