Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

PIPER

I am doing probably the worst job ever at being alluring.

By the front door, Ga'Rek waits for me, a half-smile on his face, and I fervently wish I'd charmed some cookies with a teensy seduction spell earlier.

I brush my hair from my face, where it seems resolutely determined to fall, and untie my apron, hanging it on the peg to wash later.

Which, of course, makes me go hot all over at the mere thought of laundry. Laundry! All thanks to Ga'Rek's admission about how he sleeps.

Naked.

In the nude.

Just him and the sheets.

I loose a shaky exhalation, attempting to school my thoughts back into a productive place.

"There's a more secretive part of the Night Market, did you know?" The question slips out before I can catch it. I cringe inwardly, well aware that he absolutely does not know, considering he hasn't been before.

"Secretive?" Ga'Rek repeats. He tilts his head, and the thick, glossy black bun on the back of his head moves with it.

I have been dying to touch his hair since the first week he worked here. He combs it out with his hands, tying it back with quick efficient movements I envy as much as I envy the luster of it.

"Piper?" he asks, and I startle, realizing I've been simply standing still, staring at him like a bump on a log.

"It's uh, it's not in the main square, but we can do that too," I say in a rush. Oh goddess, what if I've misread him entirely? What if wanting him has made me oblivious to signs that he's not into me the same way?

"I like the sound of being somewhere secret with you." There's a glint in his eye.

Hope and excitement fizz through my bloodstream, the heady combination a magic all their own.

"They have great food, this place," I tell him. "I'm a bit picky."

"I had no idea," he says, completely straight-faced, and we both stare at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Beaming, I make my way from behind the counter, brushing careful hands over my favorite red skirt.

"Sorry I'm not dressed very fancy," I tell him. "I feel like I should be dressed up to go out with you."

He blinks, his long black lashes fluttering like soft moth wings. "I just told you I have one set of clothes I wash nightly. You are a goddess, and I will have the envy of every male in the entirety of Wild Oak Woods with you on my arm."

Pleasure at the compliment turns my knees positively wobbly, and I fluff out the asymmetrical hem of the skirt.

"Well," I tell him archly. "This is my favorite skirt."

"You look beautiful in it," he says, and the way he lingers over the word beautiful sends a fresh shiver of enjoyment down my spine. "I think you'd look lovely out of it, too."

My eyebrows shoot up, and I let out a delicate cough. If he keeps this up, I'm not going to make it to dinner. I'm going to rip his one shirt off and see just what's going on under there.

"I mean to say," he clears his throat, his cheeks turning that adorable deep green. "You are perfect in everything."

"Mmmhmm." I nudge him playfully in the ribs, and he laughs. "I see how it is."

At least, I really hope that's how it is, because goodness gracious, I like him.

I want him to think I'm pretty. I want him to mean all the nice things he's saying.

"You're very handsome, you know," I tell him, then look sideways, embarrassed at my sudden admission. "I'm not as good at this as you are."

Oh, goddess, I want to dissolve into a blob on the floor. Why did I have to make it awkward?

When I glance back up, cowardly, he's staring at me with intense concentration. He leans down until our faces are a mere inch apart.

I have to remember to breathe.

"What, exactly, do you mean by this?"

"I, uh, I?—"

My bravery flees as quickly as it came.

"If you mean that you… want more than just a friendship with me, Piper, then you don't even have to try to be good at it. I'm not sure I could be wrapped any more around your finger than I already am." The words are low and fervent, and a hot feeling that has nothing to do with shame and everything to do with desire floods me.

He straightens up, leaving me to process that, and without warning, puts his hand against my back.

By. The. Moon .

His hand is huge, something I knew, obviously, because it matches the rest of him. I still wasn't prepared for the way it almost spans the width of my waist, his thumb curling around one side.

I want to ask him so badly what he means by me having him wrapped around my finger, but I also don't want to be off-putting or needy or too much or any of the other things men I've been involved with have told me.

The question flutters around the back of my head, though, from the moment I make sure Velvet is still snoozing in her spot by the door, and the whole time we walk down to the square.

Ga'Rek is quiet too, and when I glance up at him, trying to gauge his mood, he looks singularly… anxious, which is a look I haven't seen on his face since the first day he came to work for me.

I frown, confused. "Do you not like being around others? Is it too much?" I blurt.

The Night Market is hectic, it's true, the usually sleepy Wild Oak Woods downtown square turned into a bustling destination spot twice a week. Merchants from all over the region travel to sell their wares, setting up stalls with brightly colored canopies. Vendors who live here are present too, several mainstays being the enchanted ice vendors who produce melt-proof ice and fruit syrup-drenched desserts.

Those who flock to the market are a mix of Wild Oak Woods residents and those who live in the Elder Woods, and it's typically a feast for all the senses.

I could see why an Orc raised in the Underhill by the Unseelie fae might be overwhelmed.

Impulsively, I wrap my arm around his waist, or do my best approximation of it, because he's built like a primeval tree.

He huffs a laugh, his breath warming the top of my head.

"No, I'm not anxious around crowds. If I'm anxious, it's because I want to impress you."

My heart skips a beat.

