Page 33 of A Wolf for Winter

“Mistress Lilac!” Edith beamed a bright smile, holding up the bouquet. “Did you do this?”

“I had a little help,” she admitted. Then she leaned in close. “Edith, I did it.”

The faun’s black eyebrows flew into her curly hair. “You did? Those were your potions I saw everybody using?”

Lilac nodded victoriously.

“Well done!” The faun gave her hand an affectionate little slap. “Look at you, Miss Rebel.”

“I know, right? I wasn’t able to sell half because of some ruined labels, but I did manage to sell out on all the rest. Maybe people will try them out tonight and ask for more tomorrow?”

“I don’t see why not! I’ve been using your stuff for years, why, just look at my horns! No keratin treatment does that.” The faun’s horns were indeed of a superior luster.

Lilac found Edith’s encouragement fanning the flames of her newfound hope. “Maybe, just maybe, I can— Oh hang it all.”

“What?” Edith poked her head beyond her booth and groaned. “Ugh, men.”

A flock of her suitors were jostling each other at a power walk to get to her, more gifts in their hands.

“Can I hide in there with you?”

“Sure, but they already spotted you.”

Lilac sucked in a deep breath.

“If you hold that breath and pass out, maybe they’ll leave you alone,” the faun suggested.

“Or they’ll battle each other over who gets the privilege to take me to the hospital. I mean, I enjoy a good Regency romance with all its manners and decorum and forbidden desires—thanks for The Perfect Rake, by the way—but ugh, what I would give for a shadow daddy right now.”

“I can’t help you with that now, unfortunately, this being a family event, but I got me some foil-edged hardcovers of the latest pornmantasy bestsellers if you want to stop by the bookstore later.”

“I just might.”

“Mistress Lilac, there you are,” the closest bachelor declared as if he’d just won a round of Hide and Seek. “I’ve brought you some punch.”

Lilac didn’t take it. In fact, she had to push the cup away from her mouth. “I’m perfectly hydrated, thank you.”

“Perhaps something to nibble on?” This second man had obviously robbed one of the Cat & Cauldron’s servers of their tray and had loaded it with every appetizer just for her.

Lilac’s stomach threatened to betray her at the sight of those phyllo cups stuffed with melted Brie cheese and raspberry preserves, little slivers of almonds on top promising a satisfying crunch. Especially after refusing that monstrosity Allen had called breakfast. Yet, years of her grandmother’s fatphobia made her resist the indulgence.

“I’ve got something stronger than punch, if that’s appealing to you.” A third bachelor removed a flask from his inner coat pocket and gave it a roguish wiggle.

“Oh my.” There was no way she was drinking any of that.

“She said she wasn’t thirsty, Brandon,” the first one hissed.

“And I guess you’re drinking all that punch by yourself, Landen,” he sneered, replacing the flask. “Too bad it won’t keep you warm like this whiskey will.”

“Wanna bet?” Landen chugged first one punch, belched, then immediately started in on the other Lilac had pushed away.

Lilac rolled her eyes. These men would certainly peacock and compete over the most ridiculous things for her attention. Most of them not even making a lick of sense.

“Classy, Landen,” a fourth chastised. “And right in front of Mistress Lilac, too.”

“Hey, I think he’s turning purple,” Edith said.

The punch cups dropped from Landen’s hands as he jerked back, pawing at his throat.