He looked at the board, but it was all scribbles to him. “I don’t know.”
She gave him a questioning look but said nothing.
He shrugged. “Surprise me.”
It would all be a surprise. He couldn’t read the board. Most fairies couldn’t read; it was a very human thing to do.
“Two burgers with the works, fries, and medium lemonades.”
The man rang up the total, and Taryn handed over two leaves which the human accepted as money without even blinking. Verden bit back the grin. She’d been so worried about pulling that trick off, but as he’d pointed out on the walk down, if she didn’t do it, then there would be no meal. Besides, she was old enough to be doing simple tricks, and it’s not as though anyone was getting hurt. No one was going to lose their soul or get caught in a deal. It was just an extension of the glamour they were using to hide what they were.
They moved away from the counter and waited. She opened up a pile of papers that was sitting on a table.
“Wow.” She pointed to something near the top. “I’ve been away over a month.”
“Time moves differently.”
“I know…I just didn’t think it was that different.” She looked at the first page, then turned to the next one. “That’s not good. Golden staph outbreaks in hospitals and an antibiotic resistance TB strain.” She flicked another page. “It’s like the first sign of the apocalypse. Are you reading any of this?”
“No.”
She turned her head a fraction, puzzlement in her eyes and in the way her eyebrows pinched together. “It’s important. Maybe related to”—she lowered her voice—“Annwyn.”
Oh, it was definitely related to Annwyn. The breakdown of power was bleeding across the veil. But it wasn’t the bad news that bothered him. It was his inability to read, something that had never worried him before. Yet now it did. While Taryn fit into this world, he didn’t. He’d seen it but never lived in it.
For a moment he considered not saying anything, but he didn’t want to lie to Taryn. “I can’t read.” Her lips parted, but he spoke before she could and defended his lack of skill. “I’ve never needed to learn.”
She nodded. “I guess most of the Court can’t read.”
“You’d be guessing right.”
The man rang a bell and she picked up the tray of food, and they went back outside to sit. Over the road, little gray squirrels scampered over the grass and up the tree.
“Do you have any idea how guilty I feel right now?” she whispered.
“Fairies have been doing things like that for as long as money has been around. It’s not like we carry coins.” Gems, silver or gold, silks, and other fine objects were usually traded. More often it was intangibles, which meant being very careful with the wording of what was being agreed to. Never make a deal in haste, as it would come back to haunt.
“It’s paper money now.” She corrected as she popped a fry in her mouth, then licked the salt off her fingers, her tongue darting out for a moment. He knew what that tongue felt like when applied to skin. Just watching her enjoy the food was worthwhile. “Try some.”
He unwrapped the burger. It certainly wasn’t elegant like Court food. Plant, meat, and cheese hung out the sides. It was rather unappetizing. Then he looked at Taryn and she was eating as though it was the first good meal she’d had since arriving at Court. He could do this for her—if he took the meat out.
He opened up the bun and pulled out the dead flesh, then closed it back up and took a bite. It was worse than it looked, but he chewed and swallowed and wished he had a glass of berry wine to wash it down with. He settled for the soft drink. While he’d braced for something terrible, it was pleasant. Bubbly and sweet.
“I have missed this so much.” She popped more fries in her mouth and made a sound that previously he’d only heard her make when they were alone and naked.
This meal was making her so happy. He tried to be more enthusiastic. It couldn’t be that bad; it was just different. After a couple more bites, he’d decided it really was that bad and he couldn’t eat any more. Instead, he concentrated on the drink.
She noticed. “You don’t like it.”
“It’s different.” He really didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“And you don’t eat meat. I didn’t even ask. Do you want something else?”
“It’s fine. There is no meat at Court; we don’t eat dead things.”
She paused about to take another bite. “Does that mean I shouldn’t be eating it? Is there a reason?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of, just that meat isn’t served in Annwyn. We don’t eat death. When we hunt, it’s for status and the kill it is returned to the earth.”
“So if you’ve never eaten meat, how do you know you don’t like it?” She raised one eyebrow.
He didn’t. He’d been trying to make the burger more like what he was used to. With her watching he broke a piece of the meat patty and put it in his mouth. It didn’t taste like death, but it didn’t taste like anything he wanted to eat again either. “How about I skip the meat and stick with the fries and drink?”
“As long as you don’t mind me eating meat.”
He smiled. “Not at all.”
“See, if we weren’t having our first date, I’d have never known you were a vegetarian.” She raised her paper cup. “To first dates.”
He raised his cup so they tapped. “To many more.”
“So if you weren’t the Hunter, what would you be doing?” she said after sipping her drink.
He never spoke about his family, though he was sure most knew his background simply because it was always wise to know your opponent. “My parents farm on the outer reaches of Annwyn.”
“There are farms?”
“Where do you think the food comes from? Someone has to grow it and produce it.”
Her lips parted as she thought about it. “I never realized. My parents never mentioned anything other than Court.”
“Most Court fairies don’t. They don’t like to think of anything other than themselves.” Something he’d have never said aloud in Annwyn. Yet here he didn’t have to censor every word. The humans around them were too involved in their own conversation. No one cared and no one was watching.
“You’re a Court fairy.” She pointed a fry at him.
“I am now.” He nodded and took the fry from her. “But I have lived beyond Court. It was my decision to leave the farm. I went in knowing what I was doing.” But not realizing what it would cost him. “So what do you do here? You aren’t part of the Brownie compact that your parents made.”
“My father is bound by the compact; my mother isn’t. She made sure I had a childhood instead of being trapped in the house. I went to school like everyone else, and I have been working as a cleaner to get enough cash for clothes. I think she is glad I’ve been called to Court. She didn’t like me running around like a human.”
“Plenty of fairies live here, acting human and rarely coming to Court.”
“Except now.” She scrunched up the paper, her burger now gone.
He covered her hand with his and squeezed gently. “Hey, there is time. Felan hasn’t even lined up a bride yet. He can’t claim the throne on his own.”
“True.” She sighed and leaned back in her seat. “I suppose we have to go back.”
“It’s been a lovely afternoon.” One he didn’t really want to end. He’d never imagined that being in the mortal world surrounded by humans could be so pleasant. Not that he could imagine living here. Fairies belonged in Annwyn, if not at Court.
“Despite the food.” But there was a glint her eye and he knew she wasn’t offended by his lack of eating.
She gathered up the garbage and threw it in the bin; then they started the walk back to the doorway. On the trail they passed a few walkers, but he let the magic go and they vanished from sight, leaving them free to leave the trail and wander through the forest hand in hand—as if everything were perfect. As if they wouldn’t have to go back to ignoring each other except when required to speak and play. It was becoming harder and harder to watch and say nothing.