Page 8 of Pixie Problems

Liam grinned. "Not for that. Evidently you complained at some point, Aspen heard and told Brack, and Brack told me. I would say you should get some makeup too, but you seem to have that."

"Wait..." I turned in the seat to face him. "So who got me the makeup when I moved in?"

"What makeup?" he asked, making it clear it wasn't him.

"There was a gift bag filled with it on my bed that first day. Like, this cute green one with little flowers drawn on it. I mean, the print had the flowers. It had pretty much everything."

He just chuckled, checked traffic, then turned into the parking area before another boutique store. "That sounds like your girlfriend's work. Don't try to thank her. You already used it, and that's all Aspen will want. Most likely, it's her apology for glamouring you."

"She never said a thing!" I gasped.

He found a space and stopped the car. After turning it off, he looked over. "That's how they work. If she doesn't tell you, then you don't need to feel like you have a debt. If you appreciate it, she feels like she did good. She doesn't need the personal accolades. She merely wanted to be nice, and that's not always easy for them. They're a proud people, Rain. Even the wildlings. Just make a comment about how nice it is to have and she'll be tickled."

"Easy," I assured him. "But the shadows?"

"Seem to be fine," he replied. "Rain, you are the Morrigan. You control the magic of the wildlings now. No, I don't know how that works, but I know it makes you the champion of the Crow King."

"Jack's only a bastard prince," I countered.

"And the highest-ranking crow on Earth," Liam said. "If he wasn't, he wouldn't have the power. It could also mean his father is trapped on Faerie, dead, or anything else. But if Jack has the ability to make a Morrigan, I'm thinking that says he's recognized by the magic."

"Ok?" Because I wasn't quite sure how any of this applied to my situation now.

"Jack picked you, Rain," he clarified. "That crow chose you, out of all the possible people he's met in his very long fae-crow life. You. I happen tothink it's because he felt you're strong enough and responsible enough to control the magic he's given you."

"Ok, and?" I pressed.

"And that means you can go shopping without letting it cause problems, right?"

Oh, great. Put all the responsibility on me! "But I don't know how!"

"Then just watch it, and if things get weird, we'll leave." He lifted a brow. "Good compromise? Because you really do need athletic wear for your detention class."

"Morrigan class," I grumbled. "Ms. Rhodes said I wasn't in trouble."

"Mhm, but do you feel special because of it?"

"No," I said around a little chuckle. "I feel like I got a semester of detention."

"Exactly." And he pushed open his door.

I paused to scrub at my own face, then hurried to get out and join him. This wasn't the same place we'd come for my school uniforms. This was a much bigger store, and from the stuff I could see through the windows, a lot nicer. We walked in together, but I paused to get my bearings. Liam simply clasped my shoulders and angled me toward the women's side of the building.

"That's the side you want, kiddo. At least get a few outfits, ok? Otherwise, I might end up buying you a poodle skirt just to make sure you're clothed."

I shot him a dirty look. "You really need to work on your dad jokes. Poodle skirt? Really?"

"I was trying to think of the one thing I knew would be a threat. If I said pink, it would be your favorite color. If I said black, then that would be. I'm pretty sure you don't have some secret poodle skirt obsession, do you?"

"Nope." So I wandered my way into the racks of clothes. This would be ok. It had to be. But just to make sure, I looked down at the shadow under my feet and whispered, "Don't screw this up for me, ok?"

Chapter Three

RAIN

Liam didn't follow me into the women's section. He went in a slightly different direction. I could see his head over the tops of the racks, but not what he was looking at. Probably clothes for him or Bracken. It was that side of the store, and this place wasn't exactly huge. The joys of small-town Iowa: no big-name stores.

But then I hit the motherload. In the middle of the women's area were tons of graphic tees in the sorts of prints I'd wear. Beside them was an entire table with jeans stacked on top. Low-rise, mid-rise, and high-waisted. Light wash, brown-tinged, or dark indigo. Distressed or not. Deciding to play it safe, I chose a pair of dark indigo high-waisted jeans without tears.