I realized it was supposed to be some kind of reward, but for what, I still don’t understand. But he had a bucket in his hand, which he placed just within reach of the left leg shackle. I sighed. Refusing to do as a fae tells me has thus far only brought me grief as they use their hocus pocus on me to make me do whatever it is they want. I decided to see what happens when I obeyed. I walked over and stood patiently as he fastened the leg shackles just over my ankles.
“I’ll let Lord Willow know you’re feeling cooperative,” he promised, giving me a tight smile. Then he picked up the meal he brought earlier and took it away with him. As I heard the cell door clang shut behind him, the lock clicking as it engaged, I ponder that.
Lord Willow, huh. I had heard the desk sergeant looking guy call him that, now that I think about it. It suited him. He was tall and lithe, his long hair a pale silvery gold. Arctic blue eyes and porcelain skin with a natural blush to his cheeks and lips, and long feathery lashes that were a brown with a hint of gold. I’ll admit it. I’d looked. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and I’m a healthy man in his prime with an active libido. Plus, I fell into his eyes more than once when he mesmerized me, the dick. It gave me a good view of just how gorgeous they were, distracting me from the whammy being laid. Fucker.
It had been dark for goodness knows how long when Lord Willow Muckity Muck finally deigned to show his face. He was dressed in one of those open neck ruffled shirts with ties crisscrossing down the front. The ones that make girls swoon and go on about Lord Byron and pirates and shit. It’s tucked into a pair of form-fitting chocolate brown leather trousers that lace up the sides. He had a pair of knee-high dark brown pirate-style boots on, too. He’s really playing on the whole elf aesthetic. Give him a bow and a hobbit, and he’d be ready to attend a convention.
“They tell me you’ve had a rough couple of days but seem to be settling at last,” he told me, his expression grave. “I’m worried about you choosing not to eat anything, though. You need nourishment.”
“Then go back to Earth and bring me a Big Mac,” I replied. “You know exactly why I can’t eat faerie food.”
He didn’t deny my accusation, telling me everything I needed to know. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
“The rules, right?” I asked sarcastically.
“It seems you know this rule rather well. Unfortunately, I need you to be healthy, and that means you have to eat.”
“Like I said, go get me a Big Mac or a Whopper. Hell, I’ll even take a Popeye’s chicken sandwich. Just bring it with a side of fries and a Coke, in the original bags and shit, so I know it’s real, and I’ll eat.”
“I could just glamour up something to appear like it was,” he informed me.
“If you tell me it’s the real deal, I’ll believe you. It’s against the rules to lie explicitly, isn’t it? You have to do so by omission.”
He smiled then. “You’re catching on fast. I tell you what, we’ll play a little game. Let’s see if you can hold out from eating any food or drinking any wine for two more days. If you do, the third day, I’ll risk re-opening the rift and jump back to your world to get your food. Though I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me how to get those food items.”
“Just look for fast food places called Popeyes or Burger King or McDonald’s,” I told him. “McD’s has a big lit-up sign with an enormous letter m that looks like a double yellow arch.”
“Fine, fine. You just hold out, if you must. Either way, once you’ve eaten, we can move on with the rest of our arrangements.”
With that, he turned and left me, but not before I heard him tell someone, “Offer him food and wine. Nothing else, and only once a day. And for pity’s sake, offer him something appetizing. I wouldn’t eat the slop you offered him before, either. Order him whatever the guards are eating and charge the extra to me.”
Golly gee whiz, you’d have thought he actually cared or something.
