He chuckled and nudged me back. “It’s too earthy. Not sweet enough.”
“Youdohave a sweet tooth.”
My breath caught in my throat as we approached the tree that Lonan had pressed me up against that night, his mouth hot and hungry on mine before he’d dropped to his knees.
The blackbird was sitting on the edge of a branch, beady eyes watching us, taking everything in to report back to the Carlin. I narrowed my eyes at it before looking away as Caom slung his arm over my shoulder.
“Will you stay for a drink at the tavern? After you’ve done your shopping?”
“Erm…” I rubbed my face. “Maybe.”
I’d been back to the tavern with Caom and his friends a few times now. Pathetically hoping that Lonan would reappear to walk me home. It hadn’t happened.
Idony was still mostly sulky and barely spoke to me. Belial joined us often, trying not to stare openly at Caom even as Idony stared openly at him. It galled me, because he’d poisoned me, but I actually quite liked Belial. He was calm and quiet and spoke to me almost like an equal. He never tried to trick me with words or trap me in promises like all the other Folk I had to interact with when I bought things or got accosted in the village.
The fox fae from my welcome party jeered at me every time they spotted me, trying to get me to play games with them or make bets about ridiculous things. Caom had told me they were reynards and to not trust a word out of their mouths.
That wasn’t a problem. I didn’t trust a word out of anyone’s mouth, not even his.
The village was fairly quiet when we got there. Most of the Folk seemed more active in the mornings, before there was a lull as they prepared for whatever their evening plans were. They were most active at night, when it was dark. The tavern was always teeming, as was the café, which stayed open just as late.
I hadn’t set foot in the café, because when I’d passed it one day, the owner had been outside clearing tables. He was a gangly fae with brown skin that looked like bark, and green hair that was layered like petals. He’d narrowed his solid white eyes when he spotted me, then spat at my boots.
Part of me had wanted to march up to him and punch him in the face. My blood had boiled with anger and embarrassment, and I’d only gotten more agitated when my first thought had been to wonder if Lonan was lurking close by and had witnessed it.
So I didn’t bother going near the café, because I was fairly certain the owner wouldn’t serve me. Even though my mouth watered every time I caught the scent of rich coffee wafting from its open door and saw Folk sipping the dark liquid from little wooden cups when they were sitting outside.
Caom was in a good mood as we walked down the street, chattering about helping the royal seamstress make a special dress for the Carlin because she didn’t have the right buttons. I took my chance to slip into the bookshop and buy more ink while he was distracted talking to Idony outside. I eyed theAdvanced Drachmsmithbook longingly as I left, tracking my gaze over its deep burgundy leather cover.
Idony stalked off with barely a look at me before Caom and I went to the grocer for me to buy some fresh produce. I got some more soap and the oil I liked to add to my bath, which had a faint rosemary scent.
Caom bought us both some honeyed meat wrapped in vines, so we sat down on a bench to eat it, with him sitting slightly closer than appropriate so our knees brushed. He sighed happily around a mouthful while I carefully picked through mine, trying to find bits that weren’t totally doused in sweet sticky syrup.
“Are you done shopping?” he asked me. “Shall we go and get a drink? You know,” he added with a nudge, “I still haven’t seen you drunk yet. We must change that. Let’s get you to come out of your shell.”
I stiffened, slowly chewing. “I don’t have a shell.”
Caom laughed like I’d said something hilarious. “You do. So quiet and reserved all the time, never really relaxed. Iknowyou, Ash.”
But he didn’t. He didn’t really know me. None of them here knew me. They all just saw me as the stranger whose mortal skin they were waiting to be shed. I didn’t share things with Caom. I made sure not to.
The only ones I shared things with were the cat and the wolf, and they couldn’t answer back. Or tell anyone.
“Maybe a wild night with the fae will be what sheds this mortal skin.”
I stiffened again when Caom’s long fingers trailed over my forearm. I kept my head bent, not knowing what to do. If I cut ties with Caom, I’d really have no one at all. No one to come into the village with or take walks with. I didn’t really trust him, but at least his acquaintance was fairly easy. Surface level.
“Or maybe a wild night with just one fae,” he said in a low voice, but it held an edge of uncertainty. Nerves.
I swallowed and looked at him. His copper eyes were burnished in the very last of the sun’s rays before they slipped behind the horizon and the sky turned murky purple in a rush. Even though it had only just gotten dark, it felt dangerous to be alone with him at night. Not because I was tempted, but because the Folk were in their element at night. And I was just a mortal, susceptible to their tricks and games and manipulations.
His touch didn’t make me feel anything except mild discomfort. I knew what he was—what a gancanagh was, because the fox fae had told me—but whatever power he had to seduce didn’t work on me.
“Let’s go to the tavern.” I jumped up, leaving the mostly-untouched meat in its vine on the bench.
I heard Caom sigh as he stood up, and we walked in silence down the darkening street, the white-blue glow from the windows above the shops casting little pockets of light over the Folk laughing and talking outside the tearoom and café.
As we made our way towards the tavern, I couldn’t help but eye the café. There were big canvas sacks of coffee beans for sale in the window, and I stopped when a fae strolled outside and past us holding one of the bags, the rich scent reaching my nose.