“Kit,” he says, frustrated. “I like Ryder—we grew up together. At one time, I considered him one of my closest friends. But he can’t help us.”
“The worst he could do is ruin a batch of my magic. We’ll just siphon more.”
“No, the worst he could do is destroy a dust pendant. It will be hard enough finding one. But two? Impossible.”
That does complicate things.
“Where are we going to look for one?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I didn’t run in those circles.”
As I wait for his tea to steep, I stir sugar into my mug. “What do you look like? The image I’ve conjured for you must be all wrong.”
“You mean the image of an old man?”
I smile, still a little disconcerted.
“I was good-looking,” he says flippantly.
“Of course you were—you’re a mage. If I’ve learned anything since coming to Moss Hollow, it’s that high fae blood makes people beautiful.”
“Why do you sound wistful?”
“Because I’m a pixie.”
“Which is fae.”
“But not high fae.” I take a sip of my tea. “What color is your hair?”
“Brown.”
“Brown is so vague. What shade? Light, dark, medium? Golden undertones? Red? Is it a cool shade?”
“Are we actually doing this?”
“Humor me. I’ve had a rough day.”
He sighs. “Medium, I suppose. When I was young, it was almost red, but it mellowed as I reached adulthood.”
“Did you wear it long?”
“For a while, until I went to college. Then I cut it to fit in.”
“And your eyes?”
“What about them?” he asks.
“What color are they?”
“Gray.”
“And how tall are you?”
“About six feet.”
So he’s a little shorter than high fae, but still tall.
“What was your favorite feature?”
