Page 4

4

Vincent

I continued reviewing the memory stone and other items in the folder until I was the last person left in the office.

My meeting with Patricia confused me.

This was the kind of story I wanted, and I wasn’t afraid of the work, but something felt off.

I rubbed my forehead as if to squeeze out the thoughts I couldn’t entirely organize.

She had been too ready for me with this particular assignment.

I didn’t like it.

The tip felt flimsy, and this fae’s reputation was on the line.

I didn’t care if he wasn’t of my court.

The Compass Points would not look kindly on anyone, especially an old fae, working against their new policies.

Where had the tip come from that Patricia wanted to dig into it?

Putting the folder into my bag, I left the building.

I couldn’t press her further because I wanted this.

No matter how unorthodox it seemed, I wanted the chance to write a feature, and this was what she’d given me.

Maybe this was how they all started.

Between Patricia handing me this uniquely old fae story and Daisy’s earlier comment, I wondered if everyone only saw me as old fae.

You should try to experience things outside of your fae bubble.

The words still irked me.

What was the tavern her husband liked?

Parkview?

I glanced behind me into the trees—the warm glow of the single building in the middle of the natural setting called to me.

I was sure I’d been there before.

I didn’t have a fae bubble, but I could prove her even more wrong by going to check it out now.

If it didn’t live up to my standards, that was that.

I could begin my investigation tomorrow.

Tonight, I would experience the city with the tourists—those who didn’t know my family name or my column.

I’d surround myself with a few strangers at Parkview Tavern.

My feet carried me across the street and into the park before I could change my mind.

As I pulled open the door, I hated to admit the energy inside was immediately contagious.

Patrons filled the wooden chairs and stools; their animated chatter was comforting as it bounced from the dark brown rafters.

I took the only seat as it opened at the bar.

It was hard to believe Daisy said this place wasn’t doing well.

The tavern was packed, and though I was still unsure that warranted a recommendation, this was precisely what I needed.

Abruptly, a woman with hair dark as night and silver strands the color of moonlight framing her face stormed behind the bar.

She tugged an apron from the hook and tied the strings around her waist tighter than seemed necessary.

Her gaze raked over those of us seated before her, and her eyes locked with mine when she spotted the empty place where my drink should be.

She leaned forward.

“What’ll it be?” Her voice was bright and welcoming, even with the anger she had recently displayed.

My brow arched in silent question.

“Do you want a drink?” she pressed at my silence.

She gave me another once over, her eyes lingering on my dark brown jacket.

Her gaze was penetrating, not at all the lost-among-the-crowd atmosphere I sought.

Something flared hot inside me at her perusal all the same.

My wind surged, a gale waiting to break free.

Relax .

I took a deep breath.

Her nostrils flared.

She was definitely judging me.

I needed an answer to her question.

“Sweet Solstice Sip.” Was ordering the drink I’d put on the map a tad indulgent?

Probably.

I shrugged.

I’d been so intent on stretching myself with my new assignment that I needed to remind myself I’d done alright so far.

“Sure.” She turned her back to me and reached for the ingredients.

My lip curved into a satisfied smile, noticing they were already at hand.

The new column was doing well already.

“Busy day?” an older man beside me asked, pulling my attention from the perplexing bartender.

I nodded noncommittally.

Enjoying being around people and actually chatting with a stranger were different.

I wasn’t prepared for the latter.

“Lots of people here today,” he said.

“You looking for someone special?”

My gaze tracked the bartender’s movements at his words.

I wasn’t sure why.

Dating was not my strong suit.

I knew I was good-looking—I was fae.

That was never my problem.

Too many women I’d been interested in only cared about the Andiveron family name, though.

Now, with my column taking off, most were only interested in getting a product or business recommended.

I tapped my fingers on the bar top.

There was no way I would tell a stranger any of this.

I gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“You visiting for Long Night?” he asked, unbothered by my silence.

He scratched his head in thought, giving me a look like he was trying to place me.

