Page 10 of Sweetling
Molly wasn’t sure how long she stood there gawping at him but hoped it wasn’t too long to be rude—or that at least as a fae, he wouldn’t know the difference.
Smiling wide to hide how her belly fluttered with that something, she said, “Hello again. I don’t have your usual here, that’s two tables down.”
“Hello,” he said in that way of his, not slow but not hurried either. Measured. “Whatever you have is fine.”
“Maybe you’ll care for cider more than mead,” she quipped, a gentle poke at him never seeming to drink much of what she brought him in the tavern.
He reached for the tankard she offered, and Molly couldn’t help noticing that his hands were ungloved. She didn’t think she’d ever seen his fingers before and noted the scars on his knuckles.
A fighter.
She also couldn’t help noticing the faint black pattern just below his pale purple-gray skin. His veins. There were prominent ones tracing up his neck, with fainter, spidery veins spread like a root system across his cheeks and forehead. It’d taken her a few visits to figure out they weren’t faded tattoos or markings but veins.
It maybe should have disgusted her, horrified her, even. Just the opposite, though.
His large hand fell over hers to take the tankard, lingering for longer than necessary. Molly knew a lingerer when she felt it, but unlike other times, she didn’t efficiently pull her hand away.
She lingered, too.
“What I care for is that you are the one to offer it,” he said, those thin lips pulling back into something of a smile. It revealed elongated eyeteeth—fangs—which should have been terrifying.
A blush marched up Molly’s neck to heat her cheeks.
“Oh…”
She’d heard it all, every line and compliment, but somehow, in that voice that was deeper than mountains and oceans, she nearly melted.
Get hold of yourself!
Her fascination with the fae served no purpose—and he was holding up the queue.
But once more, just as quickly as he arrived, the fae bowed his head. “Good day, miss,” he said with grave politeness. “Until next time.”
“Farewell,” she managed through her stupor, just as he turned on his heel to head off in the direction of the large castle stables.
Next time,he’d said. There would be a next time.
Molly’s heart fluttered with excitement as she dared to think the most outrageous thing she’d ever thought.
What if…he comes to see me?
A sharp elbow caught her in the ribs, and Molly startled, looking up to see a grinning Jennet beside her. Another barmaid, for a tavern down the way, and one of Molly’s friends, Jennet waggled her fair eyebrows.
“What wasthat?”
“Nothing,” Molly grumbled.
“More importantly,whowas that?”
“No one.”
“That the fae they’ve been talking all about? With the unicorn?”
“Yes.”
Jennet’s grin grew insufferable. “And?”
“And nothing. He comes to the tavern sometimes, is all.”
