A woman stepped through the crowd, wearing a weird, long robe-like thing decorated with sequins and beads and stitching. Her wheat-colored hair was pulled up into a bun, and she didn’t smile as she approached. Given her smooth face and her stiff walk, she was more of an errand girl than anyone with experience or clout. Her arrogance wasn’t on par with someone like Romulus, and she wasn’t old enough for something like a council position, if these people had them.
“Welcome,” she said.
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” I replied, because she wasn’t even trying to make that greeting hospitable.
Her deadpan stare said that she wanted a punch in the mouth. I refrained, of course. We were outnumbered.
“Follow me.” She led the way, heading in the direction Emery had glanced. Quaint bungalows overlooked a fragrant garden boasting benches and a fountain. It felt a little like overkill. Half of the area was still under construction, as I’d noticed, but the other half seemed fine and dandy for a little R&R.
“Oh good, a bench. Finally.” Callie hurried to sit down. Dizzy followed, tromping through the flowers. I smirked.
“These are nicer than the last ones,” Penny said as the woman stopped in front of the finished section.
“Yes,” the woman replied, turning away from them. And us. “It was thought…by some that the guest quarters should be a little roomier.”
“Why have guest quarters if you don’t actually want guests?” I asked, honestly confused. I mean, I had a spare room back home—three now—but they’d come with the house (or the unasked-for remodel).
“If you should need to order food, the order form is in there.” She lazily gestured to the side instead of turning. “If you need anything else, I believe the Third is your point of contact.”
“Dang it,” I murmured as she left. “If Charity held a grudge for that one time I killed her mark and then beat her up, this would be the perfect time for her to get even.”
“She’s not the type to hold a grudge,” Penny replied as the shifters approached, Charity and a strange dude in the lead.
“I would hold a grudge,” I said.
“That’s because you’re an asshole.”
“Touché.”
Charity’s gaze took in the construction and then the completed bungalows.
“After all that,” she said to the man, and I noticed Kairi was following close behind them, “you still put them way out here?”
“It was decided that this would be a good location for guests wanting a little privacy,” the man said.
Charity huffed, marching straight past Penny and up the couple of steps into the closest bungalow. Both Kairi and the warrior fae dude followed. I could hear their quick-fire exchange of words but not what they were actually saying. A moment later, Charity came back out, her face screwed up with anger.
“I will take this up with Grandmama,” she said, stopping in front of everyone. “Roger, forgive us. It seems we don’t have the capacity to house you as you housed us. Rest assured, I will take it up with the governing body immediately.”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Roger replied, holding a folded-up garment, his backpack, and standing nude. He’d stayed in animal form in the rear for most of the journey, ready to be the first line of defense turned offense. The last two of the three groups foolish enough to approach us had been dispatched by him before everyone else caught on. “We’ll be fine here.”
“I just hope the beds are actually off the ground this time,” the surfer guy—Andy, I thought his name was—said miserably.
Charity nodded, gave Devon a poignant look, and then stalked away. Devon glanced at Roger.
“Go,” he urged.
Devon nodded and jogged after Charity. He’d be staying with her.
“Okay.” I looked at Roger. “Any rhyme or reason to where we stay?”
“We’ll be protected here,” Emery responded. “The elves won’t risk approaching these lands with the intent to do violence. They know Romulus plans to visit them, and bring us with him, so they’ll start planning for that.”
“Awesome. We’re giving them a head start and home advantage, all on a couple of Seers’ say-so.” Even though I’d tried to ignore talk of what the Seers had said, I’d picked up on that much.
“Yup,” Roger murmured, which was surprising, given he didn’t usually voice things like that. But like everyone else, he didn’t seem inclined to do anything about it. Maybe he just didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t say I did either. So instead, I turned toward the first bungalow.
The one I chose had two bedrooms, a smallish kitchen without an oven, a menu that I would absolutely be ordering from—though, without a phone, I wasn’t sure how—and a table in the living room. I fell onto the couch, which was plush and comfortable.
“Better than a hotel room,” I said, wishing there was something to prop my feet up on. The coffee table would have to do. “Nearly as big as my first house. You know the one, Darius, before you came in and expanded it so much that people now feel comfortable camping out in my living room.”