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“You’ll be glad later,” I tell them, shaking a leaf of lettuce at them.

Later, I sit on the roof and watch the males chase prospective partners, bobbing to show off their puffed up iridescent collars and fanning their tails out.

My lips twitch.

Is that what my dreams were trying to tell me?

Between my legs aches sweetly with memory, and I bury my face in my arms. It wasn’t just how itfelt, though. It was the knowledge that the person who knelt between my legs was Ezra.

The sound of gravel crunching jolts me out of my daydream. I scramble to my feet. It’s barely afternoon, but that’s unmistakably Ezra’s truck. And here I am, dressed in my pajamas and covered in bird dust.

In a panic, I race down the stairs and throw myself into the shower. I don’t hear the door open, but when I leave the shower he’s lounging on my bed.

Inexplicably, I tense.

Ezra looks up and his eyes widen. “You—clothes,” he chokes.

Oh. Right.Nudity doesn’t bother me, but it didn’t escape my notice that he leaves his clothes on when we get into bed. I gathered humans are just more comfortable covered up, especially the way Ezra’s eyes drifted past me whenever he saw me in costume.

It only now occurs to me it may be about something other than comfort.

Heat curls in my gut. I hurriedly pull a shirt and pants out of my closet at random and tug them on. I’m distantly horrified by this sudden attack of carelessness, but the rest of me clamors for Ezra’s attention. His eyes are averted when I turn.

“You’re early.” My heart beats strangely fast.

“I thought we could get dinner,” he says. “Downstairs. It’s nothing special, but, you know. We kinda skipped a few steps, so a date is the least I could do.”

“Date?” I frown.

He sits up. “Well, it doesn’t have to be a date.”

“No, I, I don’t know what that means.” I flush.

“It’s just another name for spending time together. Getting to know each other.” A grin flickers over his face.

“Like friends do.”

He hesitates. “Exactly. Like friends.”

Oddly — selfishly — part of me doesn’t want to go downstairs to face the prying eyes and curious stares that’ll inevitably come.A fertile fairy is cause for celebration. It’s been so long since I had something to celebrate, I’m almost embarrassed about it. Everyone at The Sanctum knows so much about me, my past, even my future, that I want to keep this piece to myself for a little while longer — a secret between me and Ezra.

Yet I also get a thrill out of the idea of someone seeing us andknowing.

“C’mon, I booked us a table on the back patio.” He winks, holding out a hand.

I smile, unable to help myself. “Alright.”

The staff patio is just under my window, overlooking a well-tended greenway. The air smells of pollen and new leaves. It’s still daylight, even if the shadows are already a little long for my comfort. This spot is part of The Sanctum and therefore under Syril’s protection.

Ezra pulls the rickety wooden chair out and gestures for me to sit. “Drinks and dinner are on me.” He gives me a crooked grin. “Okay, they’re on the house. But I’ll be your waiter.”

He disappears inside and returns with plates occupied by tiny portions of food, setting them down with a flourish.

“Larch is testing recipes for his side business,” Ezra explains. “I volunteered to taste and review. Actually, I volunteered you as well. We have to give him a full report.” He pulls out a pad of paper and a pen. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Larch’s cooking is transcendent, as always. The breeze brings cool air from the river to ruffle my hair, and Ezra’s eyes sparkle hypnotically in the patio lights. His easy smile calms my heartbeat.

“Flavors,” he prompts after every dish.