“Why are you both crouching over me like that?” she asks, eyes dropping to the dagger strapped to my waist. “Are you going to kill me?”
On occasion, I’d prefer to be able to lie outright. Pity I cannot. “Not yet I’m afraid. We were just inspecting your clothing. It is ugly and impractical.”
“And you’re an uncivil monster, Never.”
“You must stop calling me that.”
“Must I?” she asks, shaking her rust-colored head at me. Twigs and flowers spill onto her purple gown. Without thinking, I snap my fingers, and the debris floats like feathers through the air. She snatches a handful of the fragrant blossoms and crushes them to her face, hiding a smile.
Balor nips at the dancing flora, and I let them all drop into the human’s lap.
“Cool trick,” she says.
I try not to look too pleased with myself.
“Why do you wear such an odious garment?” I ask, sitting back on my heels. “You must be very poor. Are you aware of its stench?”
She laughs. “You’re ridiculously sensitive to smells. It’s my work uniform, that’s why it stinks a little like food. I waitress… ah, you might not know what that means. I serve food in a restaurant.”
“Is that a type of banquet hall?”
“Yes. Kind of.”
“You are a servant then—just as I thought.”
“No, waitressing is my job. I get paid money, you know coin, to do it. And almost everyone works in the human world, even the rich people.”
“Why?”
“What else would they do with their time if they didn’t work?”
“Feast and drink and entertain a constant stream of lovers. There are plenty of ways to divert oneself.” Most of them boring.
“But after a while, they’d probably grow tired of those things. A person needs purpose, meaningful work to be truly happy.”
These words stun me. A person needs purpose to be truly happy.
Most of the Folk have no want or need of purpose. But I am different. And this must be why hunting draygonets brings me peace and contentment.
“Don’t you fae have any idea of what happens in my world? I figured you’d be spying on us all the time because there are so many stories about your kind interacting with the human world, tales that go back hundreds of years. Don’t you care anymore?”
“Many fae from other lands do trifle in your world. They care a great deal. But not my kind. We’re Elemental fae, and we only use nature magic. We aren’t interested in your modern ways.”
“What type of fae dabble with the human world?”
“In the south of this land, the Court of Merits dwell. They are different to Elementals and are extremely interested in humans. But it isn’t easy to travel from their lands to yours. And, if you knew the Merits, you would not wish them as frequent visitors to your home. Believe me.”
“They’re worse than you, are they?”
“Much worse.”
While she contemplates that fact, her tiny fingers comb flowers and grass from her locks. Balor snuffles at her ear, making her giggle like a child.
“Hey, pup. You’re not so bad, are you?” she says, taking his giant gray head between her palms and shaking it playfully.
In surprise, I look down at my leg as something solid thumps against it. Balor is wagging his tail like a milk-fed whelp!
“What beautiful red eyes you have, Balor. You’re quite cute, aren’t you?”
In answer to the ridiculous compliment, he sniffs and licks and whines at her neck in ecstasy.
What an embarrassment of a hunting hound. I never imagined he could be so easily won over. And by a human of all creatures.
“Where’s Jinn?” she asks through a yawn. “Galloped off home without you?”
“No doubt he’s taking his breakfast in the forest. When given a choice, he prefers to dine alone.”
Hostile and dark, her forest eyes look me up and down. “I can see why.”
“Your words do not offend me. You’ll be pleased to know I find you as hideous as you find me.”
Ugly things are fascinating. Ugly things are fun to taunt.
“Huh,” she says, rubbing her stomach as it growls like a peat demon.
I must feed her soon or she’ll wither away to naught. Then I’ll have no evidence of my unusual catch to show my court.
“So, tell me, can fae lie even a little bit?” she asks as I saunter to my pack, pull dried meat from it, and then toss it at her. I might have been aiming for her face. Regardless, she catches it with ease, spoiling my childish game.
“I say whatever I like.” Without looking at her, I sweep my hand behind, dismissing her as I would a bothersome insect, and continue rifling through my belongings. Trouble is, I don’t remember what I’m searching for. Ah, yes, hooks and twine. When I find them, I stuff both in my pockets.
I glance back at the wasp’s bland, symmetrical features, twisted with suspicion. What in the world is it thinking?
“Let’s test the lying theory,” she suggests, her eyes narrowing to jade slits.
“What do you mean?”
“About my hideous appearance, do you really think I look like a goblin or a wasp?”
My shoulders stiffen. “There are some similarities.”
“So that’s a no, then?” She laughs, and my black heart gallops like I’m riding at the center of a wild hunt. I cannot believe this one’s boldness.
I turn to face her, slowly, slowly, slowly. “Do not think to taunt a fae to anger, human. Have you no sense at all in your pale-red head? There is a wise phrase you mortals used to chant: ‘be kind to a vagabond for he may be a faery prince in disguise’. What think you of that?”
She laughs harder this time. “As if a prince would be as ill-tempered and badly dressed as you are.”
As I advance, my gray cloak swirls, slicing through the air in front of her. I turn this air into a tightly spinning vortex and lift her a foot off the ground. Then higher. And higher still.
“Stop,” she cries, smothering more giggles as she flails suspended, her hair a red wildfire reaching for the treetops. For some reason, the sight entrances me.
“Never, stop!”
I let the wind fall, and her limbs tumble in a mess over the grass.
“Why are you laughing?” I demand.
“What else can I do? Crying won’t do me any good. You should try smiling sometime, too. A relaxed attitude improves most circumstances.”
“I’d prefer never to smile. It’s an infantile activity.”
“See? As a name, Never suits you well. It’s a great nickname for you.”
“I give up. I’d like to throttle you, but I’m afraid once I start, I shan’t be able to stop. Stay there. I’ll go upstream and catch our breakfast.”
Balor barks his approval. He loves a sentence with the words catch and breakfast strung closely together.
“You’re going fishing? Can’t you just magic us up some tasty faery breakfast?”
“If you think you’ll enjoy glamored weeds and toadstools, certainly, that is easy. Should you wish it, my lady, I’ll prepare your gilded plate now.” I make a show of collecting a pat of animal dung from near the bower, and she stops me with a yelp.