"Quick-sewn bespoke clothes! Silks and cottons! Leather trousers!" a vendor yells. "A pretty dress for a pretty girl!" I glance sidelong at the cart, which is indeed laden with beautiful fabrics and sparkling notions: crystal buttons and brass fasteners, metallic trim and vibrant tassels.

Ga'Rek and I come to a halt as I stare.

I love clothes.

I don't get much opportunity to dress nicely. Most of my things are made with the utilitarian aspects of baking and work in mind. Thick linen skirts, like the red one I'm wearing now, cut in interesting patterns with serviceable blouses are my mainstay.

The midnight blue dress hanging from the top of the vendor's opened cart, however, is a tulle and velvet confection straight out of my dreams. Silver thread sparkles in the lantern light, wound into constellations amongst the airy tulle.

I step closer, transfixed by it.

"Elven made, that one," the vendor tells me. "Excellent taste."

"It's beautiful."

"It's a wrap-style too, wouldn't take much work at all to fit it to your specific measurements. We could have it worked up for you in an hour at most."

"Oh, thank you, that's really impressive…" I shake my head no, my hand falling away from where I've reached for the stunning garment. "I don't have anywhere to wear something like this, though. I'd buy it if I did," I tell the seamstress.

Spun midnight—that's what it looks like. Wearable night sky.

"Fabric like that doesn't come around very often," she says, and even though I know she's trying to sell me the dress, there's a kernel of truth in her words. "Elven-wrought fabric is rare."

"I need some things," Ga'Rek's voice booms out.

He pulls me back towards him, his touch gentle, and I go willingly, loving the way he doesn't seem to want to stop touching me, even though we're in public now.

Possessive, but in a way I really like. Affectionate, not overbearing.

And he's taken the shopkeeper's focus off me and the beautiful dress. I heave a little sigh, relieved, because the people pleaser in me wants to purchase the dress. To be fair, so does the part of me that wishes I had the kind of life that dress would require… but I very much do not.

Another woman approaches as Ga'Rek rattles off what he needs to the family of tailors, and she stares up at the dress with the same wishfulness I feel so deep inside.

"I'm going to go wander around," I tell Ga'Rek, because the thought of someone else buying that gorgeous garment makes me feel slightly sad.

He smiles down at me, and before I can process what's happening, he drops a casual kiss on the top of my head. His tusks bump against my scalp, and I grin up at him, flustered and thrilled at the public display of affection.

"I'll be at the stationery vendor," I tell him, slightly breathless.

"I'll find you," he says, his eyes positively devouring. It's the same look he gets before he tries one of my new recipes, and I have to say, it is not so bad to be looked at like that.

Not at all.

Whew. I try not to fan my face, and when I glance back over my shoulder at him, he's watching me walk away.

I might put a little extra swing in my step as I continue on my way to the vendor I need.

"There you are," Wren, one of my covenmates, appears in the crowd, waving a hand at me. Her long, wavy blonde hair is tied back in a pretty side braid, and her fox familiar darts between her legs as she steps towards me.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," she says.

"It's been three days," I say with a laugh.

"Exactly. Ages," she agrees.

Fenn the fox stands up on his hind legs, and he makes his weird little fox noises as I scratch behind his ears.

"Where's Velvet?" Wren asks.

"She was napping, so I left her behind the counter. Deer security," I say with a dramatic sigh.

Wren snorts a laugh.

"Where's Caelan?" I ask.

"He's at the inn, he said he'd meet me here in a while. There's a new witch in town, did you hear?"

"I did. I sent her to him." My nose wrinkles as I realize the implications of that. "Ga'Rek said he'd give up his room—I didn't cause Caelan to have to work more, did I?"

Caelan, an Unseelie fae, waltzed into our lives with Ga'Rek and another fae several weeks ago and promptly set his sights on Wren. The two of them hit it off immediately, and they've been adorable to watch, despite our initial misgivings about the Unseelie fae.

"No, of course not, don't worry about that. He's happy to have a willing victim for the new hospitality measures he's implementing," Wren tells me in a conspiratorial voice.

"Wha—what?" Anxiety makes my stomach churn. "I thought he was getting ready for the autumn festival visitors. What do you mean, victim? He's not going to be up to any Unseelie tricks, right?' The words burst out of me, my good mood gone in a second. "He promised me he was going to help."

Wren glances down at me, alarmed. "That was a joke. He's excited to have an actual guest stay so he can dry run things like laundry service and the menu and get feedback from someone besides his oldest friends."

"Oh," I say, my shoulders slumping in relief and sudden exhaustion. "Okay."

"Piper, you still haven't told me what you need me to do for the festival," Wren says in a chiding voice.

"You've been so busy with work, and I know how stressed you were about getting the store solvent." Wren owns the store next door to mine, a jewelry store full of bespoke and custom-enchanted pieces. She's incredibly talented and finally seems to be overcoming a streak of very bad luck.

"Piper, you can't just pretend like it's all fine. We know you need help. We want to help with this."

"What I need right now," I say, a bit icily, "is some parchment and ink."

I brush past her, making a beeline for the stall stuffed full of paper and parchment and quills and ink. The merchant who runs it has a shop in town too, but I hardly ever have time to run over there during the hours we're both open.

