Page 41 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

I rub my temple, a headache starting to form.

“Hands,” I say crisply, and we all link hands and I begin weaving the beginnings of the binding spell that will call Caelan to us… and hopefully keep him under control.

And then I’ll get my damned dragon sapphires and finally, finally prove I’m good enough to be in the goddess-damned guild.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CAELAN

I’m midway through a very satisfactory evening nap when a strange tingling sensation in my midsection rouses me from dozing.

I bolt upright, sucking in a breath of surprise as the tingling grows stronger, more insistent, like something’s hooked deep inside my ribs.

“Must be the after effect of dealing with dwarves,” I mutter. “Bad for digestion.”

I start to lie back down, frowning to myself, when the sensation turns deeply unpleasant, pressure rising all around me. My eardrums begin to thrum, drum-like and distant, but growing faster, louder.

I close my eyes, trying to blot it all out, and when I open them again, I’m no longer in my paltry rented room at the most threadbare inn known to the world.

Dizzy, I do my best to stand up, slightly concerned and very annoyed at my new circumstance. Mist and fog curl around my legs, the scents of wherever I am overpowering and strong: the wet growth of a forest floor, many, many magical ingredients, burning incense, and, strangely, lemon bars.

The stamp of the magic that’s brought me here is familiar, and at first, my stomach swoops—but it’s not the Dark Queen’s.

A lazy smile tugs up my lips as the steamy vapor around me begins to dissipate, because I recognize that magic.

“Well, little Wren, my golden witch. What a surprise to be summoned like this,” I purr into the darkness. Light blooms around me in a half-sphere, and at that, my eyes do widen in surprise. Yellow ribbons of power crisscross all around me, interspersed with vermillion streaks, verdant emerald threads, and an improbable candy-coating pink spliced throughout.

“A binding spell,” I hiss, my eyes flashing. “Little witch, if you wanted my body, all you had to do was ask.”

“I told you you should have just asked,” a voice whispers, but it’s not my Wren. Another witch, then. Has my mortal outcast found a coven, then?

Not that I care.

“I wanted to be certain,” a stubborn voice says, and I grin sharply because I recognize that voice.

“Say my name,” I command silkily, aroused in spite of my predicament, or maybe because of it, because this little golden-haired witch has outmaneuvered me. Me.

The bargainer, the rogue, the knave of the Dark Queen’s court.

And I love it.

“You’re not the one who determines how this conversation goes, Caelan.” Wren sounds miffed, and when her lovely little face comes into view, she looks it, too. Pink-cheeked and flush with power, her eyes very nearly glowing in the dim light.

My breath catches, the tingling under my ribs coming back full force.

A good, solid binding spell, then. Good for her.

Pride fills me on her behalf, even as annoyance at being summoned and bound flares anew.

“And yet you said my name so prettily anyway,” I tell her, grinning widely. “To what do I owe the pleasure of another night of your company?”

“Another night?” one of the witches in her circle gasps.

“That’s right, she didn’t tell you? Naughty Wren, the little bird who caught a fairy in a cage of colors.” I gesture to the strange shape all around me.

It’s a nice bit of a magic, but I’m fairly sure I could break it.

Might hurt though. Probably not worth it.

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