By Fairy Means or Foul: A Starfig Investigations Novel(9)

“Dragons have great taste. We’re actually quite refined.” I made sure to avoid looking at him when I said it as if he could read my thoughts. I also didn’t add, when we’re not eating humans. Meh, didn’t need to be said.

His gaze lingered on me like a caress for a moment before he turned back to the rest of the room.

“You really do have great taste,” he conceded.

“Let’s get something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”



Fifteen minutes later, I heated up some of my world famous harebringers stew, a stew so tasty one bowl simply wasn’t enough.

Quinn and I sat across from each other at my table, each of us perched on a large pile of pillows. Quinn kept adjusting his and trying to kneel which put him at an awkward height to the table. I gestured for him to sit, but he still seemed unsure. Well, he’d have to get used to it. No reason to kneel in my presence.

I held up my spoon in salute and took a bite of the stew. Nothing like it in the Elder. I learned it on one of my trips to the Hominus Realm. An old witch taught it to me in exchange for some help with a particularly troublesome troll. Believe me, I got the better end of the deal.

Quinn shifted his spoon around in his bowl, but I didn’t see him eat. I dug into my second helping before I finally said, “Try it.”

He wrinkled his nose just slightly, then realized what he was doing.

“Sorry,” he blurted out and quickly took a bite.

“I’m not going to punish you if you don’t like it, you know.”

He looked up at me with the wariest expression I’d ever seen and I knew he had indeed been punished for something similar. Then his expression relaxed.

“Oh, wow, this is so good.” He spooned in another bite then began shoveling it in.

“Hey, hey, there’s plenty more where that came from. No need to rush.” Though I understood how hard it was to resist.

“What’s in this?” he asked between bites.

“I’d tell you, except then I’d have to kill you,” I teased.

He paled.

Ah, crap.

“I’m joking.” I huffed. “Look, I get that I’m a big scary guy, but I’ve given you my word I’ll do you no harm.”

“I-I believe you.”

“I doubt it. It’s okay. I get it.”

“May I have another bowl of stew, please?” He cleared his throat.

I ladled some into his bowl. “Aren’t you allowed seconds normally?”

Keeping his eyes on his dish, Quinn shook his head.

I waited until he’d finished chewing before I asked, “Why not?”

His jaw firmed. “Brandsome didn’t want me to get fat. Said I needed to keep his asset in tip top shape. Never know who he’ll need to lend me to for a night or two.”

What did you say to something like that?

“You don’t have to be anything for me, Quinn. If you want to wear regular clothes and go without the face-paint, and eat seconds at every meal, that’s fine. And I’d appreciate it if you stopped with all the pheromone sprays and perfumes; they give me a headache. Unfortunately, I can’t take off your collar, since technically you still belong to Brandsome.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Quinn pushed his empty dish away.

“I’m not. I’m treating you like any guest who stays under my roof.”

“No one treats human males like others. Not in the Elder. You heard Brandsome. Without magic of my own, I’m little more than a glorified sex toy.” He began humming a lullaby I’d heard mothers in the Hominus Realm sing to their sleepy children. A pretty song. Too bad after the first few bars he stiffened and went silent, not meeting my eyes. “Sorry. Bad habit.”

Humming is a bad habit?

“I don’t mind. It was nice.”

“Brandsome hates it. I’m not supposed to do it.”

“I’m not Brandsome.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you. Lots of Elderians don’t like human music.” Quinn readjusted himself on his pillows, still avoiding eye contact.

“You forget, I’m not from the Elder. I don’t agree with several things creatures here do. Including the stupid social hierarchy. Who cares whether you’re a member of the Alphae Guild or the Lovely Creatures Guild or an indentured servant? It doesn’t make you a better person, regardless what others claim.”

As if my blasphemy called forth he-who-was-most-invested in the Elder’s status system, we both heard a resounding pop. Quinn flung himself backwards. Only one person could get through my wards with ease. I sighed.

“Hi, Dad. I thought I asked you to knock first.” Turning my attention to the figure no more than eight inches tall standing in the middle of my table, I raised an eyebrow.

“You shouldn’t have taken on an indentured servant. Especially not a human.” He gestured vaguely in Quinn’s direction without ever looking at Quinn.

“Nice to see you, too.”

He harrumphed. My dad excelled at that sound. It conveyed a whole realm of disappointment in just those few syllables.

“Well?” he finally snapped when I didn’t respond to his question. He drew himself up to his full eight inches. “What do you have to say for yourself?”