Wren jostles my elbow as I reach for a deep emerald pot of ink, and I sigh, immediately regretting my defensive words.

"I'm sorry," I tell her, my fingers clamped around the ink pot.

"Don't be. Just tell us what to do."

"Caelan is already doing so much with the inn?—"

She waves a hand at me. "Not me and him, us, the coven, us. We all want this festival to be incredible. We want to help, but we don't know what you need help with, or what you've already planned, or if you have a plan at all. We are happy to step in however you need." She stares at me, crossing her arms over her chest. "And if you need us to simply step in and take over, we can do that too. Don't even try to ‘I'm fine' your way out of this."

My mouth opens, then closes, and opens again.

"That's a winning impression of a fish if I ever saw one," a smooth male voice drawls, and sure enough, Caelan appears behind Wren, wrapping his arms tight around her and planting a kiss on her neck. "Have you convinced her to finally accept help?" he asks her.

Wren, the traitor, just raises her eyebrows at me.

I throw my hands up in surrender, almost managing to toss the ink pot in the air, too. "Fine. Yes. I need help."

"That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Caelan asks me.

I glare at him.

Wren just laughs, patting her wily Fae on his purple cheek. "Be nice," she tells him.

"That's so boring, though."

"Are you looking for trouble, friend?" Ga'Rek's voice is a rumble behind me, and before I can react, he's also wrapping me in a backwards hug, his hand on my stomach sending butterflies reeling through me.

Oh, I could get used to this.

"Well, well, well!" Caelan says, a wicked grin on his handsome face.

Not nearly as handsome as Ga'Rek—too sharply beautiful, like broken glass.

Where Ga'Rek is all pleasant angles and rugged features, Caelan looks like he'll cut you from the inside out.

But Wren is happy with him, glowing, in fact, so I've pushed aside my own misgivings about the trickster fae for her.

He's not terrible either… not really. Just mischievous to a fault.

They're both staring at Ga'Rek and me with matching bewildered expressions, but Wren surprises me by recovering first. "Well. I suppose that settles the question of where he's sleeping tonight," she says to Caelan.

I blush.

Ga'Rek takes a step back, though, and my heart sinks.

"Piper has generously offered her spare room to me."

"That is exceedingly boring," Caelan tells him.

Wren's cheeks suck in like she's biting them, and from the way she won't look me in the eyes, I can tell she's trying not to laugh at her idiot of a fae lover.

"Ga'Rek is my friend," I say, my voice too thin and high and reedy to pass off as anything but as suddenly anxious as I am.

"And he is my friend too, little cookie witch," Caelan says, voice full of disdain. "It's clear that he's interested in cream filling of another sort, so you better hope your little éclair is sturdy enough to take it."

"Caelan," Wren whispers, scandalized.

"Enough," Ga'Rek's voice cracks like a whip, attracting the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

The poor shopkeeper who's been standing by, wringing her hands as our group monopolized the space, looks about ready to burst into tears.

"I'll take two of the green ink pots, a navy, a set of cold-pressed parchment, and three of the pheasant quills, please," I tell her, now dead set on ignoring Caelan completely.

She stammers a reply and begins packaging everything up. "Could I interest you in the seeded floral papers? They're new?—"

"Yes," I tell her emphatically, also ignoring the way Ga'Rek is downright glowering at Caelan. "I would love a set of those."

"And we have a new pearlescent pink ink, it's charmed to allure all your admirers…"

"YES," I bark at the woman, "I WILL TAKE THE SEX INK."

The crowd goes a bit silent, conversation dropping before picking back up.

My ears are red now.

I can feel them.

"Well, I'll, uh, you know what? I'll swing by tomorrow to check on you. And we'll have a coven meeting tomorrow night. The coven will delegate any tasks you have left for the autumn festival." Wren's eyes are wide, her lips pulled away from her teeth in a cringe.

My molars grind so loudly I wouldn't be surprised if everyone could hear them.

"I will be there too," Ga'Rek rumbles in a no-nonsense voice. "Piper needs help and we will make sure she gets it."

"What an exceptional friend," Caelan says in an airy voice. "Certainly extremely normal for the Dark Queen's former assassin orc to volunteer to put on a festival. He is very qualified, you should know."

The shopkeep shoves a parcel into my hands, and I stare up at Caelan, who's grinning like the fiend he is.

"He's good at everything he does," I tell Caelan, forcing myself to be agreeable.

Wren sighs. "Don't encourage him?—"

"Yes, good at rearranging people's guts," Caelan continues. "He is wonderful with bodies."

"Fuck off, Caelan," Ga'Rek tells him.

I blink, my mouth dropping at the unexpected expletive as much as the brutal shift in his tone.

Caelan simply laughs though.

Wren glances between his cackling face and mine, and shakes her head. "See you tomorrow, Piper."

Ga'Rek doesn't bother with niceties.

He doesn't even bother with my hand, or my waist.

Nope.

He picks me straight up, like I'm a parcel all on my own, and walks me from the awkward situation practically tucked under his shoulder.

I can't say I'm mad about it, either.