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“Because of the bear?” Jezel asked.

“No, Jezel, because of me. The bear is Mr. Perfect-for-me-now. I like sex and refuse to let my ex be the last experience of my life. I deserve to make my own mistakes about the men I’m attracted to, especially Farley. He’s the nicest man I’ve ever met.”

Whether or not Jezel heard me, I couldn’t tell. So I went on.

“Not getting any of that stuff won’t make me a slacker about the inn’s guests, though. I feel sorry for Peace and Robin. Their families are ruining their lives. How can they possibly fall in love with someone they’re never allowed to be alone with? Their families need to back the eff off.”

“Such love can happen,” Jezel said wistfully.

I couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t heard the longing in her tone. “Is that how it happened for you?”

“Yes. I had the misfortune to fall in love with a seaman.”

I raised a finger into the air. “Here’s a lesson on modern terms. We refer to men who take advantage as tools these days. It’s less gross than comparing them to body fluids.”

Jezel blinked at me. “What... no!” she exclaimed. “I meant that I fell in love with a sailor who made his living on the sea. He and his mates passed by the inn on their way back to the coast. I put them all up for a night.”

I looked her over. She’d divested her ghostly form of the same Goddess-awful outfit she forced me to wear and wore a straight, well-fitted black dress. It wasn’t interesting, but she looked good in it. “Well, I can sort of see that happening for you. You’re a beautiful woman, despite your antiquated taste in clothes. I’m sure all those sailors wanted to bed you. How many did you grant that privilege?”

“Innkeeper Selene...” Jezel hissed.

Her outrage was so great that I laughed and laughed. If hell were real, I would go there for teasing her about this. Rumor had it The Baba Yaga could toss people through the veil into the land of demons. I’d never seen her do it, but I knew Carol was capable of far more than most people realized. It was why the Council of Witches feared her.

Initially, three witches were eligible for the role of witch protectress. One of them was Farley’s skeezy birth mother. The second was Hildy, the woman who truly raised Farley and his brothers, and the one he considered his actual mother.

Once, after a particularly grueling fight with some ogres, Carol told me that Goddess Morgana transferred The Baba Yaga powers from Farley’s evil birth mother to her. Carol said the only reason that even happened was that Hildy first made Carol take her share of The Baba Yaga mojo so she could subdue. There was an entire history about the current witch protectress that the Council of Witches wouldn’t let anyone discuss. Carol said it was because it did not shine a favorable light on them politically.

The truths Carol shared with me gave a whole new meaning to the concept of the power of three in the witch tradition. To this day, Carol remained a definite triple-threat witch protectress and a magical badass. I might not always like her, but I respected her. Whatever quirkiness had made me the target of her unique torture could not erase the decade I’d served her whenever she’d called on me to do so.

When I stopped thinking about Carol being The Most Bad Ass Baba Yaga, I noticed Jezel glaring at me for still laughing. “Sorry, Jezel. I was only joking about you taking them all on,” I said, wiping tears of amusement from my eyes. “It’s just hard to imagine you falling for some random man passing through the inn. Prince Robin is sexy times ten, but he ran away the moment Farley growled at him. The curse might provoke my lust, but I needed a lot more to be truly interested in someone.”

Jezel grunted in irritation. “The man I fell in love with was a British Captain—part warlock, part demon, and very powerful. I had never experienced such power in anyone outside myself. He shared my bed for the two weeks he was a guest. Then he left me, never to return as he had promised to do. I waited for a very long time. One day I scryed for him. In my vision, he was an old man, much older than me. He sat in a rocker surrounded by small children. I realized then that he'd forgotten all about me. I had been nothing more than a momentary diversion for him.”

“Ouch... that must have hurt. That stuff happens when one person cares more than the other does. I don’t seem to expect much from men. It keeps my heart safe, I think.”

Jezel swiped a hand through the air. “Only my ego was hurt by what I learned. I did not truly love him, and thankfully, he did not get me with child. The problem was that I badly handled being abandoned. Closing off my heart followed me to my grave and is a lingering character flaw that I’ve come to regret not healing. For that reason alone, I find myself in awe of your scathing arguments to allow you to be a trollop as often as you please.”

I nearly laughed again, but feared she’d get huffy and leave. She might be physically ethereal, but her feelings were totally solid. “Trollop must be the archaic name for a liberated woman. If I had been alive when you were, I likely would have been a true trollop, but so what?”

Jezel lifted an eyebrow. “As a true trollop, you would have turned the inn into a brothel for magicals.”

The edges of my mouth quirked. “That’s harsh, Jezel, even for you.”

Jezel finally looked at me. “Yes, you’re right. I seem to be picking up your bad habits.”

“If so, that’s definitely going to make things livelier around here,” I said with a chuckle.

The ghost looked at me. “So what are you planning to do about the fairy queen’s machinations?”

“You mean her spy? I’m already calling her Gertruda the Barracuda. What more do you think I should do?”

“You’re a witch, Selene. Afflict her to restrict her.”

I tilted my head. “Are you actually suggesting I mistreat a guest?”

“You know you were already thinking about it—I’m merely giving you permission. And she is not a guest. One rule of the inn is that a guest must state who they are and what they are with all the clarity they possess. A guest is lying to you, and therefore lying to the inn. If we are right about her deceit, the inn will support you in your efforts to extract the truth. Its ability to do that exceeds both human study and witch divination. I suggest starting small. For instance, the well-being of fairies is severely affected by iron.”

I tapped the wand against my chin. “Right. So I could serve her tea in a ceramic-coated cast-iron teapot. Or I could switch out her side table. Or perhaps I could find an antique lamp made of iron. I’d change the bed, but that would be too obvious. Everything we do needs to be subtle. We don’t want her figuring it out too soon.”