Chapter Eight
Radley stared at the fae sitting across the booth from him. After he’d taken a shower and donned proper clothing, he’d invited her to the local supe bar to discuss everything. It was interesting to see her sitting amidst so many werewolves with her wings out, the pink glow casting its colors across the tables around them. Too many were looking at them, and he wondered for a moment how Cricket went anywhere without her whereabouts broadcasted. Perhaps, they were so enamored with her beauty, they didn’t think of anything passed that. Here, they didn’t get many fae passing through, so they couldn’t keep her eyes off her.
It was mostly werewolves in the tavern, but there were a few other creatures in here. The two vampires in the corner had their eyes fixated on Cricket, no doubt wondering if her blood would be potent or not. Hers probably would be considering what her surname was, but the vamps held themselves in check for the moment and did nothing more than stare. A necromancer sat at a table off to the side, his head down as he curled around a frosted mug. A frog with a green glow sat on the table beside him, moving around every so often to remind the entire bar that it wasn’t, in fact, dead.
Cricket, to her credit, didn’t spare a single look for anyone in the bar except him, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of obliviousness or willpower. When she shifted in her seat and stealthily glanced at the vamps from beneath lashes where no one but he could notice, he realized it was the later. She knew the stir she was creating, but she kept her cool and met his eyes.
“I have to enter us into the Race Games,” she finally said, pulling out a tablet. “I’m a bit late but with enough money thrown at them, the Council will approve the application. The deadline is coming up, however, so I just need your information.”
“You don’t already know it?” he asked, staring at her.
She paused in her tapping on the screen and looked up at him. “I do, but I thought it proper to ask for it instead of just knowing it.”
“Fae don’t typically worry about feelings,” Radley pointed out.
“I know,” she said, but she didn’t elaborate. The weight in the words, however, told him another piece of the puzzle. Cricket Snapdragon used her emotions far more than most fae, and she’d been warned and commented on often enough that she hadn’t flinched when he’d mentioned something she wasn’t supposed to do. The problem was, did that make her different or clever? A clever fae would make it look like a weakness in order to use it to attack people. A different one just wouldn’t be able to help their instincts.
“You said you’re entering with a pseudonym,” Radley murmured, glancing around the tavern to make sure no one was listening. Werewolves had advanced hearing, but the booths were charmed to hide conversations, one of the reasons the bar was popular for business. “Why?”
He took a drink of his beer and watched her face shut down, watched her debate between telling him a truth or deflecting. He was tense still because he didn’t exactly trust her, but he’d agreed to the debt exchange so he’d at least entertain the fae. Funny, he almost thought about the deal as if he’d had a choice.
Cricket bit her lip. “If anyone finds out I’m a Snapdragon before I enter the race, before the first photo of me is released, I’ll be pulled out of the race.”
He sat back. “So you’re important to the family then?” He hummed, thinking it over. “Related to Graeme Snapdragon?” When she fidgeted without answering, his brows shot up. “Closely related?”
“He’s my father,” she admitted softly, barely loudly enough for him to hear.
Eyes widening in sudden revelation, he nearly broke his beer mug when his fist clenched around it. “You’re the heir—”
“Shut up,” she hissed. “If anyone finds out my plans, I’m screwed.”
“He’ll kill me,” Radley hissed back. “You’re putting my entire clan in danger.”
But Cricket was already shaking her head. “No. I won’t make it a secret that I called in a favor. You’ll have had no choice. Your clan will be protected. Besides, there will be too much press to do anything once the media finds out who I really am.”
Scowling, Radley crossed his arms across his chest. “What have you to prove? Risking your life like this? Risking mine?”
For the first time, Cricket looked uncomfortable sitting across from him. Whatever she was fighting was big, but he wasn’t surprised when she grit her teeth and said, “I’d rather not tell you. Just know it’s necessary and in addition to your debt paid, I’ll also make a large donation to your clan for stealing their alpha for a short time.” Her eyes softened as they looked at him. “Despite you only doing this to pay off your favor, I appreciate it either way.”
He studied her for a moment and nearly told her it was fine, but some instinct had him bristling and abrasive. He hadn’t wanted to be so harsh with her, but he couldn’t help the instinct. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to be here.” Her face fell and he looked away. “I’ll need to get my affairs in order before I leave. How much time do I have?”
She wiped her face clean, every inch the Snapdragon she was born. “We should leave tomorrow afternoon at the latest. I’d like your help picking out a car.”
He drained the rest of his beer and stood. “And what will your pseudonym be?”
“Gena Protea.”
He snorted. “Another flower.”
Draining her own drink, Cricket stood and met his eyes. Though she was shorter than him, her wings flared high, giving her extra height. “Protea flowers grow in some of the hardiest of places, Whiteclaw. It’s symbolic, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”
She moved passed him as if to leave the bar, and he watched her move through the crowd for a moment before he realized he hadn’t been hospitable at all. His mother would kill him.
Moving to follow the sparkling fae outside, he watched as she shook off her wings with a little twitch that was somehow cute and deadly all at once. His eyes caught on the tiny metal pieces at the top of her wings and wondered what they were used for, if they were weapons or simply for decoration.
“Did you need somewhere to stay?” he asked suddenly, his manners kicking in. He should at least attempt to keep her alive if he wanted to wipe the debt away.
“No,” she grunted, glancing at him with a scowl. “I don’t need you to have something else to hold over me.”
And with those words, Radley realized exactly how much of an asshole he’d been with her. He’d normally not be so abrasive, but the fae always set his nerves on fire. Just because Cricket seemed more morally sound than others didn’t mean she actually was. It could all be a trick, a way to fool him into growing complacent.
“It was worth a shot,” he fired back, as if he’d intended the entire time to have her owe him something. It was easier to believe than the idea of him just wanting to be hospitable.
With a final lingering look, Cricket dismissed him, flared her wings wide, and shot into the sky. Despite their situation, Radley still found himself watching the sparkle until he could no longer make her out in the night sky among all the stars.
Only then did he return inside the bar and order another beer. After all, he felt like he was going to need all the help he could get to deal with the headstrong fae.