I decided to change the subject. “I’m Jase, by the way,” I told her.
“Names have power,” she said. “Never give your real name. Lord Willow calls you Ghost, so Ghost you shall be.”
“But everyone calls him by his name,” I protested.
She plated up my eggs and brought me a piece of bread she’d toasted as we spoke. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s what he goes by. All fae have a name they go by that’s not their true name. High Fae are all called after trees if Unsidhe, and flowers, if of the Sidhe. I’m a Brownie and we get called after something relevant to what our job will be. I’m called Keeper.”
“Thank you, Ms. Keeper,” I said, lifting my fork to take a bite. She giggled again, finding me amusing for some reason.
“Just Keeper. I was always destined to keep house,” she explained. “My brother is a gardener, so he’s called Barrow.”
And I was Ghost, because, well, it was my assassin name and it’s all Lord My Name Isn’t Really Willow knew me by. I took another bite of the egg. If she hadn’t said anything, I’d have just thought it was a turkey egg or something as it tasted pretty normal.
“This is delicious, thank you,” I said.
“It’s my job,” she said, but I noticed her cheeks pinked with pleasure. If I got to spend more time with her instead of our boss, maybe this gig wouldn’t be so bad after all.
