Page 13 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

“I am at your service,” Kieran says in a low voice, surprising me by sketching an equally low bow.

His wings extend again as he straightens, and a pink flush rides across Willow’s cheeks.

“It won’t be easy,” she warns. “I have snapping kaninduelas in need of repotting, the gnarburls are about to bloom, and I need to harvest the crostrein nuts.”

I raise an eyebrow at Kieran, waiting for him to shirk any duties, especially those involving snapping kaninduelas, but he simply dips his head at her requests.

“I might have questions about how to do it to your standards, my lady,” he says, all noble fae.

I roll my eyes and bite back a laugh. Either he’s decided to accept fate’s hand across his princely cheeks or he, too, has found a bossy little witch he likes.

Well, either way, it will make my life easier.

“Have fun,” I say, breaking the staring contest between the two. “I’ll head to Isley’s… farm stand, is it?”

“She doesn’t need help. She won’t take yours, at least.” The witch doesn’t even look up at me, and my ego smarts a bit from all the attention she’s lavishing on Kieran. Ah well, the young fae prince has always been short on attention from women.

Maybe this will do him some good, after all.

Although it is definitely not the kind of good the Dark Queen would approve of.

Which means it’s the exact kind of thing I approve of… at the moment, at least.

“Where do you suggest I find work then, Willow witch?” I ask, stepping back as a strange flower begins to bud next to me. I watch it warily, putting space between the bloom and me and feeling the whisper of her verdant magic all around.

“Long Leaf Brews,” she answers shortly, finally glancing at me. “The elf who owns it is welcoming of all manner of species… and she will probably be your best bet. Besides, she’s busy with her new husband at the moment and could use some time off.”

I wait, hoping she’ll drop more hints that might help me get my way.

Not that I need help, but I do like to have an advantage when possible.

“You won’t get her name from me,” Willow says smartly, pulling a pair of glistening shears from her apron pocket. “Now go on, I don’t need two of you scaring off clients. One with wings is enough. You come with me.” She crooks a finger, and to my shock, Kieran follows without a look back.

I take a moment to glance around her strange, bewitching apothecary once more, avoiding the now blooming flower that seems to be leaning towards me, before making my way back outside.

Dusk’s fallen, and I doubt Long Leaf Brews, whatever that may be, will be open for much longer.

An elf, a whole bustling coven of witches, the minotaurs… this is a strange place full of strange folk.

A fast clip-clop grows louder, and I dodge out the way as a huge male centaur with feathered hooves trots down the cobblestone street.

I should go find this elf and her new husband and make myself appealing to them.

Instead, I find myself following the muscled back of the dapple-grey centaur, back to The Pixie’s Perch… and more importantly, back to the store next to it.

A jewelry boutique, fit for a metalsmithing witch with unkempt blonde hair and a wicked sharp gaze. Gold and silver gleam in the waning light, the last fingers of sunset setting the rare stones ablaze through the window.

Witchwork’s Jewelry, a wooden sign overhead proclaims.

I drink it in, the lovely craftsmanship she’s wrought on full display in the window. The magic chimes gently in the air, even through the glazed windows, the knack of her power compelling even without the stunning work on navy velveteen pillows.

Now that I know she’s here, this blonde Wren, this little golden magpie of a witch, I will be hard-pressed to let her go.

My lips purse, and I begin to whistle tunelessly again.

The compulsion to pursue prey is as natural to my kind as breathing.

And Wren, the lovely, ethereal blonde enchantress, would make perfectly pleasant prey.

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