Page 3 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

We wish you well in your pursuits, and if you would like to purchase additional correspondence courses and materials, we are more than happy to provide them.

Best wishes,

The Enchanter’s Lapidary and Metalsmithing Guild

“Well?” Rosalina prompts, the mouse in her pocket staring at me with glossy black eyes. “What does it say?”

“By the crone,” Nerissa says crabbily, “use your eyes. She’s been rejected again.”

I want to glare at Nerissa, but the pretty raven-haired witch is entirely right. I settle for staring at my hands instead.

“They said not to apply again. Pretty much.” My throat is tight, and I can barely force the words out. I pour myself a cup of black coffee, wishing I’d stayed upstairs in my little apartment where I could snuggle Fenn and cry in privacy.

“What?” Piper’s face is astounded, her eyes wide and mouth a thin line of annoyance. “How dare they?”

“They don’t want an outcast.” The word is bitter on my tongue. “Without a coven, they won’t even look at my application.”

Nerissa glares daggers at the open letter before me. I drink the coffee just to have something to do, and it’s too hot and strong and overwhelming after the bad news.

My shoulders sag in disappointment, and I fight the wave of self-pitying tears that threaten. “I needed this,” I say, flapping the letter at the four witches in front of me. “I need to be in their good graces.”

I set my jaw, more obsessed than ever with getting into the goddess-damned guild one way or another.

“I’ll figure out a way in,” I grind out. “I’ll be so good they can’t ignore me.”

Piper gives me a bleak look. “You’re already the best enchantress we’ve seen.”

“That’s not saying much,” Nerissa snarks.

Willow laughs again, but the healer watches me carefully. “We could start our own coven. Then you could try again.”

I shake my head, mustering a placating smile that doesn’t stretch to my eyes. “You know no one wants anything to do with me. The Elder Council won’t touch anything I’m a part of. Not after…” I trail off, and the rest of the women around the table pick up the conversation, discussing how, exactly, they could begin their own coven here in Wild Oak Woods.

I stew in my thoughts and pick at the cupcake in front of me, Piper’s signature pleasure spell woven into the frosting hardly touching my black mood.

Until the door of The Pixie’s Perch blows open, a gust of chilly air sending the chimes above it tinkling. The five of us whip our attention to it, the faint fingers of magic sending the hair on the nape of my neck upright.

A birch-branch broom just inside the pastry shop falls to the black and white tiled floor with a clatter, and I jump.

“Change is on the wind,” Nerissa says darkly. “Company is coming.”

Piper and Willow exchange a look, concern furrowing their brows.

The preternatural stillness vanishes as suddenly as it arrived, and the whole of The Pixie’s Perch seems to shake itself as business resumes at the same fever pitch like nothing happened.

Something happened, though.

Change is on the wind.

CHAPTER TWO

CAELAN

I’m in a foul mood. Kieran is likewise in a foul mood, though that’s nothing new. The Unseelie prince scowls as he surveys the fish charring over the fire.

Only Ga’Rek seems to be enjoying our so-called jaunt outside of the Underhill.

Better here than in Her Majesty’s dungeons, though.

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