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"You're a bad woman," said the one who'd run into me. "My mommy says that you Faeries are all sluts and that you're the reason Daddy left us."
Oh great gods in heaven. How the hell was I supposed to deal with this? And did the girl really even know what the word slut meant? Hoping she didn't, I let out a long sigh and said, "Some Faeries cause problems, and some don't. Just like people…" I stopped, not sure how to explain what I was trying to say, or if I should even bother trying.
Tanya, the redhead, beamed me a huge smile and turned to her friend. "Janie, it's like the bullies at school. Just 'cause Billy yanked my hair doesn't mean all boys are bad."
"That's right," I said, stopping as a tall, thin woman strode up. Janie, the girl who'd decided I had broken up her home, backed up against her. Mother and daughter, that much was obvious. Her mother looked like she wanted to drown me right then and there.
"Get away from my daughter, you bitch," the woman muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. I glanced at Janie, thinking it was a shame she was going to grow up so angry. How could she help it with a role model like that?
"I didn't mean to interfere—" I started, then shut my mouth. It wouldn't do any good. But as I turned to walk away, Tanya tugged on my jacket. I looked down at her as she handed me the carnation.
"I still think you're a Faerie princess," she whispered.
I winked at her. "Maybe I am, but I'm in disguise, so don't tell anybody, okay?" She giggled and ran off, beaming. I watched her go. So I told a few white lies now and then. What could it hurt, if I could make somebody's dream come true?
The Fairy Tale, a clothing shop, catered to the renaissance crowd, and the owner, Jill Tucker, was an accomplished seamstress. She did a good business in both custom and off-the-rack clothing, and Iris had hired her a couple times over the past few months to make her custom outfits. I leaned on the counter, smiling at the pewter dragons that paraded across the shelf next to the register. Camille should buy one for Smoky, I thought, but then nixed the idea. It would probably seem stupid to someone as old as he was. Hell, he probably had solid gold statues tucked away somewhere in his barrow.>"You mean you can't afford anything but a dive," I countered. "Sorry, I'm not about to get in the middle of your quarrel. Camille and I both told you this was a stupid idea, but no, you two had to go ahead and take the plunge. Now you've only been there a few days, and you're already whining."
As much as I wanted to be done with this conversation, curiosity got the best of me. "Tell me, Trillian, just how did you get Chase to let you stay with him in the first place?"
I couldn't figure it out. Chase was a smart man who liked his privacy. He wasn't a pushover in any way, and I knew he didn't trust Trillian. How the two ever ended up as roomies—even temporarily—confounded me.
Trillian said nothing, turning to go into the kitchen, but I caught a glint in his eyes. I grabbed hold of his shoulder and spun him around.
"You bewitched him, didn't you? You blasted him with that damned magnetism you Svartans ooze from every pore, and he didn't stand a chance!" Hands on my hips, I leaned down—I was a little taller than him—and let him have it. "That's the most low-down, arrogant trick in the book and—"
"Might I remind you of one thing?" he said mildly, inspecting his fingernails. "Your detective is head over heels because of your half-Fae blood, my dear, so don't even dare try to guilt-trip me. Just what did Camille say when she found out you charmed our illustrious detective?"
Abruptly, I shut my mouth and took a step back. So he'd figured out that I'd turned up my glamour that first night Chase and I'd been alone. And Chase still didn't know about it. I'd been so ashamed afterward about using it on an unsuspecting FBH that I hadn't told Camille. She thought Chase had made the first move, and so did Chase. So did Menolly. And I was determined to keep them all deluded.
Trillian let out a short bark of laughter. "She doesn't know. does she? You didn't tell her that you enchanted lover boy, did you?"
I glared at him. "Chase was bothering Camille, and she wasn't interested in him so I… just—"
"Took him off her hands for her? This is absolutely priceless," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, pussycat. Let's eat breakfast. You and I are more alike than you'll ever admit. Camille can be ruthless when she chooses, but she's up-front about it. You put on a good front, but behind that facade, you're no meek little puss-in-boots, are you?"
I gritted my teeth and said nothing. Trillian might be an absolute ass, but he called the shots as he saw them. And he saw through me clear as crystal. I'd been interested in Chase, even though I wouldn't admit it, because I was curious about sex and the whole orgasm-with-people thing. He was cute and available. But I knew that he'd go on dogging Camille, even though she didn't want him, so I turned on the charm the first chance I was alone with him. I was as guilty as Trillian was in using my glamour to get what I wanted.
"I didn't tell Camille because…"
"Oh, you don't have to explain your reasons to me. I don't really give a damn. But from now on, maybe you won't fuss about my relationship with Camille or my use of a little bewitchment here and there."
I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face and protest that we were nothing alike. That I would never stoop as low as a Svartan might. But I'd only be lying to myself.
"I didn't even know I was interested in Chase, not until I knew for sure that Camille didn't want him," I said. "I was as surprised as anybody when he actually responded to me."
Trillian stood back to let me by. Shaking my head, I pushed past him into the kitchen, where Iris was fixing pancakes and sausage.
As he swung in behind me, I turned so quickly that he bumped into me. I whispered, "If you have a bone to pick with Chase, do it yourself. But listen and listen good: if you hurt him, I'll sic Menolly on you. She doesn't like you, and she's just waiting for the word. Trust me on that one."
Trillian snorted but said nothing. He pushed into the kitchen and leaned down to plant a kiss on Iris's cheek.
She handed him a plate and motioned to the table. "Fatten yourself up, boy," she said. "Breakfast is ready, and there's more on the griddle."
Trillian settled himself at one end of the table and speared a hotcake with his fork, loading it thickly with butter and honey.
Iris flashed me a wicked grin. She was the only one who could keep him in check. He usually settled down after Iris gave him a direct order. Camille had formulated a theory that Iris must remind Trillian of his mother. I thought that was probably stretching it, but who knew?
I piled a plate high with hotcakes and sausage and poured myself a large glass of milk. Iris looked gratified as I dug into the breakfast. "So, what's on your schedule today?" I asked her.
