Page 19 of Faerie Fate (Fae Academy for Halflings #7)

Chapter Twelve

M ike, Bronwen, and I exchanged stunned glances.

“How did you know?” Bronwen blurted out.

Mike lifted his hand to stop her, hissing. “Keep your voice down, Bron.”

“I’m just trying to figure this out.” Her voice quieted. “I mean, she stepped in to help us when she didn’t have to, and now she can tell we’re from the future?”

Poppy didn’t seem to care what Bronwen said. “I do what I like when it serves a purpose.”

We’d been caught so easily. I tried to get up from the seat and found my ass practically glued to the wood. Gambles and games. Magic and monsters. I scowled at Poppy and snatched my hand back from my drink, the dark liquid sloshing over the side of the cup.

“What’s the matter? Did you think you wouldn’t be caught?” Poppy’s mouth tweaked up in a lazy smile. “Let’s just say that I see things others do not.”

What did this mean in terms of changing history?

I hated the way she laughed, a low grinding sound.

“I can sense the magic. I’m a bounty hunter, right? It’s my job to make sure I know everything about everybody.” She shifted back and crossed her arms over her chest to mirror Mike’s posture. “You three stick out like a decapitated arm.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them willing to look away.

I took a sip of my drink to hide my tremor and winced as I gulped. The thing tasted awful and tightened my chest.

What was her game? I wasn’t sure. But it worried me to consider that we’d royally stepped into something we weren’t prepared for.

Maybe it was the way she and Mike pinned each other in place with their eyes, maybe it was her confidence, but I had to admit the situation did terrible things to my insides.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you can’t move,” she said. “Magic, darlings. Didn’t you sense it?”

My breath pushed past my teeth. No one immediately answered her, and if the panicked look on Bronwen’s face was anything to judge by, they were having the same issues moving that I was.

Had Poppy somehow forced us to freeze in place? And was it fae magic, or something else?

Poppy’s grin widened but her eyes maintained every scrap of fierceness. “Let’s just start with names. You, girl.” She snapped her fingers in front of Bronwen’s face. “You going to tell me your name or are you going to lose it and start crying?”

Bronwen hid her reaction in her drink the same way I did. Time travel must have really messed her up more than I thought because the Bronwen Minuti I knew and loved would have shown her wolf at the finger snap thing.

Mike was the first one to regain his wits. “That’s Bronwen. I’m Michael, this is Tavi. And Noren, the direwolf.”

Panic spiked inside my head and beads of sweat plastered the frayed threads of the stolen tunic collar to my throat. “Noren?” I sat up straighter, shocked to see a familiar lupine head poking through the back door that more than likely led to the kitchen. “He was supposed to stand guard.”

“Maybe he thought you needed him more here.” Poppy’s tone went gentle. “Oh, my. What do we have here?”

Mike shouldn’t have introduced Noren, I thought as I reached out for the direwolf, mentally and physically. But he cared about my companion, too. It almost made me forgive Mike for how off he’d been acting towards me. Almost.

Poppy bobbed her head in acknowledgement of us, her attention lingering on Noren. “Isn’t everyday you see a direwolf.” She waited, marking his approach. “Feral, primitive magic. Bloodthirsty.” She bit out every word.

I hugged Noren tightly the moment he made it to my side. “He’s all those things and more to my enemies,” I told her.

She barked out a laugh. “Cute, girl, cute. You think I’m intimidated by a wolf? I might be one of the only people who have seen horrors to rival one of them.” She jerked her chin at Noren. “Now that we all know each other, let’s order some food. I’m starving. Been on the road for too long.”

“Sounds good.” Mike craned his head for a better look at the barkeep and something like appreciation flashed in Poppy’s gaze.

When did we go from tense to comfortable? What changed?

Poppy’s gaze met mine, watching me, and although her smile had disappeared, her eyes boasted a glimmer of satisfaction.

“A man after my own heart,” she said appraisingly. “Always hungry, huh? Same. Can’t get enough to fuel the machine most days. Sylvester!” She called out the bartender’s name like the blast of a trumpet.

Although he didn’t exactly hurry over, he did hustle around the bar and fix her with a long look.

“Four specials of the day. And I know you’ve got a load of fresh beef back there so do not bullshit me and try to feed me the slop you got last week,” Poppy demanded. “I’ll gut you like a fish.”

