I stare down at my plate again.
Yeah. That’s not going to happen. I’m a city chick. Squirrels are my friends. I’m not about to eat one, and that’s not accounting for the fact that I haven’t seen a squirrel since I’ve been in Faerie. How do I even know that when Shanley says squirrel, she means the same thing that I do?
Pass.
When I was a kid, I went through a phase where I was a super picky eater. My mom’s rule was no dessert unless I ate everything onto my plate. She was trying to make sure I ate well, but tell that to a stubborn seven-year-old. I became a pro at making it seem like I’d finished my food so that I could still get my dixie cup.
Those skills are about to come in handy.
After faking my first bite, I swallow and say, “Mmm. Very tasty.”
Shanley beams.
“Have some more,” she says, already slapping another piece of meat on my plate. “And, when you’re done, I’ll show you around the rest of the workshop.”
How can I say no?
I lose track of how long I’ve been inside and that worries me.
One good thing is that Shanley is still as friendly as ever. Th
e suspicious part of me has to wonder why. I can’t understand why she would take an interloping trespasser under her wing and welcome her into the sanctity of her clan’s tree without having some kind of ulterior motive. The longer I walk with her, talk with her, I think she’s being sincere.
At least, I hope she is.
When I mention that I should be going, she warns me about the rider again. As if I’ve forgotten all about him. I feel better knowing that he’s not specifically after me, though Shanley does admit that there are so many dangers in the Shadow Realm, it’s much safer to stay inside a sturdy tree.
Because that’s where I am.
The Shadow Realm.
Doesn’t that just sound nice?
As she leads me back toward the door, Shanley stops at one particular station, talking to the male imp working with a strange, shimmering black material. He finishes off the last stitch, tying a knot before using his sharp teeth to sever the thread. Once he’s done, he passes it over to Shanley.
She hands it to me. “If you’re really heading back to the dark woods, you’ll need this.”
It’s a cloak, straight out of a fantasy flick.
“Uh, it might be a little small when I get big again.”
The imp waves her free hand. “Woven from the shadows, it is. When you grow, it’ll grow with you. And the shadows will hide you, blend you, keep you safe.”
Really?
I’m suddenly reminded of what she told me at dinner. That the “guest” contract only covers the cake I ate, the food I pretended to scarf down, and the growing potion that I need if I want to be my normal size again. That everything else has a price.
“What do you want for it?”
She’s friendly but, I discover, she’s also a pretty shrewd salesperson. “Fifty gold coins it goes for but because you’ve found us, because you’re our guest, I can give it to you for a mere fifteen.”
That sounds like an amazing deal. One problem: I don’t have a single gold coin.
“I wish I could, but I have to say no.”
She loses a bit of her perpetually cheery grin. “Are you saying a cloak by my clan isn’t good enough for you, human?”
Human, not guest.