Page 8 of Harnessed in Gold

“Um—” I rub my eyes again, involuntarily, like a sleepy three-year-old.

“Go home and take a nap,” he says kindly. “And come back when you’re… refreshed.”

“Um, okay, I guess.” I hoist my suitcase. “But don’t worry about driving me home. I can take the bus.”

He grabs his jacket off the back of a dining-room chair. “It’s no problem.”

I grit my teeth and stifle my sigh. There’s no point in arguing. I’ll see him tonight and probably tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that and… well, ad infinitum, until we find this macguffin.

CHAPTER TWO

Leo turns leftout of the apartment complex and onto the two-lane highway, looking at ease with one hand on the top of the steering wheel and the other resting casually in his lap.

“How did you learn to drive?” I ask him. Because based on what Rime told me about Nàdar, I don’t think they have cars there. I’m not even sure they have electricity.

“I’ve been visiting your realm for years. It’s not easy to get around here if you don’t know how to drive.”

“But Rime said the fae almost never come here.”

“Most don’t.” He slows to a stop at a red light and turns to look at me. “But there’s a small group of us who do. It’s our job.”

So there’s a Nàdarian CIA? My jaw goes slack. “You’re a spy?”

When one corner of his mouth twitches, I have to fight the urge to slap a hand over it. Not because he’s laughing at me, but because there’s affection in his amusement, and affection is a feeling he’s not allowed to have.

“I’m not a spy, I’m an anthropologist.” The light turns green and he presses the gas. “And no, that’s not a euphemism. I really am a scholar and researcher.”

“You don’t have anything to research in Nàdar?”

“Plenty. But fae and humans are kin. We have a history of interacting with one another and with your world. We try to keep up with your current events, arts, literature, science?—”

“Why?” From what I understand, the Nàdarians aren’t putting any of that knowledge to use.

Leo sighs and sucks in his cheeks. “There’s a lot we can learn from you.”

I get it. I’m not stupid. “You mean you can learn a lot about whatnotto do.”

He grips the wheel and remains silent.

“Is it that bad here? Are we humans that awful?” I know we can be, but so, apparently, can the fae.

“There are those who think so.”

Such a diplomatic reply. “Doyouthink so?”

His eyes cut from the road to lock with mine. “No.”

Burning under his gaze, I turn my attention to the trees flying past my window. Their bare branches reach feebly for the grey-green sky. Brown, patchy grass lines the shoulder of the road. It’s late February and all of nature looks tired. Even the ubiquitous squirrels are skinny and slow.

A thought occurs to me, bringing with it a rush of mortification. “So coming here for research—is that what you meant when you said you went to Oxford?”

“I do go to Oxford, all the time.” He looks away, ostensibly to gaze out his side window. “Just not as a student.”

Zander’s accusation rings in my head,You a senior? Junior? Grad student, maybe? BecauseI couldn’t find you registered here at Brownhill.

“Like how you’re not a studenthere?” I snap.

Leo has the grace to frown and turn almost as pink as me. If he weren’t glamoured right now, would that flush reach the tips of his pointed ears?