Page 29 of A Fae in Finance
“Are you just saying you’ll do that now, and then you’re going to put it off?” she asked.
“While that is certainly my modus operandi, no, Mom, I am not just saying that.”
I could hear her chewing on a pen cap over the phone. “Do you want me to come get you?”
The thought of my mother storming Faerie with nothing but a pocket full of used tissues and her force of will gave me major anxiety. “Not yet, Mom. But I’ll let you know. I love you.”
I hung up before she could say anything else and levered myself upright.
“I’m gonna get lunch, Doctor Kitten,” I said. “Do you want to come?” I walked toward the door, but he stayed on the windowsill, staring out at two strange-looking gold birds who’d come to roost on the other side of the magic barrier.
“Okay, traitor.” I opened the door and turned left. Then I paused.
Maybe lunch could wait… maybe I should be exploring the mountain to find secrets or a way out instead.
Sure, if I wanted to get eaten by a dragon or locked in a cave or turned into a flower or some nonsense.
I started down the corridor, forcing myself to observe more. I counted the wooden doors on my left, at least, to get a sense of where I was so I could find my way back.
One. Two. Three.
One of the will-o’-the-wisps darted away from the wall and floated next to my cheek. I glanced over. He was a tiny humanoid creature but had six limbs, the two extra protrusions coming from his midtorso like a fly’s. He had a fly’s eyes, too, multifaceted and refracting extra light. I couldn’t tell where the glow came from—maybe it was all over his skin. He also wore something that looked like a diaper made from an acorn.
“Hi,” I said. He cocked his tiny head. If he recognized human speech, he didn’t give any indication.
I came to the break in the corridor and realized I had stopped counting doors. With a sigh, I turned right, determined to pay better attention this time. The will-o’-the-wisp followed along, brightening as we got closer to the dining hall.
When I pushed the door, warm and rough beneath my fingers, my new friend flew inside without a backward glance, giving off spurts of bright light like Morse code.
I followed slowly, staring around the room. It was fuller than it had been in the morning, and again everyone turned to look at me. Gulping and trying to make myself look small, I hurried over to the buffet line and grabbed a tray.
The same three people stood serving food. This time, I tried to keep my gaze down at the food as I passed, though it was still hard not to glance at them.
The first faerie didn’t put anything on my tray and scowled again when I stopped. She had slitted pupils and vivid green scales on her cheeks. She appeared to be serving bowls of a thick brown soup. I could see something like peas and potatoes floating in the pot, which resembled the sort of witches’ cauldron a high school production ofMacbethwould splurge on.
The second faerie, when I approached, stared down at his platter of sandwiches—sandwiches?—but pushed one toward me. I picked it up and put it on the tray.
The third had blue eyes shattered through with gray lines like shards of broken glass. He met my gaze. He put a bowl of leafy vegetables in blues and greens onto my tray. And he smiled. He smiled like a gift, with a wall of blinding white teeth against his pink lips. Shocked, I felt my mouth turn up in response.
“Lady,” he said, with a gracious half bow.
“Thanks,” I croaked. I felt his eyes follow me back to the same table where I had sat that morning. It made the other eyes feel lighter.
As I sank onto the stool, I felt a rush of wind, and suddenly the Princeling sat across from me, the Gray Knight on his left and the Crone standing behind him. He’d changed into less formal clothes than he’d worn earlier—a plain green shirt, darker than his eyes, and soft trousers. “Lady of the True Dreams,” he said with a kind smile. I wondered if it was genuine.
“Princeling.” I inclined my head but couldn’t keep the irritation off my face. He saw it and his mouth twisted.
“How do you find your accommodations?” he inquired, politely. I wondered what would happen if I punched him in the face.
On his left, the Gray Knight cracked her knuckles like she could hear my thoughts. She was wearing a pewter gray blouse, and it made her hair shine against her shoulders like a river in moonlight. I mean, to be honest, she was just very pretty.
“Does my hospitality lack?” the Princeling prompted. I flushed and turned my face away from the Gray Knight.
“I—” I stopped. Would he pull our contract if I was rude?
Did I care at this point?
I imagined trying to interview for a new job while in Faerie.
