Page 71 of My Faire Lady

“Feel the same?” Frankie smacks the table. “That human of yours baked a cake and rounded up every single creature on this land, and they’re waiting in the courtyard to surprise you for your birthday.”

My lips part, and I stare out the window, at the sun creeping closer to the horizon. The only time the creatures endure everyone’s presence is during a summons, but Lottie got them together without a speck of magic.

“She did that?” I whisper. “For me?”

“Yes.” Frankie tilts her head toward the door. “But act surprised, or Lottie will kill me. Her words, not mine.”

I smile, all warmth, and stand from the table. “Okay.”

As I follow Frankie out the door and through the compound hallways, my stomach coils like a spring. Something came over me when I traced that rune against Lottie’s palm, and the breathy sigh that came from her lips has played through my mind all day. Neither of us have denied being attracted to the other, but I’m so accustomed to keeping my feelings folded into a box, the lid nailed shut.

But each time I see Lottie, another nail loosens.

Suddenly, I’m hyper aware of everything. My footsteps, the sound of my voice, the way I breathe. She doesn’t see me as the last remaining Murrell witch who is solely responsible for magic. To her, I’m just Scarlet.

And I have no idea who that is.

We come to the ground level, and through the clouded glass, the courtyard seems empty. But a glimmer of sprite magic glistens, so faint I wouldn’t know it was there if I wasn’t looking.

“Ready?” Frankie says, gripping the handle.

The pounding of my heart drowns out the world, but I set my face into stone. “Ready.”

Frankie swings open the door, and we step out.

At first, nothing happens. I hold my breath as the sky turns a bruised purple and the stars peek through the heavens. Something shifts in the air, and the glamour drops.

As one, in every language known and unknown, they scream, “Surprise!”

The unease choking my lungs snaps, and a smile spreads across my face as I take them in—these creatures who find refuge here, many of whom are older than I can comprehend. Fae, sprites, harpies, selkies, vampires, goblins. Phoenixes flutter overhead, dripping embers from their wingtips. Griffins and centaurs and dragons.

My family.

As if there was a rope tethered from my sternum to her, my eyes find Lottie. She’s beaming, holding a two-tiered cake that weighs down her arms. Her hair is gathered at the back of her head, secured with a clip, but curls spill around her face, resting against the corners of her lips.

Tears threaten to climb my throat, but I swallow them down. “How’d you do this?”

She passes the cake to Boden and shrugs. “I think you underestimate how much they care about you. Come on, everyone has gifts.”

I grimace.

She lets out a small laugh, weaving her fingers through mine. “Don’t worry, it won’t take long. And I’m with you.”

We share a look, and while I’m not pressing any of my magic into her skin, there’s a friction between our palms.

I nod. “Lead the way, then.”

She pulls me into the crowd, and two sprites flutter down, setting a crown of daisies on my head. Lottie chuckles, and as I shift my attention to her, a pair of sprites lowers a matching one to hers.

One of the vampires clinging to the shadows steps forward and pulls a dahlia from behind her ear, passing it to me. Her fanged canines flash from beneath her smile, and as her gaze lands on the steady pulse of Lottie’s throat, her pupils widen.

I wrap an arm around Lottie’s waist and shift her to my other side, giving the vampire a stern glare. “Don’t even think about it.”

She slinks back into the shadows, and species by species, the creatures all bestow a gift to me—a string of jewels from the fae, an incandescent scale from the selkies. They’re unconventional, impractical, but I hold each trinket close to my heart, like I do them.

As dusk gives way to night, the sprites string up rows of lights, casting a buttery glow over the courtyard. On a makeshift stage in the corner, a fae brandishes a fiddle, and another begins a melancholy song in an ancient language.

Lottie steps in front of me and extends a hand. “Time for my gift.”