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Chapter Fourteen

I’d packed a bit of cloth in the satchel, tucking it tightly around the bag of coins so they didn’t jangle as I walked. Maybe I was being a bit paranoid, but I didn’t particularly want to be the gullible, clueless mortal wandering round a fae village with a heavy sack of coins announcing my presence.

I was incredibly nervous as the village loomed closer, wishing Caom was with me. Would the Folk ignore me? Try to cheat me or trick me? Refuse to serve me entirely?

Now that I had to go into the village to get clothes for this dinner, I was determined to find a vendor selling the seeds I wanted. If I had to deal with the Carlin and her terrible sons for an evening, I was at least going to get something good out of it.

“A little mortal shouldn’t wander all alone among the Folk.”

The moment I set foot in the village, one of the fox fae appeared and slunk alongside me. It was the one who’d propositioned me the night of my welcome party. My shoulders went stiff, and I didn’t look over at him.

He huffed. “Getting braver, are we? Confident you can hold your own?”

When I still stayed silent, walking quicker, he barked out a laugh.

“Have you changed your mind about that fuck, mortal?”

“No,” I gritted out.

“Shame. Have you fucked the gancanagh yet?”

“Why are you so concerned about who I’m fucking?” I shot back, clutching my satchel tighter. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and distract me with these childish questions while he robbed me blind.

“Why don’t you join us for a drink?” he asked instead of answering, gesturing at the tavern. “And a few games? Darts?”

“No.”

“Well, aren’t you just a barrel of laughs,” he sneered, russet eyes flashing. “Have fun on your own, mortal boy.”

He slunk off, and I let out a silent, relieved breath. But then a high-pitched voice was calling to me from a shop doorway, stiffening my limbs back up.

“Come and do your shopping in here, mortal,” the fae called, then snickered. “I’ll make sure to give you thebestprices.”

“Don’t serve him, Frinda,” another fae sneered as he walked past, staring at me with pig-like eyes in a yellow-tinged face. “Mortal scum.”

I put my head down and kept walking, even though I had no idea where I was going. Would any of them serve me? The Folk were greedy. Surely the lure of money would force them to sell me stuff even if they hated the idea of it.

I spotted a little shop with rows of plants sitting out the front, and I veered that way just so I had somewhere to actually go. The interior was cool and dark and smelled like vegetation, and it helped unclench my shoulders just a little.

One wall of the small space was made up entirely of tiny cubbies with neat, handwritten labels affixed to the fronts. Wooden boxes were slotted into each shelf, hiding the contents, but as I hesitantly stepped closer, I smiled.

Wood sorrel seeds. Yarrow seeds. St John’s Wort seeds. Bearded iris bulbs. Destroying angel spores. Fool’s funnel spores. Thyme seeds. Rosemary seeds.

“What do you want?”

The shopkeeper’s voice was not friendly, and part of me wanted to duck my head and just leave. I forced myself not to. I wanted the seeds, damn it. It was theonlything I wanted.

“Some seeds,” I said shortly. “Do I take them myself, or do you need to?”

The fae sneered, gazing up at me from his shorter height. His skin was a pale, murky blue and his beady eyes were black. Each hand had seven stubby fingers.

“You think I’m going to let you paw at my seeds with your grubby mortal hands?” He stomped off to a ladder on rails that he dragged back with him along the front of the shelves. “What do you want?”

I quickly pulled out my list and read them out, one at a time, watching as the fae stamped up the ladder to retrieve each handful of seeds, which he carelessly added to a cloth bag.

My lips pursed into a thin line. He wasn’t even separating them for me. I’d just have to hope I could distinguish between them when I got home. I’d see if theDrachmsmith’s Gardenbook would help—that had illustrations of the seeds in it.

When he’d gathered all the seeds I wanted, he walked round to the back of the counter with the bag as I approached.


Tags: Lily Mayne Folk Fantasy