Chapter 11 Faye
FAYE
On Sunday, Faye stood outside the Dragon’s Inn. It appeared to be an ordinary tavern, but what set it apart was the glass aviary at its centre, divided into various sections for different breeds and climates for the miniature beasts it gave sanctuary to.
Before reaching for the door handle, Faye wiped her clammy palms on her jeans.
It’s only Rosie and Lucy, no one is going to hurt me.
No one is going to bite me – unless Rosie is hangry, she told herself silently, trying to make a joke out of her anxiety.
A cold sweat crept up the back of her neck, and the slight pitter-pattering of her heart was in her ears, warning her of a danger that no longer existed.
She wanted to see her friends, but her body didn’t seem to care.
They are my friends; I’m not going into battle.
Please get a grip on yourself. She had got into the habit of talking her nervous system off a ledge.
The last thing she wanted was to have a panic attack in the middle of the tavern.
Taking a deep breath, she repeated, I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe, and forced herself to open the door.
Stepping inside, she was greeted by the hostess’s bright smile. “Table for one?”
“No, thank you. I think we have a reservation under Hawthorne?” Faye said, unsure if she was the first to arrive. Once inside, she relaxed. Another hurdle conquered, and she gave herself a mental pat on the back for not running away.
“Perfect, a table for three. Follow me.” The hostess walked her through the seating sections, which were dedicated to each rare dragonia breed within the aviary.
“You’ve come at the best time!” she said over her shoulder.
“We’ve had a new batch of hatchlings overnight, and your table gives you the perfect view. ”
“How exciting! I can’t wait to see them,” Faye exclaimed. “That must be why you’re so busy today.” While guests had lunch, they could watch the dragonia play and fly about in their enchanted aviary, which provided the perfect climate and space for each breed.
“Hatchlings always draw a crowd. Dragons have been extinct for over two thousand years. Still, thanks to our customers’ continued support, we keep them alive by ensuring their smaller descendants are safe and comfortable,” the hostess explained. Educating customers was clearly part of her job.
“It’s such a shame that we can’t let them fly free,” Faye said, wishing they didn’t have to spend their lives in a glass cage.
“It’s a pity, but since their scales and other parts can be used in potions and spells – replacing the more potent but scarce dragon parts – for their own protection, we must resort to aviaries.
However, don’t worry; each climate-controlled section is enchanted to give the dragonia all they need to thrive. ”
Their conversation was cut short when Luisa, another school friend, came up behind them in her black chef’s uniform.
“Faye! It’s so good to see you,” she beamed.
“Welcome home!” Faye had heard from Lucy that Luisa had returned from her travels to help her ageing parents run the tavern. She could see why they needed the extra help, seeing how much the place had expanded since her last visit.
“Thanks, it’s good to be back. Harriet and I were on the road for so long that I forgot what it’s like not to live out of a suitcase.
Harriet’s still finishing up her latest dig, and as much as I’m glad to be back, I’m missing the nomad life a little.
” Harriet worked on archaeological digs searching for rare artefacts and texts so they didn’t fall into the wrong hands.
Meanwhile, Luisa tagged along, looking for ingredients for her teas and recipes.
She was a potion master, and loved brewing teas with the oddest ingredients; she specialised in everything from healing teas to those that boosted vitality and confidence.
“I can only imagine! I’m meeting Lucy and Rosie for brunch. Are you going to join us? I’d love to hear more about your travels.”
“I wish I could, but the kitchen is stacked with orders. I had to come over and say hello,” Luisa said.
Faye could see how much the customers were enjoying their meals. Luisa was as talented with food as she was with potions and teas.
“Hey! Stop hogging our friend. You said you couldn’t join us, so you don’t have dibs on Faye,” Rosie said, walking over.
“I was going to bring her right over! And I’d love to join you, but with the hatchlings coming a week early, I can’t leave the kitchen.
I’ve given you the best table in the house, though,” Luisa promised as Rosie and Faye followed her to a corner table where Lucy was waiting.
“You get the first look at the new red-bearded dragonia hatchlings. We’ve two males and one female; the female has already started blowing smoke, which suggests she’ll be a firestarter once she reaches puberty.
We already have two mature females and another male they can bond with.
