Page 19 of A Fae in Finance
After I put the new shirt on, I picked him up and nuzzled his face. He licked my chin and wiggled until I put him down on the bed.
Then I picked him up again and took him to the door.
“Ready,” I said, hefting Doctor Kitten in one arm and opening the door with the other hand. Sahir frowned at me.
“You are not bringing the cat, are you?”
“I am bringing the cat.” I set my jaw and glared at him.
He sighed in a way that indicated decades of suffering.
“I’m sorry you’re inconvenienced by my kidnapping, Sahir,” I said. “Please feel free to release me at any time.”
“You do not seem to understand.” He stalked down the hall, farther into the hill. I glanced in the direction of the exit but couldn’t see any light.
“You said that last night.” I shifted Doctor Kitten so I was cradling him like a baby. He stuck his white front paws in the air, toe beans on display, and lolled his head over my forearm.
“It was true last night as well.”
“Thenexplain,” I snapped.
Sahir’s jaw set, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “Perhaps humans cannot understand. Faeries arejustandfair. If the Princeling committed a wrong against you, he will make it right. And if he detained you from your chosen path, he did so for a reason.”
Itsked a hopefully dubioustskbut had nothing to say. Sahir was just a guy on the other end of a customer service line: fundamentally powerless, shoved into my path so I could abuse him verbally and encounter the manager completely exhausted.
He glanced down at me, brow furrowed. “You did not call the police last night.”
I jerked to a stop. “What on earth would the police do against faeries?” I imagined a bevy of police officers pouring into Central Park and then maundering about on their Segways, looking for a glimmer of light, a tear in the fabric of human reality.
“You have not told anyone.” It wasn’t a question.
“Creepy that you know that, but no, I haven’t, because I’m hoping you’ll all come to your senses and let me go.”
“I know you. Will you tell any humans?” He sounded curious but not concerned.
I wanted very desperately to ask questions, likeCan we reprioritize for a moment?orDo you feel that your unfailing trust in your leader is truly warranted?But I needed Sahir on my side if I was to get out of here. So instead, I said, “Jeff knows.”
He shrugged. “Your colleagues may know,” he said, trailing a hand along the wall. “But they are unlikely to care.”
Ouch.
Specks of dirt dusted down in his wake.
Sahir turned right at a break in the corridor and led me along an identical brown hallway, lit at intervals by chittering will-o’-the-wisps. They swooped and dipped down from the ceiling like hawks riding imperceptible air currents, tiny bodies subsumed by their own luminescence. I squinted but couldn’t discern their shapes.
Instead of continuing to batter my own self-esteem, I suavely changed the subject.
“Don’t they get bored?” I asked, nodding at one.
He looked at me. “Who?”
“The, uh, lights.”
Frowning, he stopped in front of a large wooden door. “This is our communal dining hall. Do not embarrass yourself.”
“I don’t want to eat faerie food,” I protested.
“It is a little late for that.” He pushed and the door swung inward. “And I do not know if the will-o’-the-wisps get bored, Miriam. Do pigeons get bored? I suppose you will have to ask them.”
