“Huh.” Hummingbird tilts her head. A curl falls from her pile of hair. She snaps her fingers again, and a butterfly pin swoops to pull it into place. “If you’re going to the palace, you definitely need new clothes. Wait right there.”
She darts towards the honeycomb shelves, humming an off-key song under her breath. A pair of wooden racks clatter on spindly legs towards the center of the room, each step sparkling with magic.
Folly hasn’t said a word since entering the shop. Yarrow seems perfectly happy to do all the talking. Normally Folly would be grateful. Today… he can’t shake his sense of obligation. Despite the fact—or perhaps because of the fact—that Yarrow is so insistent on handling everything.
Folly doesn’t want to be a pet or a dependent. Or any sort of foolish creature led around by the collar and leash of his own desperation. He’s an anxious mess of a person, but heisa person.
“Yarrow,” Folly says quietly.
The wild fae’s attention snaps towards him, bright bronze eyes focused. “Don’t worry, not all of Hummingbird’s wares are see-through.”
Folly tears his eyes away from the alarmingly sheer fabrics draping over the clothes racks. “It’s not that. Um. I know you said not to recklessly indebt myself to anyone.”
“Don’t eat anything in this room either,” Yarrow says, though there isn’t any food visible.
“I’ll pay you back for the clothes,” Folly says in a rush, then lifts a hand before Yarrow can reply. “With a reasonable amount of a reasonable currency.”
Yarrow looks relieved by the restriction. Just for a moment, before a grin brightens the sharp lines of his face. “If you insist. Let me consider…” His gaze pans up and down Folly’s body, with a much more leisurely perusal than Hummingbird’s.
But Folly’s neck doesn’t heat until Yarrow turns his contemplation to the racks of sheer fabric Hummingbird is assembling.
Possible forfeits dance through Folly’s mind. Yarrow said he doesn’t trade sex for anything but sex—but he would trade a kiss. Or would Yarrow want another story, something more difficult or interesting or personal to tell? Or perhaps he’ll assign Folly mundane chores like cooking and cleaning up after supper.
Folly’s treacherous mind keeps returning to a kiss. Whether that would be reasonable currency.
“I’ll pay for the clothes,” Yarrow says, eyes sparkling with mischief brighter than any magic, “ifyou wear whatever I want.”
Not what Folly expected. The request seems simple enough, but Folly knows how to bargain. And there’s an obvious loophole in Yarrow’s offer. “Whateverclothesyou want. For one day.”
Yarrow’s grin broadens. “One month.”
“One day,” Folly repeats.
“One week,” Yarrow says.
“One week, and I get to pick my shoes.”
“Deal.”
“Ifyou’re done flirting,” Hummingbird sings out, fluttering a few feet away. “Let me take the human’s measurements.”
Flustered on all fronts, Folly steps away and lifts his arms as directed. He half-expects her to snap her fingers again, directing her butterfly clips to dart around taking his measurements. ButHummingbird doesn’t even take out a measuring string. She just squints at him, lips pursed, then claps her hands.
“Right, I’m perfect at this. All of these should fit you.” Hummingbird waves at the racks. “What do you like?”
The variety of colors and textures is overwhelming. Folly’s drawn to a flowing robe, dark blue scattered with golden silk stars. It’s a far finer version of the fortuneteller’s robe currently knotted around his hips. He would be magnificent in it, sleeves swishing above the magic mirror. Not very practical, though—the summer realm has proven too hot for robes.
“What sorts of clothes would be practical?” Folly asks, hating how dependent he sounds.
Yarrow just steps closer, his presence warm behind Folly’s back. “Traveling clothes, and something from court. Maybe two outfits for court, in case we’re delayed there. I can keep the spares in my carryhold.”
“High fae get all judgy if you wear the same dress for breakfast as for supper,” Hummingbird agrees. “Do you want elegant court outfits, or slutty court outfits?”
Folly chokes. “Elegant, please!”
Yarrow sighs in disappointed unison with Hummingbird. “I suppose. Throw in that blue robe he wants, too.”
Folly jerks around, gaze forced up by Yarrow’s proximity. He hadn’t thought himself obvious, or particularly subtle. But the fact that Yarrow noticed makes him feel seen.
