Rowan frowns, thoughtful—maybe even a little angry. “Like that will stop Russell.”
“It’s our only option.”
“Let me take care of it,” Rowan says, almost pleading.
“You do not want to go to fae prison,” Ash answers sharply. “The punishment for breaking specific laws is often more severe than the ones they dole out for murder. Just because you can keep Russell away from Kit doesn’t mean youshould.”
Rowan smirks. “What I’m hearing is you think I should kill him.”
“Rowan!” I exclaim.
He chuckles, suggesting he’s probably joking.
He had better be joking.
“Stay in your lane, Rowan,” Ash says, unamused. “Stick to your workshop. Play with your wands, magic theory, and tea. Let me take care of this.”
Rowan bites back a retort, looking away as though he wants to argue but knows it’s pointless. Though Ash is condescending as can be, he’s the best person to deal with this.
“Come along, Kit,” the councilman says, as though I’m a puppy.
“Hopefully it won’t take too long,” I say to Rowan, hanging back while Ash makes his way to the door.
“It’s all right,” Rowan says heavily. “I have the shop under control.”
And I would probably believe him…except Keira chooses this exact moment to walk through our door.
This time, Rowan’s ex-fiancée isn’t alone.
She’s with a well-dressed blonde woman who must be close to my parents’ age. Keira’s older companion is poised and perfect, undoubtedly high fae, with a perfect blond bob and expensive taste in handbags. I recognize her from the graduation photo I saw at Ash’s house.
This is Rowan’s aunt.
Rowan groans when he spots the pair, making me highly reluctant to follow Ash out the door. But that’s okay, because Ash has stopped, too.
“Mom,” the councilman says, looking dumbfounded as his eyes go between the two women. “What are you…?”
“Keira came to visit me this morning.” Mrs. Neilfellow looks at the dark-haired woman with a concerning amount of affection. “It was an enlightening conversation. We’ve come to see Rowan.”
Rowan mutters something under his breath. It’s too quiet to make out, but it’s clear he’s not happy. Not happy at all.
I step to the side, feeling like I shouldn’t be here even though I own the place. I’m so insignificant that neither Mrs. Neilfellow nor Keira bothers to glance my way.
“Listen, whatever it is you want to discuss, we can do it tonight,” Rowan says. “I’m working.”
“Where’s the little tea pixie?” Rowan’s aunt asks. “Can’t she watch the shop for a while?”
Feeling as important as a ladybug, I debate whether I’m going to announce myself. But it looks like I won’t have to. Highly frustrated, Rowan says, “Her name is Kit, and she’s rightthere.”
Keira assesses me. She’s a lioness sizing up her prey, and I know when I’m in a losing battle.
Mrs. Neilfellow smiles, unconcerned that I overheard her refer to me as “the little tea pixie.”
“Oh, hello,” she says. “I didn’t see you there. What a twee thing you are.”
“Hi.” I clasp my hands on the counter…then unclasp my hands. I cross my arms and then finally let them fall to my sides like limp tentacles. “I’m Kit.”
But Rowan already said that. To cover up the mistake, I laugh brightly, so stupidly nervous.