Sylvester’s expression soured. “I’d never bullshit you, Miss.”

“Oh, you have before, and you will again. But try it today and I’ll slice off your index fingers before I slice you from navel to neck,” Poppy warned with a casual teasing lilt. Except I got the feeling she wasn’t joking. “Joint by joint!”

She called the last bit of threat after him, but Sylvester had already moved back to the kitchen, his exit marked by a puff of belched smoke that smelled like roasted beef.

Poppy resettled herself at the table with a particularly wide smile for Mike, and I almost bit off my own tongue.

“Handsome boy, too. Good-looking stock. Healthy.” She cataloged him like an appraiser at a livestock fair. “Things are good in the future, then?”

Maybe he liked the blunt way she spoke, as though the woman pulled no punches, or maybe he liked the way she looked. How could he not? She was luminous. Poppy’s unblemished neck practically glowed even in the dim light of the tavern.

“There’s plenty of food in the future, if that’s what you mean,” Mike replied. He dropped his arms to his sides with his hands loose on his lap. “And thank you for the compliment.”

I hated the awareness of his grin because it felt so achingly familiar. I hated the way the blonde beauty stared at Mike, practically forgetting that Bronwen and I were there at all.

“You’re welcome. I say what I mean. Mean what I say, most times. Even when I lie.”

Poppy’s smile stiffened my shoulders.

“It’s always good to find a woman with a healthy appetite. And one who knows how to defend it, too,” Mike joked.

Poppy laughed again, her hand moving automatically to her knife. “Defense is my middle name. I’m better with a blade than a fork, let me tell you. I’m a magician with a knife.”

Bronwen interrupted. “What is it that you do, exactly?” She’d found the perfect time to butt in. “You said you’re a bounty hunter. Do you hunt traitors to the crown, or is it more a matter of hire? Of whoever has the heaviest purse?”

Poppy took a sip from her tankard. Her expression, her haunted smile, made both me and Bronwen flinch. Mike appeared to have gotten over his hesitation pretty damn quickly.

“I bring in the people no one else can,” she replied. “And on occasion, I’ve been known to spin a tale or two. The rest of my high points are not appropriate for polite company.”

Mike watched Poppy closely, but not, I suspected, for the same reasons we did. He scrutinized her minuscule movements, all of them graceful and honed. She didn’t so much as blink without a reason for it.

Sylvester returned promptly, carrying a wide tray with four bowls of mouth-watering beef and fat yellow potatoes floating in a sea of reddish-brown broth. Bits of green produce poked up from the bottom of the bowl, something I couldn’t identify.

“Here.” Sylvester set her bowl reverently in front of Poppy and practically tossed the rest on the table. Like he was eager for us to eat and go about our business, our asses only temporarily saved by her interference.

He didn’t want us here. The feeling was mutual.

Poppy drew another handful of small wooden rounds from the pocket of her cloak and handed it off to Sylvester with a slight rattle of chain mail. Her loaded expression told him to keep his mouth shut about whatever he clearly wanted to say regarding our presence.

“It’s on me this time,” she told us. “My pleasure. It’s not every day you meet three fae from the future. Although…” She drew in a breath and plunged her fork into the beef, splitting the meaty piece. “Two of you aren’t pure fae, are you?”

I lifted a hand to stop her from saying anything else. Unfortunately, my fork went with the gesture and splattered broth across the table top.

“Damn, Tavi, watch out.” Mike jerked back in time to avoid one of the spatters, which Noren was only too happy to lick up. “We’re trying to be inconspicuous.”

I might as well not say anything at all. What did it matter?

My chest constricted and I scrubbed at the last bits of broth with the back of my sleeve. “Sorry,” I muttered.

He shook his head. The way he was acting, Mike had already fallen out of love with me. That much was clear. It shouldn’t bother me the way it did. From the moment I met him I’d halfway suspected he’d move on to greener pastures.

Who would want to be with me? Especially now.

There was just something about Poppy designed to draw attention, an inherent sort of magnetism. Even Bronwen was glancing between the two of us like she wanted me to apologize or something.

“I won’t say a word, trust me. Not with the upheaval going on right now.” Poppy shivered, lifting a steaming potato to her lips. “The king is going to war with the pixies. You mark my words.”

