Page 74 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

Kieran plops back into the chair, his drink slopping over the side of the cup. “What’s all that about?” he asks, not sounding at all like himself.

The thought of him worried about me warms a part of my heart I didn’t know I still possessed.

I clear my throat, the words sticking in it.

Ga’Rek narrows his eyes at me, smiling even wider.

The asshole.

I cough, then blurt— “I’m sorry I left and you were worried.”

Kieran blinks in surprise, then his royal training takes over and he bows his head, accepting the coughed out apology without another word from me.

“I would have blamed myself forever if she’d taken you,” he says in a gravelly voice.

Two things hit me full force, then; one, that the sulking prince has a hidden depth. And two, how much it means to me to have these two friends at my side.

My eyes sting, probably from the smokey interior.

“We need to meet Wren,” Ga’Rek says, looking between the two of us Unseelie with what appears to be a suppressed laugh.

I glare at him. “Why?”

“Because if she’s mated to our oldest and best friend, we need to warn her what she’ll be in for.”

Kieran laughs, a low, bell-like tone full of rippling power. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and Ga’Rek and I share a surprised look.

Kieran doesn’t seem to notice, simply drinking deeply from his refilled cup.

“What’s she like?” Ga’Rek asks.

“She’s…” I shake my head. The vines of the mate mark curl up my wrist and I roll my shirtsleeves up, taking a long look at it. “She’s clever, and talented, and beautiful. I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I want to prove I’m worthy of every second I spend in her presence.”

Ga’Rek claps his hands together. “Making an honest male out of you. I like her already. Can’t say I would believe it if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes.”

I frown. “I’ll never be honest.”

“Sure you won’t,” Ga’Rek says. He raises his hand again to smack me on the back, but I swat it away. He leans forward. “You know she’s Piper’s best friend, right?”

“I figured they were close.”

“Piper will be upset if you do anything to hurt her.”

I bristle, my fangs lengthening. “Don’t even suggest it,” I hiss, my voice dangerous.

Ga’Rek raises his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t. I was simply stating the obvious. And if you are so set on staying a trickster, then…”

“We aren’t in the Underhill anymore,” Kieran interrupts, his eyes glistening. He unbuckles the cloak from around his shoulders, tossing it over the back of his chair. His beetle wings buzz for a moment, then swing free of the hard shell. He cracks his neck, one shoulder rolling as though the wings, or more likely, the task of keeping them put away, has bothered him.

“We can be whatever we want to be. What is a prince without a throne? And Caelan doesn’t have to be a trickster. By the moon, you’re hardly a warrior now, Ga’Rek, you’re a damned pastry chef.” Kieran slaps a hand on the table, his wings vibrating slightly behind him, the light dancing off the shining membrane and reflecting off the walls. “Is this what we’ll be forever? Me working in a greenhouse and apothecary, you filling eclairs?—”

Ga’Rek clears his throat, turning a deeper shade of green that I know means he’s embarrassed.

“And you, Caelan, serving tea to dwarves and minotaurs and the other riff-raff?” His voice has gotten loud. “Is this all we have? Serving at the behest of a group of covenless witches?”

“That’s my mate you’re talking about,” I snarl, half-standing.

“Oy there,” the female shifter behind the bar chucks a dirty rag at Kieran and it makes a wet sound as it plops against one of his glistening wings.

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