Page 30 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

The tinkling sound grows brighter, faster, and a strangely heavy pressure settles on my shoulder.

Fenn makes a sound low in his throat, and I very, very slowly look at the creature now perched on my person.

“I would like the blueberry scones with the spiced walnuts and the cheeriness spell,” the brownie says, the words so high and fast I have to strain to make them out.

It’s furry—no, fuzzy, really, a light, silken fuzz coating every inch of the little faerie’s body. Golden wings twinkle in the early light, inordinately long fingers tipped in claws at its sides. Vertically elongated pupils, like a cat, blink at me beneath a lush fringe of eyelashes.

“Cheeriness spell,” I repeat, slightly dizzy.

“That would be nice,” the brownie says, dipping her head in agreement. “Your offer is accepted.”

The tiny thing levitates from my shoulder, appearing on the table in the blink of an eye and lapping at the cup of milk and sugar like a cat. I study it for a moment, boggled and out of sorts, noting the finely furred ears on the top of its head.

Strange.

“I’ll just… leave you to it,” I say.

Slowly, because I don’t want to upset the thing, I retreat to my bedroom and shut the door behind me, nearly closing Fenn out.

“A brownie?” I murmur, and Fenn’s huge ears perk up.

A brownie. Who wants blueberry scones with spiced walnuts and a cheeriness spell, who left me brushes and cleaned my house and mended my shoes. More than mended my shoes, really.

Those emerald slippers are so much better than new.

The brownie must have tended to my room last night too, because now that I’m not sitting stock still in bed, terrified, it’s easy to see that everything’s been given a shine, dusted to perfection, and the small worn-out spots in my bedding have been carefully patched.

“Wow,” I manage.

The boar bristle brush and comb the brownie told me about do, in fact, sit on the vanity, and they’re much, much nicer than any set I’ve ever owned.

The Seelie Queen sent the brownie?

My nose crinkles as I mull it over, but my brain doesn’t present any answer or explanation or, sadly, any outlandish theories, either.

It’s a good sign, though… isn’t it?

Anxiety tightens my chest, and I rub the heel of my hand over it. Maybe I’ll get myself a blueberry scone with spiced walnuts and a cheeriness charm too.

My gaze lands on the brush set again.

Or maybe all I need is to take care of myself—brush my hair and clean myself up and put my best foot forward, and be so damned good that the guild can’t ignore me.

I nod and sit at the tiny vanity and begin the tedious work of unsnarling my hair before I make good on my promise to myself.

The chill from the evening hasn’t quite dissipated as I finally open the door to my shop, double-checking to ensure it locks behind me. Fenn’s tucked by the hearth again, napping away the morning as he always does, but for once, I’m not napping with him.

Mist clings to the cobblestone streets, the few early risers up and about at this hour moving quickly to their destinations.

My heart’s a hummingbird in my chest, buzzing with something between excitement and anxiety.

At least I have the comfort of knowing I’ve done my best to make myself presentable.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nostrils to calm myself and take the first steps from my doorway.

The leather satchel digs into my shoulder and I readjust it as I walk, passing by the already busy Pixie’s Perch. If I go there first, I might lose my nerve, and I’m still determined to do this… for now, at least.

I’ll save the familiar pastels and Piper’s friendship as a reward for pushing myself from my comfort zone. And I’ll get two blueberry cheeriness scones to go.

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