Page 64 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

Jaro rolls his eyes. “Give her a minute to enjoy herself.”

“She’s getting excited about nothing,” Drystan retorts. “The markets were triple this size ten years ago, larger still when the Fourth Nicnevin was alive.”

Now that he’s pointed it out, I start looking in earnest. On closer inspection, the stalls are spaced quite far apart, and I suppose the shops are a bit quieter than they probably could be.

“We’re going the long way,” Lore complains. “It would be quicker to just take her through the pleasure district.”

Both Jaro and Drystan glare at the redcap, and I blush.

“It’s okay, I want to see everything,” I promise. All three of them look at me with varying levels of disbelief, until my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “What? How bad can it be? Kitarni said I should be getting accustomed to fae culture.”

Lore is the one who responds. “Have you ever seen a goblin orgy?”

I shake my head.

He cackles. “Do you want to? They have more piercings on their hairy green tallywhackers than most Winter Court high fae. But the smell.” He shudders. “They produce a mating musk that smells like rotting fish.”

Drystan stiffens behind me and spurs our horse to walk faster. I burn to ask what Lore meant by piercings. Surely males don’t want needles anywhere near that particular appendage?

And what would that feel like during the actual act?

No. I’m not going there. Bad Rose.

I lean over to Lore, who’s trotting to catch up. “You’re going to explain that to me later.”

“No. He is not.”

I glare back at Drystan. “If it’s a cultural—”

“Not his culture. Not his explanation to give.”

So we’ve switched to short, snippy sentences now? I sigh, allowing disappointment to fill me. I suppose Drystan does have a point, but his terse language and grumpy disposition have me feeling wicked.

I don my most innocent air and smile up at him. “So, will you tell me?”

Jaro almost chokes on his own laughter. “You opened yourself up to that one.”

Drystan, however, is not amused. “No.”

For the briefest instant, his amber eyes meet mine, and they’re so cold that I don’t push him.

Now that I know they’re there, it’s easy to tell when we pass a brothel. They’re more popular than the other shops, even though they’re just as colourful. Behind their large windows, males and females beckon to passers-by. Their clothes aren’t revealing in the true sense of the word—or at least, no more so than any other fae clothes I’ve seen—but there’s just something about them… not quite friendly… just inviting.

“Stop looking,” Jaro hisses, riding between me and the brothel.

“Agreed,” Drystan says. “Eyes on us or not at all.”

I cock my head to one side. Are they… jealous? No way. They’d have to be irrational. None of the males in the windows are even half as appealing, and they must know it.

“Don’t panic,” Lore pipes up, helpfully. “I’ve taken notes on all the ones who’ve checked out her pretty tits and the ones she stared at for more than five seconds. They won’t see another sunrise. We can gift her their cocks!”

My mouth hangs open as I stare at him. “You can’t be serious!”

I’m not staring at any of the fae because I’m attracted to them. I’m pretty sure I stared at an ogre for that long just because I was trying to figure out how his hat worked with his horns!

“Severed cocks are an excellent courting gift.”

Dear Goddess, Lore actually seems to believe that. I cast around, searching for someone to tell him otherwise.

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