Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

WREN

T hree fae. Unseelie, judging by their lilac skin and icy eyes, except for the green one.

Fenn's darted past me, and I stare at the trio settling at one of Piper's tables in utter dismay.

Unseelie fae and an… orc? In Wild Oak Woods?

We have minotaurs and I'm pretty sure a vampire or two… an elf runs the boutique on the other side of my store, and a few shifters live in town as well… but a fae—an Unseelie at that—unheard of.

Two High fae from the Underhill.

My hands tremble slightly, and I shove them behind me.

"Aren't you a surprise." The male speaking hasn't so much as glanced away from me since I walked through the door of The Pixie's Perch, hoping for peace after the lunch rush and a pick-me-up pastry before I went back to inventorying gems.

I swallow hard.

He's beautiful, easily the most handsome man I've ever seen.

But beautiful in the way a too-sharp tool might be, all perfectly honed edges and dangerous in uncareful hands.

He'd cut, and deep, and you might not even feel it until you saw the blood.

That is, if anyone was foolish enough to let him too near.

I step closer, intrigued and slightly terrified.

"Who are you?"

Long black lashes flutter shut as he inhales deeply, before a wide smile stretches the corners of his mouth. It's a shade darker than the light purple of his skin, like he bit into a fresh blackberry and it stained it with a summery burst.

"Why, I could be your future, little love," he says, all cockiness.

A thick black vine of a tattoo crawls out from under the sleeve of his shirt, and I blink at it. Surely some trick of the light, or of his, but it looks like the tattoo marks are bleeding into existence while I watch.

A strange buzzing sounds, and my attention finally goes to the other fae, where the noise seems to be emanating from.

"Wings," the first one says through that razor-sharp smile. "That's what the noise is."

The orc makes a strangled sound, eyes as large as dinner plates—but he's not looking at me, no, he's staring openly at the black lines of the tattoo on the light purple fae's hand.

A moon and vines. I have no idea what it signifies, what it could mean to a fae who lives under the earth, no real moon to speak of.

"Bread and salt," Piper calls out, bustling towards the table from the kitchens. She stops in her tracks when she sees me. "Wren, what are you—" She cuts off the question with a sharp intake of air.

She's given them my name.

Names have power amongst the fae—especially in the Underhill.

Piper blanches.

"Wren," the tattooed fae purrs, pinning me in place with his pale, pale blue eyes, as clear as a cold spring. "A lovely name for a lovely witch."

I go hot and cold all over.

"Bread and salt," Piper repeats, jerking her head at me to sit, to join them. There's a bit of annoyance in her eyes, but she doesn't seem overly worried.

No, my pastry-making friend seems… completely fine.

There are two Unseelie fae sitting smack-dab in the middle of her adorable black and white patterned floor, their lavender and deep purple skin complementing the few pastel frosted cakes left under the glass counter.

The massive orc stands out like a sore thumb, and I can't help but notice the way he's watching her hungrily.

I don't think it's just for the honey-soaked loaf glistening on the platter in her hands.

The tattooed fae pushes one of the heart-backed chairs out with a toe, grinning at me as I warily sit beside him.

At least this ritual of bread and salt will give us a modicum of protection, and, with any luck, the ancient custom will protect the rest of our little village. Every muscle in my body's tense, and I focus on the serrated knife Piper expertly wields as she distributes a slice to each of the males at the table.

The men dwarf us, even the leanly muscled winged fae, and it's hard not to be painfully aware of their daunting physical presence.

Not to mention their innate magic, the citrus and smoke flavor of it tingling against my senses.

"I'm Caelan," the tattooed fae says after a perfunctory bite of the bread. "We appreciate your generosity."

The winged male makes a sound of slight disgust, a noise that turns into a muffled moan a second later as the orc spears him with a furious glance.

"I'm Ga'Rek," the orc offers after a beat, smiling broadly at Piper, and then me. "As you've noticed, we're from the Underhill. We are hoping you know of a place we can stay here. Maybe some work."

Piper leans forward, her eyes glimmering with excitement. "As a matter of fact, I need help here. I need another set of hands in the kitchen."

"At the risk of sounding less than humble," the table groans, the platter of sliced bread sliding towards him as he puts his weight on it, "I am a fantastic cook."

