Page 55 of A Fae in Finance
I levered myself onto my elbows and caught Lene’s eye.
“I need to get back to work,” I said, standing up.
Sahir stayed on the floor, Doctor Kitten in his lap. “Can I move the creature?” he asked, though he didn’t sound hopeful.
“No!” Lene and I both said.
I sat at my desk and turned my computer on to see fifty-seven unread emails. I stared out the window. “So vampires can live here? In Faerie?”
“Yes, many reside here,” Gaheris said. “They like it because we have no sun. But I do not have many vampire friends.” He sounded so sad it made my own heart ache.
“Which is very understandable,” Lene said. She did not sound sympathetic in the least.
Sahir, in his signature move, sighed. “If you had ever paid attention in a science class, Gaheris, you would know that vampires have a moisture content of fifteen percent. If you had a moisture content of fifteen percent, you would not like fire faeries either.”
I wanted to ask about faerie science class, but then I would never get my work done.
After a few minutes, their conversation became a pleasant hum in the background as I slogged through my emails, routing requests where they needed to go and answering questions when I could.
When we went to dinner, we sat in a group; it was better having them around me. We didn’t see Milo or the Princeling, and on the way back to my room, Lene told me she was only three doors down.
It was almost a nice evening. But when I looked at my phone, I had missed a call from my dad, three from my mom, four texts from Thea and Jordan, an Instagram message from a guy I dated a while ago, and a dinner invitation from my Games Games Games group.
I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the months and years ahead, as the messages slowed to a trickle and then stopped.
I scrunched my eyes shut against the other low, insistent thought thrumming underneath. When that didn’t stop it, I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. But the thought pounded through, rising up the way it did in the most vulnerable moments.
You aren’t helping anybody.
So I got ready for bed and then slipped under the soft duvet, well aware I had hours of work left to do and unable to make myself care.
That night, my dreams were full of unfamiliar Fae: a faerie who looked like a young man with wide white angel wings, staring down at me with desperation on his face; the snake-eyed cafeteria worker standing in a wooded clearing with a drawn dagger held aloft, her face contorted in a snarl; a faerie with a ridge of horns around his face like a triceratops.
I slept restlessly.
One week after I agreed to the Princeling’s bargain, I stood in the middle of the cafeteria, looking at the faces of the seven participants who’d shown up to Faerie’s very first human class.
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or offended by the poor attendance: Two nights before, Lene had made me take a half hour away from work to trail the cicada faerie (his name was Schubert) around the Court while he screamed at irregular intervals. We’d been part of a crowd of at least eighty people.
Sahir, Lene, Gaheris, and the Gray Knight made up four of the seven. The other three were Milo, an oddly familiar guy with white wings named Kellen, and Kellen’s unhappy horned friend Caraya.
Schubert had not reciprocated my proffered support. I vowed to never again listen to him shriek.
“Hi, everyone,” I said. “Thanks for coming.”
Since everyone sat at one table, I decided to join them. I pulled out a stool and sank down at the head of the table.
“I don’t have an agenda today. Does anyone have any questions?”
Milo raised his hand.
“Anyone else?”
Milo shot me a look of betrayal.
“Milo,” I sighed.
“Why did the chicken cross the road?” he asked, his gorgeous blue eyes twinkling. And then he doubled over in hysterical laughter.
