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Chapter One
Kent
Rain drummed on my head. Water soaked the outer layers of my cloak and dripped off the edge of my lowered hood. Slogging through the mud and puddles of the northernmost trade road south of the Wild Wood, I grimaced. The damp, moldy scent of moisture permeated the air.
Given my mother’s fae bloodline, I should’ve been reveling in all the water about me. Naiads loved moisture and rain almost as much as they loved ponds and rivers. Not me. I preferred to remain warm and dry. Perhaps my father was a dragon shifter.
I snorted at the thought. It was highly unlikely. Dragon shifters tended to avoid naiads. There are too many differences in their natures. After all, fire and water don’t mix.
The muffled thuds of hooves announced the approach of a horse from behind me. Partially turning with my head lowered, I lifted the edge of my hood with one gloved hand to peer out at the approaching traveler.
He looked human in form and movement as he rode. I stepped to the side of the road, giving the beast and rider plenty of space to pass.
The rider urged his horse faster and veered toward me. I jumped back. I was fast, but not fast enough to avoid the water and mud explosion as the horse pounded through the monstrous puddle next to me.
Growling my irritation, I glared after the rider as I attempted to wipe the grime from my beard. The rider whooped as he galloped away into the growing darkness. “Foolish humans,” I muttered. For he was human. The stench of grime, mold, and less appealing scents coming from him overwhelmed my senses. Not a trace of magic anywhere.
I sighed. Despite living among them my whole life, it amazed me how rude and entitled humans could be. However, my mother repeatedly reminded me that fae were much the same. I struggled to believe it, probably because my mother was the antithesis of arrogance.
Lifting my face to the rain, I closed my eyes and let it drench my skin and beard before I shed my gloves and sluiced the moisture and grime from my face and beard. Then, shaking out the edges of my cloak and adjusting my hood, I set off again.
I had a potential client to meet, and I was already running later than I liked, thanks to the weather.
An hour later, I peered through the sheets of rain at the unfamiliar sight of the Hart and Hare. My stomach growled, reminding me of its emptiness. But the concerning sight of a horse standing in the rain in full tack—lead ends resting in a puddle—made me hesitate on the edge of the road. Directly next to the low, ramshackle structure of the inn was a large barn with open doors and a sign directing patrons to leave their animals within.
I approached the horse, who tossed his head and nickered at the sight of me.
“Your master appears to have abandoned you.” I reached for the creature’s reins. Thankfully, he didn’t protest when I caught them. Wrapping the leather around my gloved hand, I took a step toward the open barn door. The horse placidly followed me.
Once I stepped beneath the shelter of the barn, a small boy appeared from the shadows.
“Take your horse, master,” the young lad offered. “I will rub it down and make sure it eats and drinks.”
“It isn’t my horse.” I followed him deeper into the barn. The boy couldn’t be more than a decade old. Skinny and dirty, he appeared almost worse off than the animal I was leading. “Are you sure you are old enough to take care of such large animals?” I asked.
“Do it all the time, master. At home and here when they need an extra hand.” He motioned toward an empty stall with a clean water pail and fresh straw strewn about the floor. “I will take care of the horse until its owner comes.” He scrambled off and then returned with a feedbag. The horse in the next stall lifted his head over the wall between stalls and nickered to the new arrival.
Assured that the soaked creature next to me would be well cared for, I relinquished the leads to the lad and headed back into the rain toward the tavern.
The downpour eased as I ducked under the eaves. Heat and noise hit me as the door opened and a patron stumbled out into the night. He swore and pulled his collar up over his head in an effort to keep the rain off as he ran toward the barn.
I caught the closing door behind him and stepped into the heat and noise of a full public room.
“Give us a smile!” a man yelled across the room, waving a spoon after the retreating back of a blonde woman.
“Why stop at a smile?” his companion asked as he leered over his mug’s edge. “Why not ask for a kiss?”
“We don’t run that type of establishment, Harold, and you know it!” the hefty tavern keeper at the back of the room roared. “Now sit, you two, and eat your meal without bothering my staff or the other customers.” Meeting my gaze from across the room, he nodded. “Welcome to the Hart and Hare. Choose a table and we shall be over to take your order in a moment.”
Scanning the crowded room, I assessed the options. A long table and benches lined the left wall, clearly intended for larger parties. A group of men—farmers by their garb—with heads bent over their meals already dominated the room. By the tone of their conversations, they were exchanging local news and ignoring the rest of the occupants.
Round tables suitable for parties of three to four filled most of the room. These were full of groups of young men. A scattering of women had accompanied their spouses, but the males outnumbered them by a large margin. Small tables for two stood along the right side. I chose a table in the corner, though it was still piled with dishes from its previous occupants’ meals. After dragging a chair to where I could sit with my back to the corner and watch both the room and the two exits, I settled into it.
Within minutes, the blonde server returned, winding through the tables with a flirtatious smile for the patrons, a cheerful quip for the compliment of one of her admirers, and a wink for the boisterous man who had wanted a smile from her. To my surprise, she didn’t come my way.
“The table is dirty.” A small, young woman appeared at my side and regarded me with confusion. Her mossy-green eyes studied me from beneath a ring of thick braids and a curtain of escaped curls. Small in stature, she appeared to be a drab replacement for her more vibrant coworker. However, I knew that appearances were often deceiving, especially considering she had approached without triggering my heightened senses.
I offered her a nod in greeting.
