Page 13 of A Fae in Finance
“Sit by me,” he said to Jeff. I looked at Jeff, not sure whether to follow, but someone grabbed my arm.
“You’ll sit with us,” Sahir said, his breath tickling my ear. I stiffened, but he pulled me toward the other end of the table, next to the Gray Knight. When I looked up, a crowd of people I’d never seen before had filled the empty chairs.
“It is an honor to dine at the Princeling’s table,” the Gray Knight said in my other ear, almost in warning. “Many supplicants will take a seat, if there are spaces.” She put a hand on my shoulder and guided me onto a stool. Then she slid my backpack from my shoulders before I could protest.
I had to crane my neck to look past Sahir at the Princeling and Jeff. Jeff was already holding a wineglass in one hand and spearing a potato with the other. I felt the bile rising in my throat and tried to say something, but the words caught. If he got stuck here, he’d blame me, but I couldn’t insult our hosts by calling out to him. I tried to signal to Jeff to put the fork down, but he didn’t notice at all.
“The Princeling has provided mortal fare,” the Gray Knight said, clearly following my panicked gaze to Jeff’s potato-filled plate. “Those potatoes are from a place called Idaho.”
When I looked back at my own plate it was full—of something that looked suspiciously like the grain bowl I had had at lunch. A gloop of saffron-colored mango chutney dripped off one of the lentil patties.
I frowned at the Gray Knight. “So the food is…” I didn’t want to saysafe. “For human consumption?”
“You are a human,” she replied slowly, inclining her head. She sounded a bit insulted. “And the food is for your consumption.” Her hair fell forward over her face, a glittering silver curtain separating us. I winced.
“Your caution does you credit, Miri,” Sahir said, putting his hand over mine. His touch burned, and I noticed the cold bite in the air for the first time. I shivered.
He slid his hand up to my shoulder, clear eyes and a single dark curl waving its way down his broad brown cheekbone. He smiled warmly at me.
The Gray Knight ran her hand up my arm to my other shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “Eat,” she said, tilting her chin toward my plate.
Involuntarily, I glanced at Jeff. He caught my eye and waved his fork, flinging some sauce onto the table. The Princeling, grimacing, flicked his index finger and the sauce disappeared in a spray of green sparks.
I looked back at the Gray Knight, torn between concern and the ingrained desire to be a polite and unproblematic guest. “Is this from that grain bowl place below our building?”
She frowned. “I do not know what that means,” she said.
“Miri, it’s delicious,” Jeff shouted, ten decibels louder than anyone else. The entire table fell into an uneasy silence.
The Princeling raised a hand toward me, palm up. “The maiden is discomfited because she fears our food,” he said. “She is wise and just in her concern, but she will not be harmed.”
He’d just turned the table into a stage for our conversation, and the faeries between us were an audience. I looked down, anxious. If I continued not to eat, I’d seem surly and ungrateful, and Jeff would be upset with me.
Instead, I nodded toward the Princeling and Jeff and picked up my fork.
The Princeling nodded back, and the conversations resumed around the table.
“I still don’t know your name,” I told the Gray Knight, staring at my plate. I could feel her and Sahir both looking at me and wished I had worn concealer to the office. I had at least ten red spots on my right cheek. When I leaned forward to get closer to the plate, my waistband strained against my stomach.
“As I said,” she said, soft and stern. “A name is a thing of power. I shall not share mine lightly.”
I cringed. “Sorry.” I stuck the fork into the lentil patty, scooping up some chutney and a bit of rice, too.
I stared at the gooey forkful of food. The forkful of food stared gooily back.
What did the Princeling mean,she will not be harmed? Was there any hidden meaning in there? And the Gray Knight had said it was for human consumption. But what didthatmean?
I snuck a glance upward. Jeff was staring intently at me, fork clenched in his fist. I didn’t need telepathy to know he was thinkingEat it or you’re fired.
Jeff had already demolished his plate of food, and nothing had happened.
I took a bite.
Nothing continued to happen, except that this batch of lentil patties was actually flavorful; the rice had some sort of lovely aromatic in it that filled my nose as I ate, and the chutney on top was sweet and slightly spicy, with bits of juicy mango hitting my back teeth as I savored the bite. The flavors warmed me in a way I hadn’t expected; my limbs were tingly, my stomach sated in a way food court fare doesn’t usually accomplish. I had no idea how they’d managed to get this to taste this good; maybe Sahir had charmed the cashier in a way I couldn’t and actually gotten the delicious stuff they advertised. I’d ask him to order my lunch the next day so I could copy what he did in the future.
“Miriam means no ill,” Sahir said around me, continuing a train of thought I’d almost forgotten. “The humans find titles discomfiting, Gray Knight.”
“Her comfort is not my prerogative.”
