Page 11 of My Faire Lady

The sprite rolls his unlidded eyes, and the one behind him makes a puppet with her hand, mocking me. Their wings flutter faster than a hummingbird’s, and the rest of their horde hides in the tree leaves—invisible, but eavesdropping nonetheless.

“I’m serious,” I say. “We’re lucky she didn’t twist her ankle on that root yesterday.”

“Fine,” the sprite leader says, his voice barely a squeak. “I won’t do anything to hurt her.”

His counterpart smiles behind him, mischievous, but there’s nothing more I can say. If I boss them around too much, they’ll rearrange my room again, or pour red dye into my laundry.

I blow out a breath. “Thank you.”

They dart into the trees and disappear as the sun crests over the roofline of the faire’s tallest buildings. My stomach loops into a knot. Lottie will be here any minute.

Sunshine bathes the packed dirt, and like yesterday, there’s not a single cloud in the sky. Yet the worry of the impending foreclosure weighs heavy on my shoulders. Opening weekend has always been our busiest, especially when the weather is so nice, yet we barely broke even yesterday.

Boden steps out of the enchanted compound’s front door. It closes behind him and blends seamlessly into the brick wall.

His eyes crinkle with a smile, and he twirls a finger through my hair. “You look nice this morning. Did you do something different?”

Grumbling under my breath, I ignore him and head in the direction of Queen’s Gate.

Boden keeps pace and chuckles. “By the fates, you’re nervous.”

“I don’t get nervous.” I quicken my steps, and without the armor weighing down my body, I can almost outpace the fae.

“Then you’re trying to impress her.”

“I’m a Murrell witch. I don’t need to impress anyone.”

He opens his mouth, but I trace a silencing rune into the palm of my hand. His lips move, but when no sound comes out, his eyes burst wide. I’ll pay for it later, but I laugh as his mouth opens wider, silently screaming some ancient obscenities at me.

“It’ll only last for thirty minutes, old man,” I say. “Go find Frankie and make sure she’s at the bar to train Lottie.”

Giving me a soul-eating glare, he turns on his heel and strides in the opposite direction. As soon as his footsteps fade, I let my thoughts run rampant, flooding through the mental dam Boden taught me how to construct when I didn’t want my thoughts being read.

With every step closer to the entrance, my heart rate kicks up a notch. My pants are suddenly too tight, my shirt too hot. I didn’t have to read Lottie’s mind to know what she thought about the faire. I know it’s in a bit of disrepair, that the flowerboxes are still empty—the siding of the buildings in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint.

It’s not that I want to impress her, but some part of me wants her to look at the place I call home and find something worthwhile.

I shake my head, clearing the intruding thoughts. I’m her employer, and despite the way my breath caught when she said my name on the phone last night, I need to be professional.

Turning the corner in the path, I pass under the archway of the gate.

“Boden said you hired someone new,” Glen says, pulling a comb through the fur coating his arms. He takes a second glance at me and lifts a brow. “You look nice today.”

I grind my teeth. “I look like this every day.”

I did nothing out of the ordinary today, despite how badly Boden wants to believe differently.

Glen cants his head, and I have to admit, it’s slightly jarring for a Bigfoot to study me like this.

He shakes his head and sets down the comb. “No, you don’t look that different. It’s hard to put a finger on…like there’s more magic in you today.”

I blink. A silencing spell is nearly as draining as the spell that failed at yesterday’s joust, but the thread that connects me to my magic didn’t pull taut. It was easy to cast. Maybe we’re overreacting, and the magic isn’t draining from the land after all.

The clock in the corner ticks to eight, and Glen stands, unraveling the thick rope that secures the drawbridge. As it lowers, I hold my breath, considering for a brief moment that maybe Lottie changed her mind, that she didn’t want to take the job after all. Maybe she woke up, and in the light of the morning, had second thoughts.

Sun pierces through the gap, and as the bridge lands on the opposite side of the moat, my stomach sinks.

She’s not here.