Caelan arches an eyebrow, and the pressure of his attention finally flits away, towards the green-skinned orc. "Humility has never been one of your virtues, old friend."

"You would be the expert on that," Ga'Rek tells him cheerfully, and the two laugh uproariously at their shared inside joke, while the third fae sniffs at the bread before taking a delicate bite.

Piper clears her throat, wiping a crumb from her lips. "I don't have need of three bodies in my kitchen, though," she tells them apologetically. "Have you asked around anywhere else?"

Ga'Rek shakes his head, a smug look on his face as he studies the two fae with him. Caelan and the quiet, disdainful one who can't seem to manage an ounce of friendliness towards us.

I scoot further away from the table, and nearly scream in surprise when a warm arm stretches around the back of my chair.

Fenn chitters an angry warning at Caelan, who, sure enough, has put his arm around my chair. I lurch forward, caught between either moving closer to his arm or closer to the table and absolutely not wanting to touch him.

The audacity .

I settle for an uncomfortable position in the middle of the chair and skewering the presumptuous fae with a glare.

"Hmm. Isley, that's our town grocer, she might be short-handed, you could check there. She sells fresh fruit and vegetables on the square." Piper's gabbing away like this situation is entirely normal, like Unseelie fae are regulars in Wild Oak Woods.

It's silly, but it does relax me a little.

At the very least, I'm not moping about the guild's rejection. Well, I wasn't until I remembered it, the cold words of the letter hitting me all over again, a punch in the gut.

My eyes well with tears, and I hunch my shoulders. Fenn pushes his cold, wet nose against my ankle, his fluffy tail wrapping around my other leg. Caelan's watching me still, his pale eyes narrowed.

Piper claps her hands loudly and I inhale with a shudder, grateful she's pulled attention off the fresh tears. I wipe my fingers along my eyes, hoping no one's seen my distress.

"Isley is for sure where you should start. If nothing else, she can probably use the help getting her goods from farm to market. I think she was talking about starting a small restaurant too…" She keeps talking, but I'm only half-listening, trying to stop the angry tears that threaten.

I glance around, pleased to see two of the three are fixed on whatever Piper's saying.

Caelan, however, narrows his eyes at me, the smile that played along his lips disappearing as I dab at the stupid tears.

Mortified, I decide to ignore him completely.

He probably only wants to take advantage of whatever he perceives this weakness to be; he's probably just looking for a way in.

That's the Unseelie way. Bargains and tricks and promises they do everything in their power to keep the upper hand in.

I sit up ramrod straight. That won't be happening to me, thank you very much.

No matter how pretty their packaging, how compelling their story, I will not be taken in. Nope.

Though, I have to admit, upon closer inspection, the three seem a bit worse for wear.

Their clothes are rumpled, not polished finery, and there's a hunted look in their eyes. Maybe they really are just looking for a new place to live. Caelan in particular seems to be doing his best imitation of tired innocence, and the orc, though completely overwhelmingly huge, seems genuine enough.

"What about the apothecary?" I force myself to ask, unwilling to utter Willow's name. Last thing I need is to give these fae another name. Goddess only knows what they'd do with it.

My skin prickles at the knowledge they have mine.

"She could use some help finding some of the more rare herbs and?—"

"Perfect," Caelan says quickly. "Perfect. The—" He clears his throat, pausing. "Kieran is excellent at finding things like that. It's in his nature." He says this as an aside to me, a conspiratorial slant to his smile.

I take another bite of the honey-sweet bread, staring him down as I chew meaningfully. See? I want to tell him. Bread and salt. You can't hurt me.

I don't trust you.

Kieran, the winged fae, buzzes in slight outrage, his cheeks turning a brighter purple.

"Don't deny it, Kieran," Ga'Rek says, putting a particular emphasis on the name. "You have a singular way with plants. The apothecary would be a good fit."

Kieran scowls at Ga'Rek, who just huffs a laugh and slathers a piece of bread with Piper's homemade butter, spiked with more honey—a spell for pleasant thoughts, if I know her.

And I do.

"And what do you do, witchling?" Caelan leans further forward, and I taste the scent of magic clinging to him.