She clamped down on the potato and steam belched from her mouth like a dragon.

“Why?” Bronwen asked, scrubbing Noren’s head with her free hand while she ate with the other. “I don’t understand why the pixies would be under attack.”

“Isn’t it obvious? The kingdom wants what they have. Secrets beyond the Seelie and Unseelie courts. A different type of magic fae can’t tap into without their help. But the king doesn’t quite like relying on anyone else for assistance.”

“The monarchy is like that,” Mike said, stirring the contents of his bowl in aimless circles.

Poppy agreed. “They can’t stand to see anyone outside of themselves doing better than they are.”

Mike grinned. “Sounds like you’ve been on the wrong end of a few royals.”

“You could say that.”

The two shared a fond smile again and I wanted to die. Appetite gone, I pushed my bowl away with only a few pieces of meat missing. They turned to sawdust in my gut and my scar gave another ominous throb.

“If the two of you would prefer to chat with each other in private, then Bronwen and Noren and I can find a different table.” It was a shitty thing to say but with the tavern empty, we had our pick.

Bronwen swallowed an eep of surprise at my tone but Mike hardly glanced my way.

“It’s fine,” he replied. “You’re just easy to talk to.” He wasn’t speaking to me.

Poppy shrugged. “Tricks of the trade, you could call it. I have a way with people. A magnetism, some might say.”

Defiance flared up hot inside of me and I jerked myself back from stabbing her with the tines of the fork.

Bronwen, watching me, pushed my bowl closer, urging me without words to eat. The thought of the food now was one of the least appealing prospects I could think of despite my empty stomach.

“Well,” I said slowly, “whatever the tricks of your trade, thank you for the food and for saving us from Sylvester. But we really need to get going.”

Mike finally met my eyes, working overtime to pry himself away from Poppy and her magnetism before he jerked his head in her direction. “Why don’t we ask her about it, Tavi?”

“I’d rather not,” I replied, keeping the sarcasm at bay as I swigged from my drink. “She already knows too much about us.”

Bronwen doubtfully arched a brow, but Poppy was staring and pinpricks of discomfort swam around us.

“Look, cards on the table? We’re here to find a witch,” Mike began. He pressed his palm flat against the wood as Bronwen squawked in protest.

“Are you out of your mind?” I asked him through gritted teeth. “Mike!”

He waved our concern away and focused on Poppy. “We’re looking for the great seer Oxana the Sightless. We heard she was in this area during the time of the Red Dawn. I’m not sure what you call this period now, but where we’re from, that’s the label. She made a great prophecy and we need her help.”

“ Mike ,” I said through gritted teeth, clenching the fork tightly enough to bend it. “Shut the hell up.”

We didn’t know this woman and we couldn’t trust her, no matter what kind of immediate romantic connection the prince felt toward the bounty hunter. Why would he trust her this way? Why would he open up?—

The door to the tavern slammed into the wall and my senses prickled. A little bit of apprehension and a shit ton of PTSD from the attack in the last tavern we’d been in added to the mix.

Only this time, the newcomers weren’t staring us down. They fixed their eyes and the tips of their swords on Sylvester.

“You owe us money, old man,” the clear leader snarled. “And it’s time for you to pay what you owe.”

Sylvester, to his credit, refused to back down.

He stopped his furious scrubbing of a pewter pitcher and scoffed, the lines of magma beginning to glow across his face again.

“You’ll have to take it out of my cold dead hands, Lezar, because I don’t have what I owe you, just as I didn’t have it when you came in yesterday. ”

Lezar laughed; his head tipped back and the lank, greasy strands of hair touched the cradle of his neck. “You assured me you’d get the money, though. I see from the lack of patrons you might have issues scrounging it together. You?—”

He’d caught sight of Poppy now and the wolf at my side. He froze, stared at us again, taking our mettle. Then peeled his lips back and showed lines of pointed fangs like a shark. Lezar’s eyes took on the distinctive slitted pupils of the same creature.

“Well, Poppy. Imagine my surprise at seeing you. Back again?”

She took an unbothered sip of broth and slurped it loudly. “It’s not really a surprise to me, Lezar. I had a gut feeling I’d step in shit today. And here you are.”

It was the last thing she said before Lezar and his cronies charged us.