Page 92 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cornelius Yarrow lived in a cottage at the edge of Hallow, overlooking the sea. The garden was a wild tangle of yew bushes and roses. Along with the unseasonal pink roses, there were several toads sitting in a row in front of the door. And a dryad hiding high up in a wind-crooked oak tree. The smoke curling from the chimney sparkled, forming into swans and dragons and imps.

“You did not tell me you were dismissed from your post,” Lachlan said quietly.

“It was not relevant,” Pippa replied.

“The hell it wasn’t.”

“We have more important business, surely.”

The door swung open to reveal a gentleman who appeared to be constructed mostly out of twigs. Leaves sprouted from his eyebrows and from most of his joints, which creaked alarmingly. Pippa froze.

The poor man was basically kindling.

And she was made of fire.

She tried to smile but was fairly certain she only produced a sort of panicked grimace. Her bracelet pinched and nipped at her. She pictured hounds made of flame and smoke, chewing at their leashes. Instead of seeing them tied up or muzzled, she imagined a nice, distracting plate of raw beef. And a moat of placid water to drink from. Lachlan’s fingers curved at the back of her neck, cool and comforting. “Hello,” Pippa said. Croaked. She tried again. “Might you be Mr. Yarrow?”

“I might be, young lady,” he replied, his voice rattling like dry sunflowers in a field. His eyes were dark and shining. Gentle, if a bit bemused. And a touch cross when he looked at Lachlan, dark as an ominous storm cloud, all edged with silver. The promise of violence was all over him. Not to mention the glitter of Fae magic. “Don’t touch my saplings. Or my violets! Or you’ll have to wait outside. I don’t care about your fancy crown.”

“I wasn’t aware I was wearing a crown,” Lachlan remarked drily.

“I don’t hold with any of your court nonsense,” Cornelius added. “Solitary Fae don’t answer to you.”

“A relief, I assure you.”

There was a pause while Cornelius worked out whether or not to be offended.

Pippa sighed and nudged Lachlan with her elbow. Sharply. “Honestly, you have the manners of a feral kelpie sometimes.”

“Thank you.”

“That was not a compliment.” She smiled at Cornelius and tried not to think of hot or burning things. Winter mountains. Frost. Snow. “I do apologize for him,” she said. “Crowns are not particularly good for the disposition.” Neither was burning a poor twig man alive.

“He ought to chew mint leaves if he’s bilious.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Lachlan said.

Pippa stepped on his foot this time. Hard. “We come seeking your expertise, sir.”

“Is that a copy of Culpepper’s Herbal? The secret one?”

“Yes, it is. It does not do to come empty handed.” She had taken note of the other books he had checked out over the years.

“You are a flatterer, Miss…”

“Cavendish.”

“But as you are also a Librarian, you are welcome, Miss Cavendish.”

“Lady Thorn,” Lachlan corrected him.

“Pardon?”

“She is Lady Thorn,” Lachlan insisted. Somewhat mulishly, it had to be said. “My wife.”

Pippa turned to stare at him.