They can grow considerably larger if they have enough interaction with people and other creatures. ”
“So glad we could make it to see them. They’re so adorable – and a little frightening,” Lucy laughed, giving Faye a quick hug.
“Are you talking about Rosie or the hatchlings?” Faye teased.
Rosie rolled her eyes as she reclaimed her seat. “I take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” Lucy said, admiring a red-scaled miniature beast as it flapped its wings on the other side of the glass beside their booth.
Faye slid into the corner booth beside her before giving her food order to Luisa, who had to hurry back to the kitchen before they got too behind.
“How are you settling in? Did you finish your apartment?” Lucy asked.
It was hard to concentrate on the conversation, surrounded by the adorable flying creatures.
Still, Faye hesitated, contemplating whether to share the secret of her almost kiss with Peter, and how he had quietly made her bed while she slept.
His unconditional kindness struck her deeply, yet the thought of discussing it with her friends felt almost too vulnerable to voice.
“Perfectly, for the most part. Stoker’s seems busier than ever, but I suppose it’s because I’m working alone now with Mrs Stoker retiring.
I’m not complaining; staying busy helps me keep my head on straight.
I don’t have much time to think about the past,” Faye said, not wanting to delve into that topic. She didn’t want to lose her appetite.
“I’m sure it’ll start to feel normal soon. You can’t overcome ten years in two weeks,” Lucy reassured her as Rosie tucked into the bread basket.
“I wish I could,” Faye agreed, “but working on the new dessert menu and having complete control over my kitchen has been bliss. It’s not that Mrs Stoker was a dictator in the kitchen, but she preferred… classic recipes. I want to make the place my own.”
“I’m sure it’ll be a roaring success. Does this mean we get to taste samples?” Rosie asked.
Without missing a beat, Faye took a container out of her bag to reveal the cookies she had brought. Lucy and Rosie dived in immediately. It felt like they were back in school again, and she had cooked up some Frankenstein recipe for them to give her feedback on.
“Oh my gosh! The chunky peanut butter with the marshmallow drizzle is the perfect blend of sweet and salty,” Rosie said, taking another cookie from the box before finishing the first.
“These are out of this world! Are you sure you don’t put any magic in these?” Lucy groaned, taking another bite.
“I swear, not even a pinch,” Faye said, watching a lime green dragonia pace back and forth by the glass like the small creature could smell the peanut butter.
Rosie shoved the last cookie in her mouth, and Faye wished she had brought more.
“I’m thinking of creating a range of ice creams to complement the desserts. Stoker’s could be devoted solely to desserts, but have savoury elements. I’m not sure yet, I’m still experimenting.”
“You keep experimenting, and we’ll keep tasting,” Lucy said, wiping crumbs from her lips.
“I second that,” Rosie added.
“Don’t worry. You’ll both be my first tasters,” Faye said, offering her the box. “I would never come between a wolf and peanut butter.”
Rosie happily collected the crumbs from the container, letting nothing go to waste.
“I thought that was just for dogs,” Lucy teased.
“Don’t start,” Rosie snarled playfully. “Since we’re on the topic of your delicious desserts, I’ve got something to give you.” She reached into her bag.
“What’s this?” Faye asked, staring at the brochure she slid across the table.
“There’s a competition in Ravenstown Sanctuary to find the best pastry chef in all the sanctuaries across the country.
It’s a grand prize of fifty thousand euros.
Given how you recently bought Stoker’s, I figured you could use the money to redecorate the place as you like.
Make it your own, or get yourself your own cottage in town,” Rosie said, visibly trying to contain her excitement.
Faye flipped through the brochure, seeing the previous winners and their sweet creations, chocolate sculptures, and ornate cakes.
“We didn’t want to pressure you, but we wanted to tell you about it,” Lucy told her.
“I don’t know if I could compete with these chefs. Some have already won awards and trained in the best schools or restaurants. I’m self-trained; I probably wouldn’t even make it past the first round,” Faye said. “Maybe next year when I’ve had more time to train.”
“Please don’t be mad.” Rosie glanced at Lucy sheepishly. “We might have already entered you.”
“What? How could you do that without telling me?!”
“In our defence, we didn’t have time to discuss it with you first,” Rosie began, but she was cut off by the arrival of their food.
“I’m listening.” Faye decided to give them the benefit of the doubt as she picked at her burger.