Page 45 of Sweetling
Molly braced herself.
“I wish to tell you all I can and will answer whatever you ask. I want you to feel confident and comfortable with me.” He waited for her to nod before continuing, “But I hope you will permit me a question of my own.”
“Seems only fair,” she allowed.
Allarion nodded gravely. “I’ve wanted to ask before—is Molly your full name?”
She stared at him, waiting for more, and then blinked in surprise at the banality of his question.
“Yes. Well, my family name is Dunne, but Molly is my whole given name, yes.”
He made a noise—almost like he was disappointed.
A surprised laugh escaped her. “Why?”
“I—it’s only…fae have long names. Many humans do as well. I merely wondered if Molly was perhaps short for something longer.”
“Afraid not, it’s just plain Molly.”
“Never plain,” he insisted. “Just…succinct.”
“I’m almost scared to ask, but—what’s your full name?”
He perked up, shoulders straightening, as if he enjoyed this question. “I am Allarion Salingar Undori Bar-sil Meringor, first son and third child of my mother Idrisil, rider of Bellarand the Black, betrothed of…Molly Dunne.”
She snorted with laughter at how ridiculous his names were—and how ridiculous hers were compared to them. Then could only laugh harder to see how her having such a short name truly did seem to vex him.
“That’s the short of it, yes,” she giggled. “If you wanted, since you’re in human lands now, I could shorten your name. Call you…Larry?”
His disgust was potent, his mouth pulling down as if he’d tasted something intensely sour.
“Not Larry? All right, what about—”
“Allarion will do fine.”
“Are you sure? I thought you wanted to integrate with us humans.”
“Yes,I’m sure.”
“Fine, Allarion, then.” She snapped her fingers. “What would we call Bellarand? Randy?”
An evil grin overtook his fine fae face. “Nowthatwould be amusing.”
For all that Mullon was a terrible name, the town itself was quaint. Orderly rows of stone cottages and multilevel wattle and daub homes spread out from the town center, where a permanent marketplace had been erected on the cobblestone square.
It was a bustling place—of course much smaller than Dundúran but still bigger than the village Molly had first lived in with her parents. Children and dogs scampered about, people gathered at the well to fetch water for washing, merchants haggled over their stall counters, and shopkeepers stood in their doors chatting with passersby. Colorful garlands and flags had been strewn across the square from tall poles, and a few old linden trees offered plenty of shade for those taking their luncheon.
Despite the hubbub, the town itself nearly went still at the sight of the fae.
Molly had hoped that without Bellarand, perhaps they might not make too much of a sight, but she’d been wrong. Most everyone within eyesight stopped what they were doing to gawk at the fae—and her beside him.
For his part, Allarion didn’t miss a step, nodding and greeting people he seemed to know. Molly trotted behind, anxious all of a sudden with so many eyes fastened on her. It was almost like…they were more curious about her.
She stuck close to Allarion, though not so close that she couldn’t make a run for it if the crowd turned.
To her surprise, one of the first shopkeepers they walked past, an older man with a graying beard, smiled cheekily at them, revealing his missing front tooth.
“Good day to you, master fae,” said the shopkeeper.