“No, just trying out a new tavern.”

Recognition flashed in his features, though I couldn’t imagine why.

He smiled and lifted his glass.

“Way better than those stodgy fae establishments, am I right?”

I pursed my lips, looking around.

Get out of your fae bubble.

Daisy’s words replayed in my mind.

This place had an energy, to be sure, but I wondered if that only had to do with the visitors for Long Night.

The tavern itself lacked charm.

It had no distinguishing features.

Dark wood lined the walls and the bar.

The chairs and tables were old and scratched.

Even the lighting seemed lacking, although the moonlight streaming through the windows helped.

This was probably a part of the park where tree cover didn’t block it.

“It could benefit from a little magic.” I let that confident smile I’d been taught from birth cross my face.

The phrase was an old fae one.

That’s why I used it for my column, but this man wouldn’t know that.

Get out of your fae bubble.

Daisy’s words echoed again.

Well, I was here, and I was unimpressed.

The man looked like he’d say more, but the bartender returned, drink in hand.

My gaze tracked the liquid sloshing in the glass, then slid to the bartender.

The fury she’d first displayed was back, and I had to say it made her fiercely beautiful.

I was too distracted appreciating the sharp lines of her anger that I didn’t even register as my Solstice Sip splashed onto my face.

I blinked, ignoring the alcohol dripping down my chin as the scent of moonflower filled my nose.

That was not part of the drink.

It only bloomed under the full moon and in the presence of Norden magic.

I scanned the counter behind the bar for the flower but found none.

The scent drew me forward like a moth to flame.

Then, the man next to me was on me with a napkin, dabbing my face.

Honey spirit and ale were all over my jacket.

My gaze flicked to the bartender.

The glass in her hand was empty, her brow pinched, and her gaze narrow.

Wait, was her anger for me?

Did she throw my drink at me?

She did not look apologetic.

A gust of my wind magic slipped its leash and swirled, further tousling my hair and immediately drying my face.

The bartender’s bright blue eyes widened, almost like she was laughing at me, and my cheeks flushed as I reined in my wind.

Another woman rushed toward me with a towel.

She glared between us, throwing the towel at me before turning to the bartender.

“Outside. Now.” She pointed toward the back.

I held the cloth uselessly in my hand.

I didn’t need it to dry off anymore; my magic had seen to that.

Instead, I found myself standing and following the bartender through the employee entrance.

The door dropped us at the back of the building, and she was already striding toward the moat surrounding the tavern, shucking her boots off as she went.

“Hang on a second,” I chased after her.

She didn’t slow.

I jogged to keep up, only halting when we reached the moat’s edge, and she hopped down into the water.

She bunched her skirt in her hand, holding the layered pieces above her knees to stop them from getting soaked.

Ignoring me, she stared at the moon, taking deep, defiant breaths.

I didn’t know what to say.

She still hadn’t acknowledged me.

“Excuse me,” I said, unsure how this would play out.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Had I heard that right?

Was that an apology?

She hadn’t turned to meet my gaze.

“I didn’t mean to—” She continued to stare at the moon like she was demanding an answer to some unspoken question.

“Well, I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t mean for it to.”

“You threw a drink at me,” I said flatly.

She turned to face me and shrugged like she wasn’t sure that was accurate.

I didn’t know why she’d deny it.

It had been clear she was angry.

I’d thought her displeasure was for whatever had brought her into the tavern in a huff, but the way her brow still pinched at me, I wondered if it was personal.

What had I done?

“Did I do something to offend you?”

She sighed.

“It wasn’t actually about you, but I supposed your words about this place struck a nerve.”

I felt like an ass, instantly deflating as I realized how pompous my comment had sounded.

“I didn’t mean to insult this place.” I’d let Daisy’s words get in my head, willing to say anything to prove them wrong.

Her gaze was perplexed like she was trying to read something written in another language.

“You’re old fae, aren’t you?”

I straightened.

