Folly looks as directed, but can’t tell which of the buildings Yarrow means. Hopefully the inn has a bath. Washing up in the river has its limits.
A shop selling iron would be nice, but Folly doubts those are common in the fae realm.
“We should see if there’s a soothsayer in town.” Yarrow struts onward like nobody’s watching. Or like everyone is watching. “I’d like some hints as to Moriath’s whereabouts. You can trade professional tips, fortuneteller to fortuneteller. Always nice to—hang on.”
Yarrow stops so suddenly, Folly nearly runs into him. Folly rocks back, adrenaline racing, but Yarrow’s surprise melts into a delighted smile.
“That’s Hummingbird’s shop. She must have moved here recently.” Yarrow points at a sky-blue cottage, its roof thatched with cloud-white straw. A wispy pink and yellow gown flutters from a flagpole outside. Rubbing his chin, Yarrow looks Folly up and down. “You need new clothes.”
Folly plucks at his sleeve. The cuff is fraying, and the arberos sap left a mottled stain like red wine. “I can mend these.”
Chuckling, Yarrow grabs him by the shoulder and steers him towards the cottage. “Sure you can. You still need new clothes.”
Dread and embarrassment twine through Folly’s stomach. “My coin probably isn’t good here. What if this Hummingbird wants something else? You said I can’t agree to favors, and Idon’t want to trade a finger. Maybe a toe, but then my balance would be?—”
“I’m paying, of course.” Yarrow pats Folly’s shoulder. “No fingers necessary.”
Folly’s voice catches in his throat as they reach the doorstep. He can’t explain his nerves, because they don’t make sense. Any mystery could lurk beyond the rough-painted door, from an arberos to a boarbear to a fae shopkeeper expecting Folly to obey trading customs he’s never learned.
Yarrow raps on the door, then steps back. A frown crosses his handsome features. “Are you all right?”
There’s no hope of Folly answering. But before his choked-up silence gets awkward, a window shunts open in the middle of the door—a mere four feet from the ground.
Dark eyes glitter beyond the narrow gap. Then there’s a gasp and a squeal. “Yarrow! What are you doing here?” The door swings open, revealing a tiny, exuberant fae. Her eyes shine bright blue in the sunlight, fixing on Folly. “And who isthis?”
“This is Folly,” Yarrow says, squeezing Folly’s shoulder. “Folly, this is Hummingbird.”
Hummingbird is smaller than any fae Folly’s seen so far—barely four feet tall, with rich dark skin and wide, opalescent eyes. A constellation of tiny gems glitters in her long curls. Her diaphanous blue dress flutters with her every movement.
“Folly,” Hummingbird repeats, then leaps into the air. Sheer dragonfly wings appear at her shoulders, lifting her up into Folly’s face. “Hello.”
Folly squeaks, jolting back. Only Yarrow’s grasp on his shoulder keeps him upright. “Um. Hi.”
Wings blurring, Hummingbird looks him up and down. Her dark eyes are unreadable. “I haven’t seen a human in years. Did Yarrow trap you with a riddle or promise you untold riches? Never trust untold riches. They’re untold, after all.”
“Um,” Folly says. “He didn’t do either of those.”
Hummingbird cocks her head. “What is he using you for? Your pretty eye, or your pretty everything else?” She wags a long finger at Yarrow. “I thought you liked your lovers… how do you always put it? Feisty.”
That shouldn’t sting. Folly isn’t one of Yarrow’s lovers and has no intention of becoming one. So, his lack of feistiness shouldn’t matter, and Folly shouldn’t feel chagrined.
“Be nice,” Yarrow says, a little sterner than usual. “I’ll explain if you let us inside. Folly needs new clothes.”
Hummingbird looks Folly up and down again, her entire body dipping in the air. “Yes, Follydoesneed new clothes. Get in, get in.”
Beckoning, she swoops backwards and drops to the ground. Too stunned to feel offense at the scrutiny, Folly enters the shop.
The room looks bigger on the inside—a practical illusion of the massive mirror dominating the leftmost wall. The mirror reflects the shelves honeycombing the rest of the chamber, filled with fabric and trunks and sewing supplies. Hanging lanterns illuminate everything in clear light.
Folly cringes away from his reflection, missing his eyepatch. He’d rather look at anything else than his own grubby appearance.
“Nice place.” Yarrow’s hand finally falls from Folly’s shoulder, and he turns around the room. “Bigger than your shop in Auden. Were you just looking to upgrade? Or am I missing any gossip?”
Hummingbird snaps her fingers, and her hair instantly piles atop her head, secured by a flock of butterfly pins. “I was bored. Dreadfully bored. Imagine seeing the same people every day for centuries! I was only there for thirty years, but the future was clear. But you, my horned friend, will not distract me.” She plants both hands on her hips. “Why do you have a human?”
Folly chews the inside of his lip as Hummingbird stares down both of them. Her presence is far larger than her height.
Yarrow shrugs, unruffled as always. “A shapestealer cursed us together. I’m taking him to Queen Haelwen to break the curse.”
