2. Irving

2

IRVING

" H ow goes it, Irving?"

"Well enough, Cyrus. And you?"

My orc colleague smiled. "I can't complain. I did bump my head on the door frame coming into work, but I'm rather used to that by now. And it doesn't hurt that I'm hard-headed enough to barely feel it."

I smiled politely. "I can imagine."

"Do you have any plans for lunch today?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

"Come with me, then. I met a very nice gentleman who just started working here at the beginning of the semester and I think you would enjoy his company as much as I do, if not more." Cyrus gave me a knowing smile.

"You know I'm not interested in that, my friend. After Lachlan, I would be happy never to date again." I unlocked the door to my office, hoping to slip inside and shut it behind me before Cyrus could respond.

Cyrus was a chatty fellow, the polar opposite of me, and his conversations tended to drag on far longer than I wished.

"You have to move on eventually," he called back before I could fully shut the door. "There are a number of good men out there who would happily love you for who you are if only you would give them a chance."

"I doubt it. I'll see you at lunch, Cyrus."

With the door safely shut behind me, I sighed and leaned against it, grateful to be alone in the silence of my office.

Until, that was, I saw the pile of mail awaiting me in my inbox.

"God almighty," I murmured, collapsing into my desk chair. "Does everyone in my life want me to have a nervous breakdown?"

I began the arduous process of opening each piece of mail, inspecting it for its importance, and sorting it into one of the three neat piles in front of me. The last piece in the tray was from the library, and for a moment, I doubted it was for me.

"They sent it to this room instead of Cyrus', didn't they?" I shook my head, turning it over to read the address. "No, that's my name and my office number. How strange."

I tore into it with a letter opener, slicing the top before setting the sharp little tool back on the desk. I unfolded the letter, adjusted my glasses, and read it carefully, eyes narrowing as I realized exactly what I'd gotten myself into.

Applying to the library's matchmaking service had begun as a dare from some of my colleagues, Cyrus included. I'd just come out of a tumultuous relationship with a man who had, at one point, been my fiancé, and I was feeling bolder than usual.

That boldness quickly dissolved once I sat face-to-face with the idea of a soulmate, but the Librarian assured me that I was unlikely to get any matches for some time. That had been true, but now my time had come, and a few months were nowhere near long enough for me to come to terms with my foolishness. I'd hoped for years, if not longer.

"Ah, well," I murmured, "it's too late to turn back now. I suppose I should contact this so-called perfect match." I shook my head. "How perfect can he possibly be if he got matched with me of all people?"

The contact information was included in the library's letter, and based solely on the name, I had a sneaking suspicion that I'd been matched with a fae. A fae . There were worse monsters out there, to be sure – Luke Hammond got paired with a centuries-old vampire and our very own town priest ended up dating an incubus, of all creatures. Faefolk had nothing on vampires or incubi, but they were flighty flirty fellows at best, and at worst they were my greatest nightmare.

Still, I needed to give this particular fae a chance. The picture I painted of his kind could be far from reality. All monsters were different, much like humans, and stereotypes could be just as harmful to them as they were to us.

Yes, I needed to reach out to this fae, go on a date with him, and see where we went from there. How bad could a quick little date at the library possibly be? I wrote a short text to the phone number I'd been provided and waited patiently for a response. I got one almost instantly and with that text, I confirmed my date at 7:00 tonight.

I had underestimated my tolerance for a free spirit, and it was never clearer than when the fae I'd matched with walked into the library nearly 10 minutes after he promised he would arrive.

"You're late," I told him before he'd even had a chance to sit down and introduce himself.

"Yes, well, I got distracted by some flowers outside," the fae said, producing a bouquet he'd been hiding behind his back. "This is for you. There were a few other flowers that would have looked lovely included in this arrangement, but I had to leave them as they're not meant to be picked."

I forced a frustrated sigh back down into my chest. "Uh, thank you – Sylvan, yes?"

Sylvan bowed, still holding the bouquet. "That's correct. And you're Irving Scott, I take it?"

"I am." I checked my watch, tapping my foot impatiently on the ground. "Now, shall we begin our date since we've already lost so much valuable time?"

Sylvan smiled. "Certainly. Oh, and, I don't know if I mentioned it, but these are for you."

He pushed the flowers into my hands, forcing me to take them from him lest I appear rude. I had to give it to the fae, he took things in stride much better than I did. That wasn't always a strength, though, and right now he needed to prove himself to me if he had any expectations of a long and happy relationship.

He wasn't particularly bad-looking either, if unmistakably fae: pointed ears peeked out behind hair that fell in copper waves around his face and down his shoulders, practically glowing in the soft light in the back of the library. He had a strong nose, gentle gray eyes, and freckles dotted across his pale, almost translucent skin.

"Tell me about yourself," he said, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "I hear that you're a professor at the local university?"

"Yes, I am." I cleared my throat, discreetly dropping the bouquet by my feet and placing my hands neatly in my lap.

Sylvan didn't take the hint, instead leaning forward even farther, his entire upper half draped over the surface. "I loved college, but unfortunately my grades purported otherwise." He shot a toothy grin at me.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," I replied dryly. "What did you study?"

"Art."

"Art?"

"Painting, mostly, but art history as well. I did all right in applied art studies, except for when I needed to strictly follow the rules, but the more structured classes with quizzes and such were a nightmare. What do you teach?"

"English literature."

Sylvan raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. "That's quite an…interesting field to dedicate your career to."

"Is it?"

"I think so. I mean, I like reading, but studying it on a college level? It seems a little much, don't you think?"

"Do you really believe that I, a professor of English lit, would agree that the study of it is unnecessary?"

"No, I suppose not."

He pulled back from me, finally moving his elbows off the table. There was a comfortable amount of space between us, but the look he gave me was far from comfortable. I took that as my cue to leave.

"Well, Sylvan, it was lovely to meet you, but I believe our time here is done. I'll see you to your car if you would like."

"Oh, I walked. I don't even own a car, truth be told. Thank you, though." Sylvan stood, his disappointment clear despite his attempt to hide it with a smile. "I suppose even my cousin has their off days." He chuckled.

"Your cousin?" My brow furrowed. "You don't mean to tell me that the Librarian is your cousin , do you?"

"Why, yes, I do. What makes you so surprised?"

"Your cousin is well-read, polite, and a much more, how shall I say, grounded fae. I should know – I had them in my very first class when they attended my university."