Page 21 of My Fae Lady

Giselle’s excitement returned as we climbed into the coach. She gave the floorboards a kick, and the wheels carried us forward. In a perfectly unladylike fashion that quite suited her for reasons I’d rather not dwell upon, she let out a whoop.

Pride glittered in her eyes.

“You’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?” I teased.

“Quite insufferable,” she agreed. “You won’t be able to tell me a thing for days.”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked her about the magic she’d used. She told me all about the clever lens of light and what the angle and shade told her of the properties it revealed. I didn’t have a mind for artifacts. Unseelie magic was more grounded in flesh and feeling than the calculated essence she drew from to solve magical problems.

And then she spoke of the house and all its mysteries, and her expression lit up like a firework, eyes burgundy and full of a joy so palpable I could almost reach out and grasp it, but I didn’t dare. I kept my expression level and my hands firmly at my sides in the crowded space. The rugged road jostled us closer and closer together until the weight of her thigh pressed against mine.

She paused her lecture for the briefest moment, acknowledging the touch with the faintest glance.

And she didn’t move away.

It felt like a dare. I too kept my place there, the heat of her warming my side.

“The snow in Drow is blacker than a crow,” she said, cutting the tension building between us.

“Oh no. Not that again,” I moaned.

“Your accent is all fae. It’s a fine accent . . .” she said, and then her cheeks went pink for a moment for a reason I couldn’t pinpoint. She shook her head as though to clear it. “I mean, of course, it’s a fine accent for the forest. It won’t serve us in town, however.”

I sucked on my teeth for a moment, and then I pronounced “snow” so that it rhymed with the town of Drow instead of rhyming with the word “dew”.

She made me practice the line three more times before she launched into an exploration of the impact of Seelie constraints on flows of wayward Unseelie magic and the ways in which wild magic defied the known limitations of fae power.

I spoke very little, and yet time sped by. This topic was far more interesting than any etiquette lesson.

Several hours later, we stopped at a modest inn surrounded by quiet countryside. Giselle left me to watch the magical coach while she secured our stay and supper.

When she returned, her face had fallen. “We’ll have to share a room,” she said gravely. “They only have one to spare.”

“What?” I spluttered. My cheeks went hot. “But I don’t even see another carriage. How many guests could they possibly have all the way out here?”

Only one room? My heart jumped in my chest, and for reasons beyond my comprehension, that pesky bargain kiss we shared came roaring back to my memory: bodies pressed together, her summer-sweet smells filling my senses…

Who would get to sleep on the bed? I certainly wasn’t going to sleep on the floor.

I muttered a curse.

Giselle’s face split into a wide grin. “I’m only teasing you. There’s absolutely no one out here. I thought it was obvious. Why on earth do you look so flustered?”

My next response came out incoherent, more gruff growl than clear syllables. Not even I was certain what I was trying to say. Feeling strangled by my shirt, I tugged the collar loose.

“Go on then, you menace. After you,” I managed to mutter, flapping my hands at the front entrance. “I’ll get our luggage.”

⊱❀⊰

Late the next morning we’d reached the heavy curtain of magical fog that separated Faerie from the human realm. The tallest buildings came into view, a hotel and a bank, their gables and chimneys peeking out through the dense gray. The carriage, weakened by the lessening of the arcane here, lumbered onward until the fog cleared entirely and it could carry us no farther. It tipped forward where the road turned from mud to cobblestone.

Giselle let out a surprised yelp. She was so lost in conversation that the sudden halt toppled her forward. I caught her before she could crack her head against the front of the cabin, jerking her into my lap.

Her cheeks pinkened as I helped her upright. We climbed out awkwardly.

“It’s a good thing we’re already getting married,” she said, gesturing at the crowded walkways of the nearby human town. “Such impropriety in front of so many witnesses and without a chaperone would have ruined me.”

“Is that all it takes?” I shook my head. “Humans are strange creatures indeed if something so small could destroy a lady’s reputation.”