“You haven’t heard of me? I’m hurt.” Draping a hand over his heart, Tansy angles his smile at Yarrow. “Tell meyou’veheard of me.”
Yarrow passes the tankard back to Folly. Their fingers touch, the warmth mollifying. “You’re the queen’s changeling.”
Tansy sweeps a bow, bottle held high. “See, brother human, I’m famous throughout the realm. Even this handsome wild fae has heard of me.”
Yarrow stiffens slightly at Folly’s side. A perfect excuse for Folly to surrender to his jealous instincts.
“Could you get us another tankard?” Folly asks, returning the cup. He smiles up at Yarrow, who fixates on his lips.
“Sure, but you have to stay right there.” Yarrow squeezes his shoulder, then heads down the bar to flag Sevastia.
Under dimming lights, Tansy crooks a grin. “You aren’t subtle.”
Good. Folly isn’t trying to be subtle. He’s not about to let this boy make eyes at Yarrow, when Folly hasn’t even fucked him yet. But even his jealousy doesn’t erase his concern. “If you’re a changeling, does that mean you were kidnapped as a child?”
Tansy sighs. “Kidnapping has such negative connotations.”
That isn’t a denial. But if Tansy was ever kidnapped, he looks… happy about it. A healthy glow to his skin, fine clothes, the old bartender’s indulgence. Folly never imagined a human could thrive like this in the fae realm.
Maybe going home isn’t so urgent. All Folly has waiting for him are a wagon he doesn’t own, a boss who won’t take no for an answer, and a family that’s glad he left. If the fae realm was always like this—fewer killer trees, more incredible mead—Folly wouldn’t mind lingering.
“What’s it like, living here?” Folly asks.
Tansy shrugs. “How would I know? It’s normal, I suppose.”
Yarrow returns, and tension Folly hadn’t noticed eases from his belly. This relaxation isn’t all due to the mead. It’s also Yarrow, strong and gorgeous at his side. So interested in Folly that Folly feels he may be worth that interest after all.
“Here you go,” Yarrow says.
And Folly surrenders to instinct. He takes the tankard, then reaches to grab Yarrow by one gleaming horn. The ridges are smooth and warm beneath his palm as he pulls Yarrow down.
Yarrow’s kiss is even warmer.
“Thanks,” Folly murmurs against Yarrow’s lips. Then releases him.
Fascination burns in Yarrow’s eyes. Like Folly is the only one in the courtyard. “You’re welcome.”
Watching the display with one hand on his hip, Tansy mouthsnot subtleto Folly, then skips off into the crowd. Jealous nerves soothed to satisfaction, Folly wraps both arms around Yarrow’s neck.
Yarrow’s next kiss delves so deep, Folly never wants to breathe again.
“Were you jealous?” Yarrow asks, voice warm with delight.
“Maybe,” Folly admits.
Yarrow’s eyes curve in a smile. “I like that, but there’s no reason to be. The boy is what, twelve years old?”
Folly laughs.
Then he blinks, realizing Yarrow is serious. “You have no sense of human ages, do you?”
“I know you look precisely twenty-four.” Yarrow pecks another kiss on Folly’s cheek—then pulls back, trepidation in his eyes. “Unless you’ve been lying about your?—”
Folly silences him with another kiss. “I’m tired of this party.”
Yarrow sets the tankard aside. “Me too.”
And he takes Folly by the wrist.
