My eye twitches. That’s the fifth time he has called me by that insipid name. “I need you to get me an appointment with your cousin. There’s a waiting list, and I know you can help me jump it.”
He wipes the bar with a dirty rag. “Finally decided to give up being Rogue and live among the humans, have ye?”
A susurration of disgruntled faerie voices echoes through the tavern like a cursed song, and that’s when all eyes fall on me. My ears burn at the tips.
Most of the Rogue in this bar don’t believe in glamours or cloaking spells. They choose to live a modest life along the fringes of the human realm like vagrants or vagabonds.
Most of them have no choice. Most are dirt poor where their magic is concerned—so poor that they can barely maintain a glamour long enough to deceive even the most gullible of humans.
That’s why I resorted to thievery and trickery. It was better than being persecuted—better than living in rags.
But Bannog’s glamours are permanent.
There are some who consider him blessed by the goddess, and others who think him cursed. It just depends on who you ask.
My eyes fall on Ivy. She’s still hiding beneath her hood, but she sticks out like a sore thumb in that damask-blue cloak.
Several Fae eye her viciously, and from the way she hunches her shoulders, she couldn’t be anythingbuthuman. Gracefully awkward, like a budding rose yet to bloom…
She plays with a strand of her golden hair, and even from the bar, I catch those gilded strands glinting beneath the hushed lights of the tavern.
The patrons keep a wide berth for now, and good. Ivy is my ward. We made a bargain the day she gave me her necklace, and that includes my protection, too.
Sometimes I just wish I knew what was going on inside that pretty blonde head of hers.
She truly is an enigma.
What circumstances brought her north? And what reason does she have to be so afraid of soldiers?
She catches my gaze, pleading with me to return to the table with those big eyes, and my heart skips a beat.
I hold up five fingers, turning back to Stannog. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I require a glamour.”
Stannog shrugs his broad shoulders. “So, just make yer own glamour, then.”
A low growl emits from my lips. “You and I both know that isn’t an option. Glamours require too much magic, and I need to conserve mine.”
It seems I finally got through to the ogre. It’s been years since he so much as stepped a toe into the human world. So, he forgets how rough it can be at times.
These pocket worlds are all we have left—forgotten fragments of the faerielands. They’re islands, basically, the human world our wild, treacherous sea.
And that is why I need to secure safe passage aboard a ship.
I drum my fingers on the counter again. “So, will you speak to your cousin?”
The barkeep grunts, wiping at the same stubborn stain. “I’ll have ter think about it.”
Well, there’s no point in sticking around. Time to return to my human ward.
Before I leave, Stannog grabs the dagger, skewering me to the sticky counter by the sleeve of my coat. I meet his bloodshot eyes. “What?”
He shows me hislovelyteeth again. “The ale isn’t free. Pay up.”
I chuckle, trying to play it off, yet Stannog isn’t messing around. He digs the knife in deeper, twisting it into the wood, and I roll my eyes. “Put it on my tab.”
He growls, hovering inches from my face. “That tab has already reached its limit.Pay. Up.”
I charm him with a debonair smile, hoping he takes the bait. I even throw in a fang for good measure. “For the two tankards, or the last six months?”
