Page 24 of Faking with the Fae King

A half hour later, I find myself standing on Main Street with a couple of my best conjurers while the pixies lead us to the storefront they want.

“This one!” The leader flutters up to the door of a closed café, the windows dusty and dark, the colorful siding sun-faded to a soft blue.

My shadows unfurl, sliding into the lock and opening it. With a wave of my hand, the door swings inward.

The flock pours inside, their combined glow lighting the interior and proving me right—they are indeed excellent light sources.

I barely refrain from saying as much as I weave between square wooden tables with upturned chairs resting on theirtops. The stale smell of dust makes my nose itch. I could be rampaging across a battlefield instead of this. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

“My people will refurbish as you see fit, and I will pay your initial rent,” I say. “But after that, it will be up to you to run your business successfully. Do you have the funds to do so?”

The leader pipes a high whistle of pixie speech not slowed down for my benefit, then says, “We do.”

All around her, each member of the flock pulls out a gold piece from that secret place they store things. The coins look massive in their diminutive arms, weighing enough to pull each pixie toward the ground as their wings strain against the sudden increase in mass.

“Very well.” I turn to my conjurers and nod.

They lift their hands, and magic blasts outward in an explosion of power. It’s a spell of rejuvenation, restoring everything to its original, pristine state. All of the furniture gleams, the finish restored to show off the lovely wood grain. The walls glow with fresh color, becoming the rich gold of a warm sunset. Human lights flicker on overhead, burning with a steady brightness no candle can match.

We move into the kitchen, and another pulse of rejuvenation magic sweeps across the room, leaving behind sparkling countertops and cupboards and restoring all of the human machinery to brand new. Several large metal boxes begin to hum, and Shadow opens the door of one to release a blast of cold air. I run my fingers across the steel surface, detecting no ice-fae magic. It seems humans really did develop some interesting abilities over the past few centuries.

“Now the outside!” The pixies dart back through the dining room. “We want a sign.”

With one additional expenditure of magic, the building’s wooden siding becomes as blue as a summer sky, the fanciful trim a vibrant purple. A sign appears, letters scrolling across its surface as if painted by an invisible hand: Slice of Life.

The pixies cheer and swarm around the sign, like moths pulled to a lantern, but I frown, unable to puzzle its meaning.

“What’s going on?” Hannah calls out.

I spin to find her hurrying toward us across the green. Even human clothing can’t hide how tall and graceful she is, and I have the sudden desire to see her swathed in the lightest of Faerie silks instead, gossamer layers floating around her, offering teasing glimpses of skin.

When she nears the edge of the green, a fox runs out from beneath one of the rhododendrons I conjured yesterday, keeping pace beside her as she crosses the street.

She comes to a stop in front of me, her eyes glued to the building at my back. “What? How? It looks new!”

“My betrothed. It’s so very good to see you.” I step close to press a kiss to her cheek. When she startles with surprise, I clasp her to me to hold her still and cast a quick cloak of silence spell. “Remember, my dear. We need to pretend our betrothal is real.”

“So we need to pretend we’re in loveeverytime we’re in public?” Hannah looks up at me. Her eyes are even more beautiful up close, flecks of gold and radiating lines of black adding a lovely complexity to their rich brown.

“Will that be an issue?” I raise an eyebrow.

She shakes her head, the quick movement brushing her silky hair across the edge of my jaw. “Nope. No prob. I can totally do that.”

“Excellent.” I dismiss the silencing spell and release her to turn toward the building. “I have found the first new business for you, as I promised. It will serve pizza.”

“Pizza!” the pixies shriek, diving from the sign.

Hannah’s eyes go wide.

The fox chuffs and barks, flicking his tail so the bushy white tip waves like a flag.

“Of course I’ll ask,” she says to it, then looks at me. “Are those pixies?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been seeing them for days! Or, okay, notseeing them, seeing them. They keep zipping past me and disappearing out of sight. I worried I was hallucinating!”

I scowl at the little menaces. “Were you toying with a future queen of Faerie?”

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