Page 18 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off?” Lila suggests.

Druze grunts in agreement, his green eyes pinning me in place. “We are more than caught up on the work we hired you for,” he adds.

I gesture around to the half-empty café. “And miss all the excitement?”

“Go. Have you even explored the town yet?” Lila makes a shooing motion with her hands. “I know it’s hard to start over,” she glances up at Druze, the concern around her eyes softening when she smiles at him. “It’s hard,” she continues. “But it can be so worth it, if you let yourself have a chance to grow.”

She turns her attention back to me, and the worry and happiness on her face are what shock me the most.

Because it’s real, and it’s for me.

“Take a cup of lavender grey,” she says, forcing a fresh tumbler into my hands. “Go walk, and see what there is to see. Come back tomorrow morning and we can talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you, okay?”

I start to dip into an unctuous bow, as I might have in front of Her Dark Majesty, but pull up short because Lila might be my boss—for the moment—but she’s not my queen.

I don’t have a queen anymore.

I’m an Unseelie fae, out of the Underhill, and completely, utterly rudderless.

When I make myself smile back at her, I’m suddenly too tired to flash any fang, and I take the tea and her advice to get to know my new home a little better.

Starting with the witch I can’t get out of my head.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WREN

The rejection letter sits in a place of dishonor above my jeweler’s bench. It mocks me, the faux-polite veneer of each sentence growing more burnished every time my gaze skates over it.

Kicked out of my coven.

Polish, polish, polish.

Rejected from the Metalsmithing Guild.

Polish, polish, polish.

Doomed to use up what little savings I have and give up completely, what with no customer base to speak of.

The metal band I’ve been polishing slips from my aching fingers, and I scowl up at the letter from the guild as the ring spins on the wood bench.

Fenn yips at me and I glance down at him, angry tears threatening once again.

“Maybe it is time for a break,” I tell him, sniffling. “Maybe we should close up shop for the night and just go for a walk. Would you like that? Some fresh air?”

His tail flicks back and forth, but I’m not truly paying attention to him anyway.

Add bad fox-mom to my list of failures.

“What’s one more?” I moan.

Fenn blinks once, unimpressed with my dramatics.

Well, that makes two of us. I push back from the bench, pulling the exquisite pair of dwarven-made loupes from my forehead.

Wincing, I stretch my arms high above my head, trying to work out the kinks and cramps in my shoulders and lower back.

I’ve been sitting and working for much, much too long. Lost track of time, if the darkness descending outside is any clue.

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