CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lukendevener
Skye has me set us down behind the library instead of on the town green. “I know the protection spell is in place, but people are primed to look for us right now. Appearing out of nowhere is weird, and we need to be as not-weird as possible. It’s the only way to calm the gossip.”
We cut through the building, and the brownie steps out of thin air to sketch a small bow. “Head Librarian Summers.”
“Hi, Bumbleboots. Everything going okay?”
“A man called Harold complained that the fishing magazines are digital instead of print. I didn’t know what to tell him.”
“Oh, that’s normal. He’s been complaining about it for years. Tell him the magazines went digital five years ago, so it’s impossible for us to get print editions.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll have to tell him the same thing next week as well.” Skye gives a small head shake and huffs in amusement. “At this stage, I should make a poster, and then we could point at it each time instead of needing to tell him over and over again.”
Bumbleboots perks up. “I will make one immediately.”
“Oh, I didn’t actually mean it. It was a jo—”
But he’s already gone.
“Welp, there’s a problem for future-Skye,” she mutters, then heads for the front door. “Let’s deal with the one for today.”
We step outside, the town green and downtown directly in front of us.
Morning sunshine makes the little shops gleam with brilliant color.
The plants inside the greenhouse look more colorful than they should, aided by Severin’s plant magic.
Bright red birds flit from tree to tree, chirping and ready for spring.
Someone on one of the sidewalks lets out a yell. Within seconds, Skye’s phone chimes. She pulls it from her coat pocket, huffs in amusement, and holds it up for me.
“She’s downtown, and she’s with him!” I read aloud. “Why are there weird little faces flanking the word ‘him?’”
“Those are scream emojis,” Skye says. “They’re for… emphasis.”
“Why are they sending you messages about yourself?”
“It’s a general broadcast to one of the big group chats instead of a text sent specifically to me,” she says. “But it’s good. It means we can keep track of the rumor mill.”
My tail lashes. From her tone, the scream emojis aren’t a good thing. “Can we get something from Cake My Day and take it back to the castle?”
“Nope, that’s not going to cut it.” Her rosebud mouth purses, pouting her pink lips.
I want to lick them, see if she’s as sweet as I remember.
“We’re going to eat breakfast at Slice of Life, in full sight of everyone.
And we’re going to make sure we look really, really normal doing it. ” She eyes me dubiously.
“I can do normal.” I straighten. “I’ll have you know I have impeccable manners. I drilled in the etiquette of eating at the high king’s table.” I might not have used those skills for over three hundred years, but it’s not as if I forgot. I do not forget information.
To prove my point, I cock my elbow and tuck her hand into the crook. Shortening my strides, I escort her to the door of the restaurant and open it for her with a flourish. “After you, my lady.”
“Act normal,” she whisper-hisses as she walks past. “Normal doesn’t mean sounding like you stepped out of Bridgerton!”
My teeth grind, and I grit out, “I don’t know what that means.”
“Drop the ‘my lady’ thing. Call me Skye.” She turns to face the approaching head pixie, a grin blooming across her face as she raises her voice. “Blue! I believe we have the table in front of the window reserved?”
“Of course!” the pixie squeaks, leading us across the restaurant.
If I thought there were a great deal of decorations last time, it’s nothing compared to now. Red and pink hearts cover every surface, and so many hang from the ceiling it’s as if we sit under a willow with a new leaf shape. There are also several more posters about the town’s Valentine’s Day Dance.
Blue asks, “Will you want the bitter brew?”
“Yes, please,” Skye says. “All the coffee.” Then she orders us each a sweet pizza with an additional spicy meat pizza for me.
The pixie darts away, whistling instructions, and a flock of her brethren flies an insulated carafe to our table.
Skye fills our mugs and takes an appreciative sip.
I drink my coffee black, enjoying the bitter earthiness and the way the caffeine makes my heart pound more quickly.
Or perhaps that’s from watching Skye wrap her lips over the rim of her mug.
I remember all the hints the other men drop about humans and their adventurous sexualities.
Similarly to how I pleasured her with my mouth, would she do the same to me?
The thought is electric, and my internal fire roars higher.
My cocks swell, and I shift in my chair, trying to ease some of the pressure.
“Be chill.” Skye’s eyes flick toward the window. “We’re being watched.”
I turn my head.
Half the town stands on the sidewalk outside Slice of Life. Most of them look away as soon as they see me staring, but Mrs. Greely stands right in front, propped up by her cane. She lifts one hand, points two fingers at her eyes, and then points them at me.
“I told you to be chill!” Skye’s toe nudges my shin.
I turn back to her. “Isn’t it considered normal to look out the window?”
“Usually, yeah, but this breakfast is about as far from normal as you can get. The only reason we’re not inundated with rubberneckers at the other tables is because I called in backup.”
I noted there were other people in the restaurant when we came in, of course, but none registered as a threat.
