Page 55 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

“Where did you get all this?” I ask, absolutely stupefied by the luxury.

“The inn I’m staying at offers lunch and dinner twice a week. This just happens to be the day they offer it.”

“You’re staying at the Wild Oaks Inn?” I take in the feast he’s brought. “And they serve that?”

“If what you’re trying to say is, Caelan, I simply cannot believe you’re staying somewhere so disgusting, it must be trying for your delicate fae sensibilities, the answer is yes, it is horrible and I am terribly afflicted by it.”

I laugh and he grins, continuing his diatribe with gusto.

“And if you’re also remarking on how such a run-down place can offer up such a delicious spread, I am just as confused as you are.” He crosses over to the chair, scooping me out of it without so much as a warning and gently depositing me at my worn table. “The owner is an old man, mortal human, just regular old fellow, yes? You’ve met him?”

I nod. Hash Beauchamp is a bit of a legend around here, cranky and stooped with age, but proud and warm once you get to know him.

“Did you know he has a dog?”

“No, I didn’t,” I tell him.

He slides the plate in front of me, shaking his head as he fixes himself a plate. “He does, he has this dog who might be even older than he is. Grey muzzle, a limp, all that. The dog’s name is the real point of interest, though.”

“Is it?” I ask, barely able to contain my preemptive laughter.

“The dog’s name is Boner.” He gives me a meaningful look. “The first night I stayed there, all I heard for the first hour upon cleaning the postage stamp of a room I rented was the old man yelling, ‘HERE BONER, WHERE IS MY BONER,’ over and over and over again.”

I cough, choking on a potato as I laugh. “No.”

“Oh, yes, yes indeed. I truly had to sit on the bed once I’d evicted all the spiders from the dark corners and ponder how, exactly, I managed to come to that point in my life.”

I manage to swallow the potato, my shoulders shaking as I laugh. “I honestly don’t know if I believe you. Hash Beauchamp has a dog named Boner?”

“I asked him about it, you know, once I realized it was in fact, the name of his dog and not some malfunctioning body part.” He shivers dramatically, cutting his portion of chicken into neat pieces. “He said the dog just loves to chew on bones. That’s why he named him that. I’m not sure he even knows slang.”

“There’s no way he doesn’t.” I can’t stop laughing, and I’m afraid to eat another bite and choke. I gather all my courage and stuff a massive piece of sourdough dripping with honey butter into my mouth, though, like a real soldier.

“Who could say? Mortals are a strange group.” He shakes his head again and takes a bite.

I nod emphatically, because yes, we certainly are.

“Does Hash cook the food? This chicken is,” I don’t have a word to adequately describe it, and I flounder along for a moment before Caelan comes to my rescue.

“It’s perfect, isn’t it? And no, I had the same question, but he doesn’t. There’s an elf who works the kitchen. He’s not my biggest fan,” he adds with a laugh. “But he does good work. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

We both dig into our meals with gusto, falling silent with the sound of clinking forks on china and the crackling hearth as a somewhat musical accompaniment.

“It means a lot to me,” I tell him shyly, blotting my mouth with a napkin. “You taking care of me and bringing me this meal.”

“It should,” he agrees.

I snort, amused all over again at his cockiness. “And why should it?”

“Because I see how little you expect from the world around you. You expect people to tell you no, you expect to fail at this business, in spite of how good you are, because that’s what the people around you have taught you to expect. They’ve failed you.”

“Oh.” He’s rendered me speechless, and he’s not done.

“I won’t.” Caelan delivers this promise with such certainty that it takes me aback.

“We’ve only just met.”

“True.”

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