No Hands, No Wand #3
“For a while, until I went to college. Then I cut it to fit in.”
“And your eyes?”
“What about them?” he asks.
“What color are they?”
“Gray.”
“And how tall are you?”
“About six feet.”
So he’s a little shorter than high fae, but still tall.
“What was your favorite feature?”
“What does that even mean?” he demands, getting frustrated now.
“The thing you liked best about yourself.”
“Do women actually catalog these things?”
I laugh. “Some of us do.”
He thinks about it, watching me drink my tea. Finally, he says, “My last name.”
“That’s not a physical feature.”
“No, but it’s the thing I like best about myself. I might be a half breed, but I’m still a Neilfellow.”
“Don’t call yourself that,” I say, frowning into my cup.
“A Neilfellow?”
“A half breed.”
“You’re such a summer,” he chuckles.
“What season are you?” I ask. “Do you know?”
“Mages don’t have seasons. Our magic smells the same, acts the same. It has something to do with our fae genetics blending with our human ones. There’s only one possible outcome.”
“Do you catch fae illnesses or human ones?”
“Both, but only rarely. We have a natural immunity to all thanks to our mixed heritage. I’m rarely sick.”
“Why do you have to use wands?”
“They’re a tool. We cannot summon our magic without them.”
“But it’s just a stick.”
“They’re enchanted sticks.”
My timer goes off again, and I pull the infuser from his cup. Then I take both mugs to the table. Rowan flies over to join me. A comfortable silence falls between us as we drink our tea.
“You know my history,” Rowan finally says. “But I know very little about you.”
“A person’s history can’t be told in one short conversation.”
“You still know more about me than I do you.”
I’m not sure why I’m reluctant to talk about myself—maybe because there’s so little to say. And that’s kind of sad.
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s your hair color?” he says wryly.
I roll my eyes, smiling.
“Let’s start with the basics. Do you have any siblings?”
“No, I’m an only child.”
“Are your parents both summers?”
“My father is. My mom is an autumn.”
“Did you leave a boyfriend behind?”
“I’ve never dated anyone seriously.”
“Never?”
“The nearby fae were primarily shifters, and you know how they are about dating outside their packs. I went on a few dates with a wolf, but that never went anywhere. Everyone I went to school with was human, and I couldn’t get close to any of them because they’d eventually notice my magic.”
“You didn’t know any other pixies?”
“I have a friend, Nadine. She and her sister lived nearby. And my family traveled a bit when I was young—we came here once. But as my mom got older, she became more of a homebody.”
Which is normal for pixies, and especially autumns. Wanderlust isn’t in our blood.
I continue, “By the time I was a teenager, we didn’t go anywhere anymore.”
“No wonder you’re enamored with Ash—you don’t know better.”
When I level Rowan with a stare, he chuckles and dips his beak into his tea. After he tilts his head back, working his jaw several times, he asks, “When did you visit Moss Hollow?”
“Once, when I was about ten. During the summer.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Sixteen years,” I say. “How did you become friends with Laverna?”
“I started coming here when I was young, often when I was angry with Ash. Then I worked for her while I was in high school.”
“You’re the high school kid you mentioned.”
“I am.”
“That’s why you know so much about tea.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think we met each other while I was visiting? Laverna introduced us to a lot of people.”
“Possibly. Though you’re four years younger, so I probably wouldn’t have paid much attention to you.”
“You’re really good for a girl’s self-esteem, thank you.”
“You’re a fickle woman. If you think I like you ‘too much,’ you panic. If I don’t notice you at all, you’re offended.”
I laugh to myself and then yawn, exhausted from the long day. Finished with my tea, I leave the table and put my cup in the sink. “I’m going to head to bed.”
“Goodnight, Kit.”
“I have to do more tea research tomorrow morning, and then maybe we can start looking for a dust pendant in the afternoon. Do you want to come to the shop with me again?”
“Of course.” When I start for my bedroom, he says, “Kit.”
I turn back, waiting.
“I’m glad Laverna chose you.”
“She didn’t have a lot of options,” I point out.
“She had options—she was close to nearly everyone in town. She could have left her estate to any of them, but instead, she picked you.”
“Why do you think she did that?” I ask, hoping he’ll have the answer.
“Probably because you share the same magic. Since you’re a summer, the tea shop will retain the joyful ambiance it’s always had. Even though our visiting human patrons don’t know why it feels a certain way, they enjoy it. The magic draws them in. Laverna didn’t want to take that from them.”
I ponder that, finally nodding.
“And I think you were the only one she trusted with me.”
“So, I inherited Laverna’s fortune thanks to you?”
“I believe so.”
I smile, turning toward the living room. “Then the least I can do is sacrifice a little magic for you.”