Page 18 of Faking with the Fae King

Growing up in a half-dead realm, I never imagined there could be trees such as this. It wasn’t until I visited Alarria and its vibrant forests a couple of months ago that I finally realized the full extent of what the Dark God had stolen from us. Fromme.

So when the orcs and humans banded together to defeat him, I fought on their side instead of his, freeing the shadow fae from his control. We forge a new future now, one filled with life instead of war.

I land at the edge of the forest, marveling again at how it borders downtown instead of being covered by human houses, as if this entire area has always been meant for the fae. Pulling my shadows back into my tattoos, I stride onto Main Street, determined to spend my first piece of goldsampling human bread.

Instead of finding any sort of open breakfast eatery, I walk past one closed shop after another. My stomach growls a hungry demand. How can this place call itself a town if there’s no bakery? It’s a travesty!

Visions of buttery rolls dance in my head, taunting me. It turns out being a conquering king had perks I never realized—like the brownie bakers pressed into service in the palace kitchens. It was wrong to keep them like that, but goddess, I miss that perfect bread…

I turn at the end of the street and make my way up the other side of the green, with no better luck.

This will not do. This will not do atall.

It seems Hannah did not lie—Ferndale Falls does indeed need new businesses if I’m to enjoy my stay here. And it sure as fuck needs a bakery.

I leap into the air and streak back to the palace, flying so quickly that wind whistles in my ears.

“Varyn!” I bellow as soon as I step into the grand foyer. His name echoes off the gleaming white marble and bounces outward in all the connecting rooms and corridors.

“What?” an irritated voice calls from a distance.

I glare at the opening to the hallway that leads off the second-floor balcony until he comes into view, his long silver hair sleep-mussed, his shirt hanging from one shoulder.

“Where are you on finding businesses for Ferndale Falls?”

“You mean the thing I only learned about yesterday?” he says, his tone sardonic. “Fae aren’t that interested in uprooting themselves and moving realms, especially sincethe humans expect rent and fees.”

“Tell the fae I’ll cover the start-up costs,” I growl. “Now get me some businesses.”

“I have a lead on a leatherworker.”

“That can wait.” I scowl and chop a hand through the air. “Focus on eateries. We need them immediately, unless you plan to work the palace kitchens yourself.”

“Fine, yes. You’ve made your point.” He snorts and shrugs his shirt over his shoulders. “I’ll go now.”

“Prioritize a bakery!” I yell at his retreating back.

An hour later, I wait beside a rock formation covered with crystals. Trees ring the small clearing, and the sound of the waterfall joins with that of wind-rustled leaves to create a pleasing whole. I can see why the humans chose to put the door to Faerie here, since it feels secretive while only being a short walk from town.

The first person to step through the door is a cat sith, padding on all fours in their feline form. Long black fur shades to gray at the tips, swirling in the breeze and making the big cat hard to see, even though they stand as tall as a wolf. Green eyes dance with mischief as they grin a too-wide grin.

“Well, well. I had to see it for myself,” a masculine voice says. “The fae king arranging bakeries and pubs. I hear you’re even willing to pay all the start-up costs. My, how the mightyhave fallen.”

“Name yourself, cat,” I snarl.

“Tsk. Is that any way to talk to someone you want to work for you?” He bares even more of his teeth and shifts into his fae form. He’s tall and well muscled, with skin as pale as mine and long hair that shades from black to silver-tipped. The shift has left him completely naked. “I’m Shadow.”

“I’m King Severin.” I fight back my sneer, annoyed that I’ve let him rile me. Our stories make it clear that cat sith are infamously jesting to the point of irritation, but I’ve had little contact with them until now. “Which are you, a baker or pubkeeper?”

“Neither.”

“So what good are you to me?”

He shifts again, this time to his dual form, an upright, fur-covered cat. It’s his most formidable form, even more heavily muscled than his fae form. The werepanther leans a shoulder against a tree and stares at his hand in fascination, making his wicked claws extend and retract repeatedly. “I can act as your messenger in Alarria. I know my way around, and people know me.”

Alarria’s the world where orcs and other fae lived for hundreds of years without the threat of the Dark God. It has replaced Avalon, my home, as the premiere realm of Faerie. Even worse, shadow fae are not welcome there. I told Varyn to use glamours and illusions to sneak in, but the feline fae is right. I hate it, but if I want to attract the fae of Alarria, I could use Shadow’s help.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy for him. “You? You’ll be too slow.” I snort. “You can’t fly.”

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