Page 88 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

Chapter Twenty-Three

Pippa had only been in Elphame for a few days, but it felt strange to be back in Hallow, with its snowy cobblestone streets and the comfort of the vast Library watching over everything and everyone.

Well, it used to be a comfort. It was slightly less helpful to her now that she was trying to sneak in.

Also less than helpful?

Her very wonderful, and sometimes very loud, friends.

They ambushed her in the courtyard, among the roses. She ought to have expected it, since the flowers whispered to Briar. She waited on a bench, her cane leaning against her knee and her thief of a husband leaning against a tree. Even without an introduction, those who passed by knew enough to avoid Ethan Swansea, the infamous Iron Crow.

Sorcha was there as well, pacing, her red hair catching the weak winter sunlight. Her wolf husband, a curator for the London Museum of Magic and a Scottish earl, was considerably calmer. Even when Sorcha whirled, pointing accusingly at Pippa. “Pippa Cavendish!”

Lachlan went still and sharp. “Friends of yours?”

Pippa smiled, feeling truly rooted for the first time in days. “Yes.”

Sorcha glared at Pippa, head to toe. “Briar saw an upside-down chair in her tea leaves.”

“Which means what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. I don’t read tea leaves.”

“I saw an upside-down cat,” Briar corrected her. “And it means trouble. And since Sorcha was not in any particular kind of trouble for once, I knew it had to be you.”

“And then Aidan smelled something odd when we went to your rooms,” Sorcha added.

“After which, Sorcha broke down the door,” Briar added.

“I had to!”

“You have a key.”

“I didn’t have it on me! And then we found your note.” Sorcha and Briar leveled a joint glare at Pippa. Her moth, being the wisest of them, fluttered into the safety of Pippa’s chest. Briar’s swan familiar snapped at the air, as bad tempered as his witch was even tempered.

“What note?” Lachlan asked.

Sorcha narrowed one eye. “Who are you?”

“This is Professor Thorn,” Pippa introduced him.

Aidan nodded familiarly. “Thorn.”

Lachlan nodded back. “Coventry.”

Sorcha made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat at her husband. “We are not being polite right now, Aidan.”

Aidan smiled. “Apologies, love.”

“Lady Sorcha Carnahan, Countess Coventry.” Pippa introduced the others, before Sorcha could return to her scolding. “Briar and Ethan Swansea.”

Ethan, a great deal more than six feet of Irish Iron Crow, was perfectly willing to do perfectly illegal things for the fun of it. But especially for his wife. And her friends. “All right there, Pippa?” he asked.

Pippa nodded. “Fine, thank you.”

“Rumor has it you went to the Wishing Well.”

Pippa blinked. “How did you…”