“I’m not sure why that is relevant.”

She pushed back the sleeves of the crème sweater she wore.

The style was familiar but didn’t mix with the rest of her outfit.

I’d guess it was from the boutique where my sister worked—an establishment I’d recommended a few months ago.

It was the only recommendation I’d made that I regretted.

Seeing the top on the bartender, I regretted it further.

The sweater was all wrong on her.

It seemed too timid, too reserved for someone whose eyes still raged like a summer storm.

“Were you angry at someone who was old fae?” I crouched closer to the water against my better judgment.

She pursed her lips before letting out a heavy sigh.

“It doesn’t matter. I apologize for ruining your jacket.” She looked.

.

.

well, not peaceful but perfect, standing there in the water.

The bartender was a tempest at sea and I watched from the safety of shore.

With her chin still lifted high, she was crashing waves and swirling clouds at the cyclone’s center.

I couldn’t look away.

My wind was a gale force inside me, straining to get out.

I wanted to let it.

The water rippled around her, and I thought for a second I had.

The pattern on the water was too precise to be from her jump into it.

“Why are you standing in the moat?” I asked.

The smell of moonflower struck me again, and I realized what it was as the small waves circled her—her magic.

She must be Norden, water fae.

She laughed, and the sound was lyrical.

I was drawn forward, wanting to hear more.

“I find it calming, and I’ve had a bit of a day.”

“What caused your day?”

It was an impertinent question.

This female—this fae—was a stranger.

She didn’t seem to like me.

Maybe I’d earned some of it, but certainly not all of it.

Either way, there was no reason for her to answer.

Still, I wanted to know, and she didn’t seem the type to let propriety hold her back.

Her bright red lips, messily knotted hair, and even the high slits of her bright blue skirt were choices a little bold for most fae in Sandrin.

I held back a smile, deciding that was precisely why she’d chosen them.

She seemed so sure of her place in that moment.

My wind surged with longing, like a squall in my chest.

It must be nice.

I might be old fae, but I no longer knew where I fit in this city.

“My father.” Her gaze was downcast, and the word, the change in her demeanor, struck like an unexpected cut.

She was showing me too much.

“He’s who I’m angry with.” She held my gaze as if forcing me to hear her words.

Little did she know there was no chance I could look away.

Her mouth opened like she was about to say more, but then someone called from the backdoor, “Luna Pierce, are you done wallowing? Or do I have to run this place myself?”

She gave me a fleeting smile and stepped from the water.

“I’ve got to get back. I’m sorry again I spilled on you.”

I was still unsure why we were calling it a spill.

She’d thrown the drink at me.

Before I could say so, my wind surged toward her feet without invitation, sweeping around them and drying them off.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, mortified.

Apparently, it was a night of apologies.

My cheeks heated again as I stepped toward her, my hand reaching out to fix something that couldn’t be undone.

I could only hope my flush didn’t show in the dark.

It had been a long time since I’d lost control so blatantly.

“For an old fae, your wind is kind of alright.” Jamming her foot back into her boot, she glanced up at me.

Daring me to argue.

We were too close.

I’d invaded her space, but she hadn’t retreated.

She stood there, a smirk tugging at her lip due to my obvious discomfort.

Though it wasn’t all discomfort, was it?

She was breathtaking.

Our faces were so close I could see flecks of dark blue in her irises.

They looked like crashing waves.

I glared at her, unamused by her words but intensely distracted by our proximity, even as I fought to stop my lip from lifting into a matching smirk.

She broke the moment, winking, then running to the door and disappearing into the tavern.

My heart beat rapidly as I watched her go.

She was the sea retreating from the shore it bore down on, and I feared she took a piece of me with her when she left.

I shook my head free of the haze.

One thing finally stuck out.

Her name—Luna Pierce.

There was only one Pierce family in Sandrin.

An old fae she’d admitted to being mad at.

Maybe I’d started my investigation earlier than intended.

I think I just met Darius’s daughter.