Leana lived in a fucking fairy tale witch’s hut.
“This isamazing,” Bo said, head tipped back to take it all in. “If I were a cat, this is where I’d want to live.”
Sure, he should say something about hospitality, how great the other room was, to reassure both her and Ever that he wasn’t an incompetent asshole. Bo didn’t fucking care. He meant what he said, and he hadn’t even sworn.Manners.
The fae paused. She kept silent for a moment, long enough for Bo to glance over–up–at her again despite himself.
“You’re very kind. Bo, yes? I’m Leana.” She studied Bo, gaze keen, then turned her attention back to Ever. “I offer you and yours bread and salt, Everil. Please, sit–”
“Ma!” A muffled voice called from beyond an open doorway. “Do they want pie?”
Bo managed not to snicker. Leana’s lips twitched as she gestured to the three chairs and asked, “Do either of you want pie?”
“It’s apple!”
“It’s apple,” she repeated dutifully.
Ever sat during the back and forth, perched just as stiffly as he’d stood.
“Please,” Ever said, managing to sound like he could have, at one point, meant it for real.
“Pie sounds great.” Bo took the seat across from Ever. The table wasn’t so large that he couldn’t nudge the kelpie’s foot under it. Ever didn’t nudge back. At least he didn’t pull away.
“Awesome!” said the kid. And theywerea kid, unless voices cracked for fae on the regular outside of puberty. “Just a sec.”
“It was generous of you to allow us some time to rest.” Ever sat up straighter, somehow.
It was stupid to get tied up over Ever’s shame and self-loathing. Bo’d felt those from him since the get-go; it wasn’t like they were new. And Bo wasn’t the kind of guy to worry about someone hating him after fucking.
But, fuck. Ever’s one-eighty hurt. Made it clear how different things were with literallyanyother fae in the room.
Fuck, not the time for a post-fucking high crash.
“My understanding is Aisling’s youngest son has an interesting sense of humor,” Leana said, pleasant and casual in a way Bo didn’t like. His eyebrows arched. She filled Bo’s cup as she spoke: hot chocolate and caramel and salt. “Declan. He’s clever, like his mother. Sometimes, one needs a respite after ‘clever.’ Especially when a trial is involved.”
“He’s weird.” The drink tasted even better than it looked. Jesus. “But yeah. It was needed. The respite, not the mindscrew.”
“Such is the way of trials,” Ever murmured.
Leana’s smile for Ever, all calm welcome, gave Bo pause, even as she poured something distinctlynothot chocolate into Ever’s cup. From the same pot.
“I’m loath to believe our young Declan to be the sort to mislead anyone about my intentions,” Leana continued, pouring herself a drink, now. Honey mead, from the smell.Steel there, behind the warmth of her words. “If he insinuated the hospitality I extended was insincere, you’d be well done to tell me sooner rather than later.”
Bo blinked, confused. He threw Ever a look, brows furrowed at the white-knuckled kelpie. “I’m not following.”
Ever’s feelings becamemore, every inch of him so tense it was a wonder he didn’t vibrate. A spike of panic and desperation roiled between them, so strong that the shame was almost an afterthought.
“You’re asking whether he suggested the time you granted was part of your trial for us?” Ever asked, face and voice blank.
Oh. Fuck. Hot drinks. A tall fae in an apron. And, if Bo read the room right, an implicit death threat aimed at Declan if they answered wrong.
Cool.
Cool, cool, cool.
“He told us you were the next judge,” Bo said, which wasn’t a lie. Just not the whole truth.
“As Bo says,” Ever agreed with a small nod. “We were told you felt there was merit in discussing what we’d experienced, which we did. I believe we accepted the reprieve in the spirit you intended. We ate. Slept.”
