Page 10 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

My eyes well with tears, and I hunch my shoulders. Fenn pushes his cold, wet nose against my ankle, his fluffy tail wrapping around my other leg. Caelan’s watching me still, his pale eyes narrowed.

Piper claps her hands loudly and I inhale with a shudder, grateful she’s pulled attention off the fresh tears. I wipe my fingers along my eyes, hoping no one’s seen my distress.

“Isley is for sure where you should start. If nothing else, she can probably use the help getting her goods from farm to market. I think she was talking about starting a small restaurant too…” She keeps talking, but I’m only half-listening, trying to stop the angry tears that threaten.

I glance around, pleased to see two of the three are fixed on whatever Piper’s saying.

Caelan, however, narrows his eyes at me, the smile that played along his lips disappearing as I dab at the stupid tears.

Mortified, I decide to ignore him completely.

He probably only wants to take advantage of whatever he perceives this weakness to be; he’s probably just looking for a way in.

That’s the Unseelie way. Bargains and tricks and promises they do everything in their power to keep the upper hand in.

I sit up ramrod straight. That won’t be happening to me, thank you very much.

No matter how pretty their packaging, how compelling their story, I will not be taken in. Nope.

Though, I have to admit, upon closer inspection, the three seem a bit worse for wear.

Their clothes are rumpled, not polished finery, and there’s a hunted look in their eyes. Maybe they really are just looking for a new place to live. Caelan in particular seems to be doing his best imitation of tired innocence, and the orc, though completely overwhelmingly huge, seems genuine enough.

“What about the apothecary?” I force myself to ask, unwilling to utter Willow’s name. Last thing I need is to give these fae another name. Goddess only knows what they’d do with it.

My skin prickles at the knowledge they have mine.

“She could use some help finding some of the more rare herbs and?—”

“Perfect,” Caelan says quickly. “Perfect. The—” He clears his throat, pausing. “Kieran is excellent at finding things like that. It’s in his nature.” He says this as an aside to me, a conspiratorial slant to his smile.

I take another bite of the honey-sweet bread, staring him down as I chew meaningfully. See? I want to tell him. Bread and salt. You can’t hurt me.

I don’t trust you.

Kieran, the winged fae, buzzes in slight outrage, his cheeks turning a brighter purple.

“Don’t deny it, Kieran,” Ga’Rek says, putting a particular emphasis on the name. “You have a singular way with plants. The apothecary would be a good fit.”

Kieran scowls at Ga’Rek, who just huffs a laugh and slathers a piece of bread with Piper’s homemade butter, spiked with more honey—a spell for pleasant thoughts, if I know her.

And I do.

“And what do you do, witchling?” Caelan leans further forward, and I taste the scent of magic clinging to him.

I cant my head at him, annoyed with his presumptive tone, as well as the stupid nickname. “It’s been a long time since I was a witchling. You already have my name, anyway.”

“Well,” he says the word slowly, positively beaming at me. “I might have your name, but I have better manners than to use it without your permission.”

I glance at Piper, and she cringes slightly, nodding. Right. No help there.

“You can call me Wren,” I say delicately. “Do you plan on doing something with my name, Caelan of the Underhill?” There’s as much brave challenge in that question as I can muster.

I am a fantastic jeweler, a fact I take heart in despite the guild’s rejection, and a great enchantress of jewels and metals.

But there’s not much in my witchy arsenal that would be effective against this man—a fact I’m all too aware of at the moment.

“Wren,” he says slowly, dragging the syllable out in a way that makes my heart flutter strangely. “I think you’ll find that all I want to do with your name is speak it with pleasure.”

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