Page 104 of Crown of the Fae King

The fact that Griffon was a fairy—and I wouldn’t doubt Wickham’s eyesight—meant all our secrets were in danger—from me. I just couldn’t keep my guard up around that man. So I looked into Wickham’s eyes and told him, “I’d rather you didn’t.”

One conversationin particular came back to haunt me that night, and I realized Griffon had been trying to tell me from the beginning…

“Ah, such a pity. I was hopingyouwere a fairy.”

“Me?”

“Out of curiosity, I went back to see what books you were readin’. The notions of a fairy heaven and hell? Dry stuff, that, unless ye happen to be Fae. So aye, I had hoped.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. I’m just a boring old American.”

“Never boring. I was starting to think Oxford was the dullest place on earth, what with all the children running back and forth between classes and pubs day and night. But then you came along and brightened it all up. Gave me a mystery to solve.”

A pity I wasn’t a fairy—or we might have made the perfect pair.

A thought brought me out of bed. I grabbed my robe and ran to the boys wing, to Flann’s room. I knocked softly on the door and prayed he was still awake.

He was.

“What is it, lass?”

“Do you still have any of those books you checked out of the Bod?”

He swung the door wide, then pointed to a pile of books on a desk against the wall.

“It’ll be faster if I don’t explain,” I said, to excuse my intrusion. “Just looking for one in particular…” I skimmed the spines, looking for a rust colored one. I found it in the second stack, and Flann was there to lift the other books away, so I could grab it. “Commonalities between Fae Lore and Christianity…by Griffon Carew.”

The notions of a fairy heaven and hell? Dry stuff, that, unless ye happen to be Fae.

He hadn’t been talking about me. He’d been talking about himself.

42

There, In The Fine Print

“The problem is the same. Ye cannae acknowledge him as a fairy without explaining how ye know. And it’s not something a normal mortal would ever believe. Only an Uncast—”

“I know. I know.” I covered my ears to keep from hearing it again. “I’m just saying that we could probably think of a way through this if we take the time—”

“We’ve been trying for hours,” Wickham said. “We need food. We’ll work on something else when we come back. Maybe we’re tryin’ too hard and need to get out of our own way.”

His patient smile told me he saw through my argument. He knew I was just looking for an excuse to call Griffon. But if we were going to get to the Fae King, or even find out where he was, it would have to be through the only friendly fairy we knew. And the only one who matched that description was only reachable by phone.

“I’m pitiful,” I said, and plopped down next to Kitch on the veranda. Our lunch had been laid out for us in the sunshine. Persi was fixing her plate.

“Ye’re not pitiful. Ye’re in love. Nothin’ pitiful about that. What’s pitiful is what ye fail to do about it.”

I caught him watching Persi while he spoke. She sat on the far end of the fat stone steps with her face to the sun, her eyes shut, her red curls glistening with copper threads.

“You too, huh?”

“What?” He mocked surprise. “I dinnae ken what ye’re talkin’ about.” Then he winked.

I laughed. “You Scots are all alike. You communicate through winking. One wink, every time. There isn’t even a code to it.”

“Aye,” he said.

“Aye.” “Aye. “Aye!” Urban, Wickham, and one of the Youngs sang out.

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