Page 5 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

“Why?” Ga’Rek smiles even wider. “Did you find one?”

I burst out laughing. Ga’Rek was dealt a shit hand by the fae, taken as a child from his orc family and given fae strength and longer life in return for his service to the Crown.

It didn’t change him, though. He’s remained as steadfast and kind as he was as a child.

I should know, since I was the one that took him.

“There’s a village over that hill,” Ga’Rek finally says, jerking his chin over his shoulder. “At least, there was when I was child. I remember it well.”

Kieran scoffs. “When you were a child? That could have been three hundred years ago in mortal time.”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s gone.” He shrugs a shoulder, though there’s a hint of sadness around his eyes. “Maybe we can still find something worth salvaging there. A place to seek refuge, shelter, at the very least.”

My skin prickles, the tops of my ears tingling.

There’s magic at work here.

It’s not the Dark Queen’s either.

The unfamiliar rub of it sends goosebumps prickling across my purple skin, and I squint into the distance, where my fae sight can just make out the merry puffs of smoke in the distance.

The perfume of magic, I think, comes from there.

Exactly where Ga’Rek seemed to think there would still be a village.

“We should go,” I say, stabbing the fish on a stick into the ground and rubbing my hands together. “I do so love mortals. A good plan, ‘Rek.”

He grins at me before taking my abandoned fish and swallowing the rest whole.

Kieran just looses a long-suffering sigh, his iridescent beetle wings reflecting the sunlight.

“This is not what I remember,” Ga’Rek chokes out, staring all around with a wide-eyed enthusiasm that’s contagious. His tusks are on full display as he grins, clearly delighted with the flourishing mortal settlement.

Not just humans, either—I’m pleased to know I was right about the source of the magic tickling the tips of my ears.

There is magic here. Real magic, different than the illusions of the Dark Queen. It’s a cat curling around my shins, butting its head against me for attention. It’s so strong it’s seeped into the cobblestones, which line the network of streets throughout the vibrant town.

“Wild Oak Woods,” Kieran announces, his wings buzzing in their green casing. “Smells like witches.”

“Smells like fucking pastries,” Ga’Rek adds enthusiastically. “Smells fucking delicious.”

I’m not sure if it’s the heady mortal magic in the air or the scent of sugar and butter—but Ga’Rek is right.

It smells incredible, and tantalizing, and perfect, and I’ve never been one to deny any of my impulses.

That would go against my wicked Unseelie heritage. I wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I like it.” I inhale deeply, as if I can suck the very source of the incredible scent straight into my lungs.

The uneven cobblestone streets are impeccably clean, compared to the bigger mortal cities out east, and an absolute plethora of boutiques and restaurants and taverns crowd along the path. Each boasts glossy clear windows, expensive windows. I run the tip of my tongue over one fang, delighting in the excess. Colorful signage shouts out the wares in gilded lettering above striped awnings.

The streets aren’t bustling, not now, at least, but with the wicker lanterns swaying in the gentle breeze above, I have a feeling these streets are fuller when daylight wanes.

Oh yes, I like this place very, very much.

“There is mischief to be made here,” I declare.

“I want whatever is causing that smell.” Ga’Rek’s stomach growls in agreement, and even Kieran smiles slightly.

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