I cant my head at him, annoyed with his presumptive tone, as well as the stupid nickname. "It's been a long time since I was a witchling. You already have my name, anyway."

"Well," he says the word slowly, positively beaming at me. "I might have your name, but I have better manners than to use it without your permission."

I glance at Piper, and she cringes slightly, nodding. Right. No help there.

"You can call me Wren," I say delicately. "Do you plan on doing something with my name, Caelan of the Underhill?" There's as much brave challenge in that question as I can muster.

I am a fantastic jeweler, a fact I take heart in despite the guild's rejection, and a great enchantress of jewels and metals.

But there's not much in my witchy arsenal that would be effective against this man—a fact I'm all too aware of at the moment.

"Wren," he says slowly, dragging the syllable out in a way that makes my heart flutter strangely. "I think you'll find that all I want to do with your name is speak it with pleasure."

I choke on my bite of bread, the rest of the table very studiously ignoring whatever in the world Caelan's just said to me.

It certainly shouldn't set me on fire from head to toe.

It certainly shouldn't send me to the point of distraction.

"I don't need help right now," I manage to croak.

"No, I suppose your type of work is solitary," Caelan continues, his icy lavender gaze pinning me in place. I can hardly breathe from the weight of it. "But if you need help, you know where to find me."

"Actually, no, I don't know where to find you." I snort, laughing a bit out of nerves and at the absurdity of this entire situation. Underhill fae. In my friend's bakery. In our small town, which is supposed to be my safe bubble away from the troubles of the outside world, and decidedly safe from the Unseelie.

Fenn, picking up on my distress, lets out his absolute worst ear-shattering howl.

There's nothing quite like a fox yowl to break the mood. I let myself smile, and I mean it, because I have no doubt my vocal familiar will stop whatever this fae's fixation on me is.

Caelan, however, simply leans closer, his nostrils flaring.

"You smell of the earth. Dark places. Precious metals. Magic." He tilts his head, that glossy, soft-looking black hair slipping from the knot at his neck. "I would like to help you, if you let me." His eyes meet mine, arresting and otherworldly beautiful.

"I, I—" I don't want to tell him no right now. Not with how he's looking at me, like I hung the moon itself, like finding dark places deep in the earth with him would be the best possible idea. "I don't need help at the moment."

"Then why are you so sad, pretty witch?" he murmurs the question so softly that I wonder if I've heard him correctly.

"The apothecary and Long Leaf Brews." She nods to herself "Those are your best bets. Ga'Rek, there's an inn at the end of Firefly Lane. You can find a set of rooms there while these two sort out their work. If you want to work with me, then I expect you here an hour before dawn," Piper, goddess bless her, interrupts, and I force my attention to her concerned face and concentrate on breathing.

Dark places with Caelan, as delicious as it sounds, would be very bad. I've never been good at relationships or men, and I would be more than out of my depth with the gorgeous fae.

Besides, I have my hands very full with work. My mouth twists to the side. At least, I have my hands full with trying to figure out how to build my business without the help of the guild.

Or the help of the coven that cast me out.

"You have my thanks and my sword," Ga'Rek tells her, interrupting my bleak thoughts.

Caelan appears distracted by Piper, too, but I can still feel his attention on me, a warm sort of awareness of him that sets me on edge.

Not that I'm ever not on edge.

"I have to go," I manage, tripping over the words. Fenn yips in agreement, trotting over to the door, tail held high.

"You know where to find me, if you change your mind," Caelan says, a knowing look creasing the corners of his eyes. "About help. Or anything else."

I make a non-committal noise, saved from replying by a pair of rowdy minotaurs breezing through the door. If I'd been asked who the largest men were in Wild Oak Woods this morning, the minotaur builder brothers would have taken the prize.

Next to Ga'Rek and the tall fae, though, they don't seem nearly as impressive.

I cough out a surprised laugh, practically running for the door. Their horns nearly graze the ceiling, and they stare in surprise at the fae and orc in our midst.

The chill afternoon air splashes across my hot cheeks as the door to The Pixie's Perch closes behind me. The birch broom on the side of the little shop rattles against the wall in the breeze, and I narrow my eyes at it.

Change has come to Wild Oak Woods, indeed.

Change, in the form of two Unseelie fae and their massive orc friend.