Page 9 of Crown of the Fae King

“If I’m right, he’ll keep me safe. I think he’ll be able to help me with something, so maybe we can work out a deal. I’ll have to be careful, though, that I don’t end up owing him anything.”

The Scot asked for my keys and said I was in no condition to drive. We would have been better with me behind the wheel, though, since he kept wandering to the wrong side of the road every now and then. We headed east, up the hill and out of town, toward Burley.

“When ye’re good and ready, I’ll show ye a faster way.”

I had driven to Burley often enough to know there was no faster route than the freeway, but I wasn’t going to argue the point.

Farmland stretched out in all directions, but my attention was elsewhere. My eyes were on the road, but all I saw was my little secret, wrapped in my grandma’s embroidered blue handkerchief and hidden beneath a floorboard in front of my closet.

I wasn’t a fool. I knew it was what Wickham Muir had come for.

Since it had been passed down to me, I’d been torn between wanting it out of my life and wishing one day I could have had someone to hand it down to. I’d tried to get rid of it, as my grandma had, but I’d failed. Now, I couldn’t imagine anyone else who could be trusted with it.

There was no telling what a man like Wickham would do with it. And until I knew, I wouldn’t admit I even had it.

After wending our way into the heart of Burley, we stopped at a cheerful yellow building. The sign readPomerelle Place. Wickham opened my car door. “I thought yer friend would appreciate a suite to herself, considering.”

Considering she’d been living in a three-by-six shack for two years?

How the woman kept herself alive through Idaho winters, was anyone’s guess. A year ago, I’d done my best to help insulate Charlotte’s small sanctuary, and I tried to bring her food on a regular basis, but convincing my friend to go to a homeless shelter had proven impossible. Even now, when this stranger was willing to prove it, I couldn’t believe he’d blasted Charlotte out of her home.

Maybe he’d warned her about Andy.

Either way, the woman wasn’t going to be happy…

My guts twisted.The woman Wickham pointed to was not Charlotte. This woman was blond and tiny and having her toenails prepped for paint while she sat back in a fluffy pink robe and grinned at the women fluttering around her.

My friend would have never allowed strangers within ten feet.

This was all just some mean trick that lost me my job and put my friend at risk, especially if Wickham was right about Andy’s weeny roast planned for Charlotte’s shed.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” I hissed, “but don’t you think I would know my own friend?” I spun on my heel and headed back for the maze of hallways that would lead to the exit. “Get your own ride. I’ve got to find Charlotte.”

He didn’t even try to stop me.

“Do I get a pancake today?”

I stopped on a dime. My guts untwisted at the sound of Charlotte’s standard greeting, but when I turned, I didn’t see her. The little blond waved her fingers and those hovering over her stepped away as I closed the distance.

“Charlotte?”

“The one and only.” She held out her arms, obviously proud of her transformation and her fluffy robe.

I shook my head and tried to merge the old version with the new. “You’re a blonde?”

She fluffed a curl below her ear. “I am today. When someone offers you something for free, you order the top of the menu.”

Also, something Charlotte said often.

“When I saw you yesterday—”

“When you saw me yesterday, I hadn’t won the lottery yet, had I?”

“Lottery?”

“The Pomerelle Lottery. I’m set for life, kid.” A tear escaped out the corner of her eye and I realized my face was getting wet too. Someone handed me a tissue and I mopped up.

“I don’t believe it. You’ve suddenly decided you like people?”

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