Page 19 of How To Please A Princely Fae

"How? I didn't think the fae could form a mate bond with any species other than our own."

“How do you even remember that?” I ask, throwing up my hands. Goddess, this is the worst. Is he trying to form a mate bond with me?

I blow out a harsh breath and try to rein in my emotions.

It’s either that or just start screaming and never stop.

Wren elbows Caelan sharply in the ribs before he can form a reply, but he doesn't seem to care, simply grinning at her pointedly before turning back to Kieran.

"You seem very interested in mating someone who isn't fae," he says casually. His eyes glitter, belying his latent amusement.

Wren elbows him again, harder this time.

I make a mental note to buy some more jewelry from her. And maybe ask to be tutored on how to control a wayward fae.

“Are you considering a permanent bond to your croissant? Perhaps splitting her open and buttering her?”

Outrage fills me.

Wren utters his name in a deadly tone, and this time, he winces.

It’s too late, though.

Now I’m mad.

"I have had enough," I sputter. "Your friend, the friend that you followed from the Underhill to Wild Oak Woods, has amnesia. Amnesia. Memory loss. And it’s caused by some magic that I don't understand, and all you can do is make terrible jokes at his expense about me? It wasn’t even a good joke. Your material needs work."

Caelan opens his mouth to respond, looking wounded at my criticism more than my reprimand, but I raise a hand and cut him off before he has the chance to say anything.

My hand stops just short of making contact with his face.

Truly, I should win a prize for my inhuman restraint.

"You should be ashamed of yourself; he is supposed to be your friend. Something terrible has happened, and all you can do is whatever sad excuse for humor this is?”

“My humor is honed in dark fae magic?—”

“SAVE YOUR PASTRY JOKES FOR SOMEONE ELSE,” I bellow.

Kieran’s fingers tighten on my shoulder.

Slowly, they run down over the fabric of my sleeve to rest on my elbow, and he presses me tighter against him.

My chest heaves from the indignity of it all. And the fact that I’m slightly out of breath from screaming.

Well, everyone in the tent is certainly staring now.

Nerissa’s watching the whole affair unfold with interest, picking profiteroles off a platter and popping them in her mouth at regular intervals.

"I can be two things at once," Caelan tells me.

There's an air of insouciant superiority about him, and it reminds me of all the stories my mother and her coven told me about the fae when I was but a young girl.

That the fae are mercurial, that they are not to be trusted, and above all that they care nothing for us humans, witches or not.

I turn my attention to Wren, curious how she can stand to be around the trickster at all, much less romantically involved with him. Forever. While she seems slightly exasperated with Caelan, Wren doesn't seem overly offended by his antics.

On the contrary, she's glancing between Kieran and me as though she's seeing us both for the first time.

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