“Not if I drown you first!” Hummingbird retorts, then drops down to a seat with peals of laughter.
“Give me a moment,” Yarrow says, then hails one of the passing fox fae to place their order.
Folly sits awkwardly across from Hummingbird. “Um, thank you for the clothes. They’re really nice.” He cringes internally. Thanking merchants might be a horrible insult in the fae realm. Or the opposite—maybe he’s supposed to be even more effusive. But sitting down silently could be an insult too.
Fuck, can he not survive half a minute without ruining a social interaction?
“Thank you!” Hummingbird chirps. Her dark-rainbow eyes squint with her smile. “I haven’t dressed a human in at least fifty years. Of course, back then it was usually all sultry lounging clothes, or ball gowns… Whenever a human would eat the wrong thing at court, and get stuck here for a bit.” She laughs. “Most people don’t need practical hiking outfits for their humans.”
Folly needn’t have worried about not knowing what to say. Hummingbird seems perfectly willing to talk for both of them. Yarrow’s presence at his side is still a relief. The fae slides ontothe bench, close enough that his knee brushes Folly’s. Casually enough to have been an accident.
“Maybe the high fae just need to get out more.” Yarrow pats Folly’s back reassuringly. “Spending all that time in castles can’t be good for them.”
Folly isn’t sure what he’s being reassured about. But he’ll take it.
“I don’t know why you want to join them,” Hummingbird says. “Living in little villages like this is stifling enough. I can’t imagine how suffocating Elladar must be.”
Her voice is breezy, but Folly feels a sudden kinship with her. Stifling. That’s what his home village was like, constantly being watched, constantly being suspected of anything that might be fae magic.
“Where do you want to live?” Folly asks tentatively.
Hummingbird shrugs. A butterfly clip dives to catch a dislodged strand of hair. “I’ll know when I’m home, I suspect. I like moving around, except for how inconvenient moving my shop is.”
“I’m sure your friends would be happy to help,” Yarrow points out. “If you ever told us in advance.”
“And owe you a favor?” Hummingbird places a dramatic, spindly hand over her heart. “Don’t be absurd.”
A pair of fox fae arrive bearing pitchers and dishes, which saves Folly from much of the conversation. He can fill his mouth with food instead of words, after Yarrow confirms it’s safe. The food is ordinary fare—beef and barley stew, with a side of warm, flaky bread. Every flavor is richer than Folly’s used to. But that might just be his hunger after three days in the woods.
He’s halfway through his meal when the children arrive.
A pair of them stop at the end of the table, whispering and elbowing each other. If they were human, Folly would guess their age around ten. Dark-haired and copper-skinned, they lookalmost like human children, except their eyes are a bit too big, and their pointed ears poke through their curly hair. One has green eyes, the other has orange eyes. Folly can’t tell either of their genders. Not that he tries very hard. He’s more concerned with how intently they’re staring at him.
“Careful,” Yarrow breathes in his ear.
Folly shivers. “Are fae children dangerous?”
Yarrow’s chuckle warms his veins. “No, they’re just annoying.”
Folly laughs, which makes the children jump. He swings around to perch on the edge of the bench. “Did you want something?”
They jump again, and the orange-eyed one says, “Strawberry says you’re a human.”
“That’s true,” Folly says, and asks the other, “Are you Strawberry?”
The green-eyed child wrinkles their nose. “No! Strawberry’s an old hag.”
Old hag could be rude, or a neutral description, depending on what Strawberry is.
“But your eye is fae,” the orange-eyed child says. “What does it do?”
And suddenly, Folly feels at peace.
He’s surrounded by fae, transported to another realm, and trapped by a curse. But he has a flashy robe and an audience, and he isn’t a freak. He’s a performer.
And he knows exactly how to impress these children.
“I won my eye in a card game.” Folly taps his left cheek. “It allows me to do two things. First, it lets me see the future. Second…” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “It lets me tell lies.”