Looking again, I see that several of the witches occupy all of the tables next to ours, keeping anyone else from getting close.
Behind them, the people filling the other tables hold their phones in our direction, necks craning.
The pixies return with our food, a group of four flying each individual plate to us. They set everything down and cry, “Pizza!” in unison, and the rest of the restaurant echoes them.
“I got us each the Valentine’s special, which is a waffle topped with strawberries and chocolate syrup.” Skye points to the final plate with her fork. “That’s a sausage patty. They’re usually not that big, but I didn’t think you’d mind the extra meat.”
I use my fork and knife to slice off a section of the sausage and take a bite. Sage and thyme add an interesting herbiness to the rich, salty meat. “Thank you.”
She grins and cuts into her waffle, making sure to get berries and chocolate syrup in every bite.
I try mine, the bright acidic fruit offset nicely by the earthy chocolate and the bready waffle. I’m about to tell her how much I like her choice when the head of a cane slams down on our table.
My wings lift and half spread, ready for flight, and Skye jumps, pressing a hand to her heart. “Mrs. Greely. You startled us.”
The elderly woman spears me with her eyes. “I meant to.” She shuffles past us to an occupied table, elbowing away a couple just starting to rise. The pixies haven’t even removed the dirty dishes yet. She settles into the chair facing our table and stares.
As we continue to eat, I ignore the older woman’s scrutiny—I’m well used to being treated with wariness.
The sweet Skye, on the other hand, suffers under Mrs. Greely’s withering gaze. The little witch shifts in her seat, berries falling from her fork with every bite. After a good five minutes of this, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I do,” she sounds morose, her expression miserable. “I kept telling you to be chill, and here I am, being about as far from chill as possible.”
I reach over and take her hand. “Do not apologize for an inability to deceive. I find your open nature very refreshing.”
A smile breaks across her face. “You do?”
“It can be hard to live as long as I have. You get somewhat… jaded. I find your candor and love for life invigorating.”
Her rosebud mouth falls open. “That’s… that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I grunt. My words weren’t much. She deserves sweeter.
Skye gives me one of her heart-stopping smiles, and I squeeze her fingers…
The window beside us lights up with a million miniature explosions.
I throw up a hand, blinking as a series of floating white spots obscure my gaze. My tail lashes in irritation. “What was that?”
“Camera flashes.” Her phone chimes, and she picks it up, her finger swiping at the screen repeatedly. She turns pinker the longer she reads, then shares a look with the witches at the nearby tables.
“What is it?”
“Nothing!” she chirps, her voice too high.
A growl rumbles from me. She’s lying.
Mrs. Greely walks past, her cane thumping against the wood floor. She eyes me and gives one last, “Humph,” before leaving the restaurant.
The crowd outside disperses as well.
Skye sags backward in her seat. “We did it.”
“Operation ‘Everything’s Normal’ is a success,” Autumn says, grinning from the next table over.
“What about the… you know?” Hannah waggles her phone.
“It’s nothing,” Skye hurries to say. “Just people reacting to Valentine’s.”
“How can they not?” Kayla stands, tapping at one of the hanging hearts dangling in front of her face. “When it’s being shoved down our throats? These things are everywhere.”
“I kind of like them,” a short witch with tan skin and honey-brown hair says.
A tall witch with brown skin and dark curls wrapped in bright turquoise silk nods. “Me too.”
A wild pulse of magic blasts through the room, and several of the hearts break from their strings and start flapping around like a bunch of bright-red butterflies.
The pixies pour out of the kitchen, joining in on the fun, darting between the flying hearts as if they’re a moving obstacle course.
The witches all leap to their feet, their eyes tracking the heart-butterflies as they zip back and forth overhead.
“Who did that?” Skye asks. “Kayla, Violetta, Jasmine, it had to be one of you.”
The trio shrugs, sharing confused looks among themselves.
In the chaos, I pick up Skye’s phone, which is still open to the group chat.
I scroll upward past text after text to find a photo of the two of us.
We’re framed by the window. I’m leaning forward, my arm stretched across the table to hold her hand.
She’s smiling at me, her entire being radiating joy.
She looks beautiful, and I look like an ancient grumpy beast, tamed by her youth and sweetness and light.
Every single one of the texts below it declares we’re in love.
This is what made Skye so uncomfortable. This is what she didn’t want me to see. She smiled at me, yes. But she was simply being her usual kind self, and people are misinterpreting it. The little witch doesn’t want me to mistakenly think she cares for me.
The women run past, trying to catch the hearts, the pixies surrounding them with squealing shrieks of joy. It’s a veritable zoo in here, with Skye right in the middle of it all. This is what life with her in it is like. My entire world’s been turned upside down ever since she cast her spell.
I should be happy she hid the texts from me, that she doesn’t love me. I should look forward to the day this farce finishes so that I can go back to the peace and quiet of having my castle to myself.
So why is there this hollow ache in my chest at the thought?