He leads me into the building, and we arrive at a battered front desk. The hunchbacked man barely glances up from his deck of cards as Tegwyn checks us in. “One room, please. Two beds.”
“We only got single beds, kid.”
Tegwyn’s eyes shift towards me, and a light blush takes over his gold-green face. “You must have something. Surely...”
“He told you there were no twin rooms left, shithead. So, take it or fuck off.”
A shrill, guttural voice responds this time, and I peer over the desk, spying a small, wrinkled creature with tattered bat ears carrying his own deck of cards.
He glares at me with bulbous red eyes, and I hide behind Tegwyn.
Now I notice the underbite of theconciergeof sorts, and to my surprise, he has tusks. Large ones.
He’s Fae.
They’rebothFae.
No wonder they don’t ask questions. This place must be riddled with magic, and they want to keep it that way.
I bet the humans don’t know about this adorable little shack tucked away inside this alleyway. Tegwyn pinches the bridge of his nose. Then, with a defeated sigh, he accepts the single room with the single bed, muttering to himself as he leads the way up the rickety stairs.
It looks as if we’ll be sharing, and now I understand his blush because I have one of my own burning up the sides of my cheeks.
This is going to be awkward.
We arrive at our room on the second floor, and it’s overrun with cockroaches.
Tegwyn chases the insects away with a flick of his magic, then passes out into a moth-eaten chair by the fireplace, shutting his eyes.
He points at the bed. “You take the bed…”
I creep towards the bed in question, finding that it’s surprisingly clean when I lift away the linen sheets. They’re fresh, soft, and smell like daisies. Tegwyn’s magic, perhaps?
“But where will you sleep?” I ask, peering his way.
He waves his hand down at the chair he’s lounging on. “On the chair, of course.”
No. He should sleep comfortably. He needs a good night’s rest to replenish his magic; he’s used far too much already.
I shake my head. “No. You should—”
His eyes snap open, and then I meet that burning amber. “Just take the bed, Ivy.”
I’m overcome with something, and I have no idea what’s coming over me. I just don’t like the idea of him sleeping on that stiff chair.
Well, if he insists on sleeping rough, then he should at least get a fire going.
As if reading my mind, he clicks his fingers, and then flames appear in the hearth, flickering and filling the room with heat. Unfortunately, his energy recedes further, draining the colour from his face.
I gasp, “Tegwyn, stop! I could have started the fire.”
He regards me with unseeing eyes, his gaze clouded over with fatigue. “No. You sleep…”
The faerie gestures towards the bed for the umpteenth time, and I worry my lip, regarding him on that tattered chair.
It’s not as if I can force him at this point, so I approach the bed, shaking my head. He really is a stubborn mule. He’s determined tospend the whole night on the world’s most uncomfortable chair, but truth be told… I just want him beside me. I’m a little terrified of this place. It’s new and strange, and bitter cold.
As I lay on the straw-filled bed, gazing up at the rafters on the low-hanging ceiling, I wonder how I should coax him. We would just be sleeping. Nothing more.
