Ryder fights with the tea shop gate for several seconds before the latch finally opens.
“Thanks.” The moment I step inside the garden, I come to an abrupt stop.
Ryder runs into me, not expecting me to freeze in the path. “What’s the matter?”
“Those houses weren’t here on Tuesday.” I frantically gesture to the two new gnome homes that sit adorable and horrifying in the wet garden foliage. “Why are they here? They’re supposed to be moving to the cottage!”
“Those two little things? That’s not a big deal. Your dad will take care of them,” Ryder says. “It’ll be all right.”
My heart races as I kneel in front of the houses to get a better look. They’re tucked behind a cluster of daisies, partially hidden, but easy enough to spot if you’re looking for them.
“Why are they suddenly so intrigued with the tea garden?” I whisper, feeling like I’m quickly reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope.
Rowan screeches from inside my bag, reminding me he’s still in there.
“Oh, sorry.” I stand, making sure I’m not squishing him.
The second we open the back door, Nadine rushes into the hall, leaving the tea shop counter temporarily unattended. In a frantic whisper, she says, “You haven’t answered your phone. I’ve tried to call a dozen times.”
Cold dread travels down my spine.“I accidentally left it at home. What’s the matter?”
A man appears in the doorway. He’s high fae, gorgeous as all their kind are, with long, light brown hair that he’s gathered in a low, sleek ponytail and a lean, aristocratic build. He wears a tan business suit with a folded pocket square in the breast pocket of his jacket.
“Are you Miss Merriweather?” he asks, his voice far too cool for my liking.
“Yes?” I squeak.
“My name is Elias Delflorna, and I’m a representative from the Fae Preservation Society. I need to speak with you.”
Chapter 18
Gnomageddon
Ilead Elias up the stairs, feeling ill. Rowan squirms in my tote, probably wanting to be free, but he’s going to have to wait until we’re in the apartment.
“Come on in,” I say. “Excuse the mess. We use the area for storage.”
Elias’s eyes sweep over the shelving, his enigmatic expression offering no opinion. But that placid look on his face slips when I open my tote, and Rowan comes flying out.
The agitated mage settles on his perch, ruffling his feathers, looking mad as heck.
“Do you always carry an owl in your purse, Miss Merriweather?” Elias asks.
“More often than you might think.” I hang the tote on a hook by the door. “I should have asked if you’d like tea before we came up here.”
“This isn’t a social call,” he says. “And there’s no reason for small talk. The society received an anonymous tip that you have gnomes on your property. Are you aware that gnomes are a protected fae race?”
“Yes…”
“Are you also aware that fae business owners are required by law to inform the society when they discover signs of gnomes?”
“I didn’t realize there was a specific time frame in which it had to happen. I only just discovered substantial gnome signs recently.”
“Ignorance is not an acceptable excuse for?—”
Rowan screeches, startling Elias so badly that the man jumps.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not sorry at all. “He’s a little unruly. What were you saying?”
