Chapter 1
Worse than a Gnome
You don’t know true dread until you locate a gnome house on your property.
I feared it was coming. Deep in my heart, I knew it was only a matter of time before I located it. First, it was the swing hanging from a branch. Then, I found a tiny cart full of pebbles near a rosebush. Now here I am, staring at a miniature house fixed to the side of the ancient oak at the very back of the tea garden. It’s gut-wrenchingly adorable, with a moss roof and bark shake siding. It even has a little chimney.
I know from having a gnome-obsessed father that this house is merely the entrance into a hollow corridor of the tree, where the family will construct their home. If the tree is big enough, they’ll invite their friends.
In no time at all, one family can become two. Two can become five.
And five can cause financial ruin. Oh, who am I kidding? One is enough to cause financial ruin.
With a heavy heart, I walk into the tea shop.
“I found a gnome house,” I say to Rowan when I join him behind the counter, keeping my voice down so Graham won’t hear me. The poor human already thinks he hallucinated analligator on his porch when one of Dorian’s dragons escaped. He might have a nervous breakdown if he overhears me talking about gnomes.
The author is our only customer right now, but it’s Friday. This is the calm before the weekend storm.
“Your dad will take care of it,” Rowan says, his calm tone suggesting he’s never seen the chaos the Fae Preservation Society can create.
But he’s right. Dadwillfix this—hopefully before the society discovers the new settlement on my property.
“What time are they supposed to be here?” Rowan asks.
“They’re traveling by fairy ring, so I don’t know. Mom said they’re going to leave their house by nine, but it will take about thirty minutes to get to the ring from their place.”
I didn’t ask how much it’s going to cost them. I don’t want to know. They’re rushing here for me, and though I appreciate it and would love to help with their travel expenses, I just don’t have the money for that.
I think back to the mess with Russell, the mage who twisted our pixie dust agreement and abducted me a few days ago. The ranger from the Department of Fae Code and Ethics said if I cash the check Russell made out to me, it will be harder to incarcerate the criminal mage. Though he warned it will be difficult no matter what thanks to the way the law is written, and added that the choice is mine, since magic left my body.
So now I’m sitting on a thirty-thousand-dollar check, unsure what to do. I can’t decide how I feel about it. On the one hand, it seems dishonest of me to cash it when Ansel destroyed the pendant, since I didn’t technically deliver any of my magic to Russell.
On the other hand, he kidnapped me and drew my magic without my permission, relying on a loophole in the fae code.The least I should get out of it is enough money to fix my aged tea shop's roof.
Or pay part of Rowan’s mages college tuition.
My ex-owl will never allow me to help, though. Especially not when he can finish his degree for free if he goes back as an aide for Professor Bellview.
But then we’ll be apart for who-knows-how-long, and I’m not sure my heart can handle that, especially while our magic is fused.
Our accidental shifter bond is alive and well. Though two days ago, Rowan decided we shouldn’t have a physical relationship until he reversed the bond. He said it’s for my sake—just in case I’m not in love with him. In case my feelings aren’t real, or some such rubbish.
While the lack of kisses distracts me during the day, the fear that these feelings aren’t my own keeps me up at night.
Basically, I’m a hot, glittering mess.
The door chimes, pulling me from my brooding. Graham looks up, face hopeful, and then deflates when Ash walks into the tearoom. I might be wrong, but I’m pretty sure he’s hoping to see Meg this morning.
I, too, would rather see Meg.
Ash is still mad Rowan didn’t tell him about my kidnapping. At least this time, he doesn’t blame me—which is handy because he’s stepped in as my lawyer once more to help navigate this mess with Russell.
“Morning, Ash,” I say when the handsome councilman reaches the counter. “Irish breakfast?”
“I’m afraid I’m here with news.”
My stomach drops. “Bad news?”
