Page 56 of A Fae in Finance
“Thanks, Milo,” I said. “Moving on.”
The Gray Knight glanced sharply at me. “You are to answer all questions, lady,” she said. “To the querent’s satisfaction.”
“All questions from thefaeries,” I said, exasperated and thinking about the presentation Jeff wanted me to edit later that night. “Milo’s a human.”
Milo’s face fell. He looked away from the table, at the buffet station where he stood every day and served the Court.
“Milo is of our Court,” the Gray Knight snapped.
I stared at my own chipped, unpainted nails, fighting a wash of guilt.
“The chicken crossed the road to get to the other side, Milo,” I said. “And that’s a good segue into jokes, so thank you for the suggestion.”
“We understand jokes,” Sahir said, his face in his work laptop.
Only nine years, eleven months, and three weeks, I reminded myself.
“Okay, sorry,” I said aloud. “Does anyone have other questions?”
Caraya tapped sharp black talons on the wooden tabletop. “What is a human’s mortal weakness?” she asked, in the tone of a teenager trying to scare a substitute teacher out of their county’s school system.
“What did the chicken want to do on the other side?” Gaheris asked, in the tone of a teenager puzzling out a stoichiometry problem.
“Was the chicken edible?” Lene asked, in the tone of a teenager who wanted dinner.
I locked eyes with the Gray Knight. Her eyes were so beautiful, silvery and reflective, dazzlingly bright. I could see the challenge in her set jaw, the quirk of one eyebrow. Could I answer all of these questions satisfactorily?
“In reverse order: probably, he was visiting a friend, and most things.”
“Most thingsis too vague,” Caraya said.
Neither Gaheris nor Lene had follow-ups.
“Well, you can stab a human with almost any sharp object in a wide range of places on their body. You can suffocate, drown, or poison them. You can starve or dehydrate a human. I’m not really sure what you’re asking, Caraya.”
She tossed her head, curls bouncing. A ringlet got stuck on one of the curving black horns protruding from either side of her head. I stared at it, mesmerized. “Perhaps a food that humans cannot eat, or a metal they cannot touch.”
I shook myself. “I have a nickel allergy,” I volunteered. “But it just gives me a rash.”
Sahir groaned.
“And I guess humans can’t eat sulfuric acid,” I said.
This at last mollified her. She nodded and snapped her mouth shut with finality.
“Is there a food faeries can’t eat?” I asked, wondering why she’d pushed the issue.
“Yes?” Caraya looked confused, brow furrowed. “It is why we had to—”
“Adjourned,” the Gray Knight intoned, standing with alacrity.
The six others shoved their chairs back from the table in one motion, silent. She watched as they filed from the room. Sahir lingered by the saloon doors.
So much for two hours. I didn’t think it’d been two minutes.
The Gray Knight looked at me. “Next time, come prepared,” she said, and stalked out.
Two days later, fresh off a fire drill at work where I’d created a frankly spectacular, flawlessly researched, and completely errorless pitch deck in under thirty-six hours, Sahir reminded me that my next human class was in approximately one hour.
