“She’s far too elderly to be of any concern, princess,” Tarek teases, and I growl at the use of his new favorite nickname.
He defends his fuckery by saying it’s to help me adjust to the idea of it, but all I want to do is punch him in the dick whenever it slips out of his luscious lips. What’s worse is that itdoeshelp on some level, but not for the reasons he thinks. It’s not about adjusting because, true or not, that will never happen. It’s hearing them say it so casually, like it’s no big deal,that’swhat does something for me. They make it clear in the teasing dismissal of the title that, at the end of the day, I’m still me, and they’re still them, andprincessor not, it changes nothing between us.
“She’s old?” I ask, surprised as I turn from the window and back to them.
“Very,” Tarek confirms with a cheeky grin.
I consider this new information for a moment and then shrug. “Good for her then, I guess.”
Riall brays a laugh so loud it makes me jump. “So, what? No ‘fucking until she learns her lesson’ now?” he asks as he wipes laugh tears from his eyes.
“We can still give her a show, but it’d be moresomething to remember us byand lessdon’t make me cut you.”
Tarek shakes his head as though he doesn’t know what to do with me, but I see the smirk he’s wearing.
“Brothers, I think we created a monster,” he declares with faux solemnity.
The other two snicker.
I give a derisive snort. “I was already a monster; you just showed me how to embrace it.”
“Awww, Beasty!” Riall coos, picking me up and twirling me around. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me!”
His exaggerated fervor is contagious, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Feed me before I take it all back,” I command through my giggles.
“You heard the little monster,” Riall announces as he sets me on my feet.
Tarek steals me and tucks me into his side, and we start walking. “Marret said the tavern is this way.”
“Her name is Marret,” Riall confirms, his grin wide with glee. “Even her name is old. I haven’t met a Marret in ages.”
We start down one of the spoke-offshoots of the wagon-wheel-shaped town, and I take in the shops we pass as we go. Some are already closed for the night, while others are getting ready to. Thankfully, I no longer find crowds and cities as intimidating or overwhelming as I did before. There’s a comforting predictability to the hustle and bustle of fae going about their business with single-minded focus. All that matters is where they need to go and why, while everything else around them whizzes past, unimportant and unworthy of notice.
I survey the darkening snow-covered street we’re on. There are only a few cloaked figures with their heads down as they shoulder through sporadic bursts of wind, in a hurry to get somewhere warmer. A sign for The Nocked Arrow squeaks forward and then back, pushed around by a bullying, frigid breeze that kicks snow up in the air and shoves it in our face. Bright orange fairy light illuminates the large, frosted windows on each side of the towering front entrance, and a wall of welcoming heat embraces us as we step inside. Riall has to wrestle the wind for the door, and it closes with a loud crack when he prevails. A dozen or so faces turn curiously in our direction as we step down into the main part of the tavern.
A short, ragged-looking barman stares at us as he sets four tankards on the long bar counter as though anticipating our thirst. There’s an interesting tension in the air, a layer of caution I can feel tingling against my skin, as the patrons watch us choose a small round table from the available options. The stiff silence isn’t completely unwelcoming, but it feels as though it wouldn’t take much to tilt things in that direction.
“Not keen on strangers, it seems,” Curio mumbles for our ears only while he unclasps his cloak and pulls it off.
I shove my hood back, and the firelit warmth of the room caresses my chilled cheeks. The fae still surveying us take one look at me and unexpectedly relax. Shoulders slouch and bodies turn back to their tables, as drinks, conversations, and companions are once again the focus of all of the tavern-goers. Just like that, our presence here is dismissed, and I look around at the other patrons, bewildered by the immediate change.
Were they worried we’d be trouble but now they’re not simply because I’m here?
I pull off my cloak completely and drape it over the chair next to Curio’s.
“That was interesting,” Tarek observes as he takes a seat.
“I think I’m offended that they only see you three as a threat,” I quip.
Riall chuckles and rests his thick arm on the back of my chair. “That’ll be their downfall, Beasty. They’ll never see you coming until it’s too late.”
I smile and spot an older woman with a tray of drinks headed in our direction. She gives me a beaming smile, one that dims slightly as it’s turned on the Scorpions and Riall’s hand draped behind me.
“I’ve got three frothing steins of our best,” she declares as she sets the heavy mugs down on the table. “Aego sent this over just for you,” she explains as she sets down a smaller glass in front of me filled with a bright purple liquid.
I don’t much like ale, so instead of questioning the offering, I nod and pull the glass closer.
