Page 14 of Sweetling
“Get out and never come again,”she’d growled into the shadows.
And he hadn’t. Thank the fates, he hadn’t.
Her uncle was a coward, down to his very core. It was what she hated most about him. He was a bully, as some cowards were, and enjoyed picking on those littler and lesser than him. Unfortunately, he was blessed with a modicum of charm and, at least when younger, good looks, and those got him far enough.
And five children.
His children were the only thing Molly liked about him. Did she resent that she became another parent to them whenever Brom’s wife or lover up and left in disgust with him? Sure. But Bryan, Nora, Merry, Rory, and Oona hadn’t chosen their father. And they offered Molly some semblance of a family. They were why, three years ago, she hadn’t left Dundúran with the man who’d claimed to love her.
When school ended and she faced the prospect of being in that tavern all day with Uncle Brom, she’d found an older group of youths to join. They welcomed her, and she thought for a while that she had finally found people to accept her. They showed her all thebest hidey-holes in the city, even breaking into Castle Dundúran to watch a banquet and sneer at all the rich folk in their finery. They stole, and they had her steal, too, convinced that it was their due—the forgotten youth of the city. She could pick a lock, a pocket, and the winning horse thanks to her years running with them.
That Molly would’ve done anything for her friends—lied, stolen, harmed. And she had. She’d been one strike away from spending time in gaol, but it hadn’t mattered. They were her friends. She thought she was in love with their leader, Finn. He promised her a better life, that they deserved more.
But the cracks had begun to show when she grew a little older. Their wildness began to taste like sour beer. Finn came apologizing after another night with another woman one too many times. Eventually, the law caught up to Finn, and he was exiled from Dundúran. He declared they’d go to the capital of Gleanná, really make it, but Molly couldn’t bring herself to go.
Her little cousins, the tavern, they needed her.
The decision felt right, and she hadn’t missed Finn and the others as much as she’d once thought she would. Still, three years on, there were times she regretted being left behind.
What would her life look like in Gleanná? Bigger than the tavern walls, that was for sure.
Without her friends, Molly’s world had contracted to just the tavern. She loved the place, in its own way, and enjoyed seeing many of the regulars. But the children were growing up. The tavern was becoming rundown, despite her best efforts. Uncle Brom was getting surly in his middle age, not resigned yet to having lost his looks and most of his charm.
A restlessness was growing inside her, aknowingthat soon, it was time. For what, she didn’t know. When, she didn’t know either. Just that it was coming and when it did—she’d know.
Grit and big tits could get her places, she well knew, and now she had a tidy little sack of coins to help her with whatever came next.
She practically twirled through the tavern that day, earning her a bemused grunt from Brom. It seemed like the happier she was, the grumpier he became—all the more reason to make herself happy.
When she next turned around to greet a new patron, Molly’s heart kicked in her chest.
The fae stood there, looming in the doorway. Late afternoon sunlight filtered in behind him, framing his tall form in an amber-lined silhouette. His dark cloak, draped over impossibly wide shoulders, cascaded behind him as he strode slowly inside.
Molly’s breath caught in her throat.
Allarion.That was his name. And his unicorn was Bellarand. He’d told her these things, of course, but only after many visits to the tavern. She’d found out long before, though, asking around at the other alehouses and wells and washing fountains.
Fates, she was stupid to feel this kind of thrill at the sight of him, come like a wraith in the night. Those black eyes and sharp teeth should’ve terrified her.
She hadn’t felt desire for a man since Finn, having decided they weren’t worth it. She’d had enough male attention to last a lifetime.
Still, when those inhuman eyes fell on her, Mollyfelt it.
Smiling, she greeted him and waved him on to his usual table in the back.
He was quickly becoming one of the regulars at the tavern, appearing every few days through summer. Each time, Molly tried to coax a little more out of him, even if he seemed perfectly content to lurk in the back and watch.
She didn’t know how he didn’t get bored, just sitting there with a beverage he never intended to drink, but was grateful for his presence, nevertheless. Other patrons were on their best behavior when he was there, which meant no chair-breaking brawls or shouting matches, and everyone left promptly after last call. Perfection.
“And who’d you like to sit with today?” she asked, smiling at her own joke. “We have a new cider in, and just got a crate of red wine straight from Endelín.”
“A mead, please. I enjoy the scent.”
Molly bit her cheek to keep from smiling too wide. He almost always got a mead.
“I’ll bring that right out,” she said with a wink. She’d yet to find a line to toe with the mysterious fae.
I almost wouldn’t mind being grabbed by him,she thought as she turned away.
