Page 46 of Faking with the Fae King

It turns out I utterly despise being lectured to.

But I grit my teeth and bear through it. I refuse to lose access to Earth and its forests. And I never want to see that defeated look on Hannah’s face again.

By the time I pick her up at her cottage that evening, I have a new approach in mind.

After a quick flight into town, I land in the middle of the green and escort Hannah in a slow amble down Main Street, her hand tucked into my elbow.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re having dinner together. I hear courting human couples do this all the time,” I say. “Now close your eyes.” Shadows slip from the arm she holds to make a blindfold.

Her fingers brush over them, sending a shiver of sensation racing through me. “I closed my eyes.”

“Yes, but this means nothing will spoil the surprise.”

I lead her closer to Slice of Life, and the pixie on lookout rises into the air with a flutter of excited wings before diving through the front door. A flurry of whisper-yells comes from inside the restaurant, but Hannah doesn’t make any indication that she can hear them.

By the time we reach the door, all is quiet with anticipation. I guide her inside, then drop the shadow blindfold.

“Surprise!” Pixies and people yell from all across the room.

Hannah’s mouth falls open, her eyes widening with delight. She clutches at my arm as if staggered. “Severin, what is this?”

“It’s Ferndale Falls’s newest restaurant, now open for business.” Shadow fae already fill many of the wooden tables, eating flat, triangular pieces of bread covered in a variety of toppings. In the lower light of evening, the deep-yellow walls glow with all the warmth of the setting sun. The pixies have painted a reoccurring motif of ferns and fiddleheads along the bottom of the walls, and if you look closely, little faces peek out, some animal, some various forms of tiny fae. Although nothing like the grand palace I grew up in, the rustic hominess has its own charm.

“Welcome to Slice of Life.” Blue flies forward to hover in front of us. “Right this way. We’ve saved you the best seats in the house.”

She leads us to the table centered right in front of the pizzeria’s wide window, where we can look out over the green, and any passersby can look in and see us on our date. “Choose your toppings, and I will have your pizza in the oven in no time.”

I glance at the menu and set it aside, gesturing to Hannah. “Since I’m unfamiliar with this type of food, you pick.”

“Pepperoni and extra cheese,” she says without thought. Then she gives me a wry smile. “It’s kind of basic.”

“No, it’s a classic!” Blue zooms to the kitchen, and four pixies fly an uncorked bottle of red wine to our table.

I pour for the two of us, then lift my glass. As soon as Hannah raises hers, I say, “Here’s to the first of many successful endeavors for Ferndale Falls.”

“To Ferndale Falls.” She clinks her glass to mine and takes a sip, her eyes widening. “Oh, this is good.”

“It should be,” I say. “It’s one of the finest from my cellars.” I roll the wine over my tongue, enjoying its full-bodied fruitiness that ends with the dry finish of lingering smoke.

As daylight fades, the pixies light candles, bringing one to our table.

“So, Severin.” Tiny flames dance in Hannah’s eyes as she smiles at me. She pulls out her phone and taps at the screen. “I found a bunch of first-date questions and thought we could use them to get to know one another.”

How appropriate, since this is indeed the first date I’ve ever been on. I ask, “What sorts of questions?”

She leans forward and whispers, “Most of this is stuff we should know if we want to convince people we’re actually engaged.”

“Weareactually engaged. It’s simply a mutually beneficial arrangement instead of an emotional one.”

“Yeah, but people expect it to be emotional, which you already know, or you wouldn’t keep kissing me in front of everyone.” Her cheeks turn red, and she picks up her wine and takes a drink to try to cover her embarrassment.

Interesting. It seems my enchanting little witch likes my kisses.

“Very well.” I tip my head. “Ask your questions.”

She starts simply, asking about colors and food. I answer green and brownie bread, while hers are pink and cinnamon rolls. Easy enough.

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