Half Wylde | Book 1

Twelve: Pearl Street

Puko cawed in my ear. A startling wake up call, especially since it took me a moment to recognize the room. It had been so long since the outpost that the softness of my bed had been a problem to sleep on. I had thrown the linens on the floor at some point, and curled up on my side near the edge of the mattress. The pillows I had thrown against the wall in my sleep.

All I could see when I opened my eyes were the long black tail feathers of an annoying raven. He turned to face me, and with a peck on my nose, Puko flapped away out the balcony window. My back was too stiff to keep lying down, so I sat up and tried to stretch it out. The air was too cool to stay dressed in thin cotton, so I found my travel bag and dug out the cleanest shirt and breeches I had. I cleaned my face and tried to tame my hair at the fine vanity, but I gave up and ventured out my door.

I studied the hallway as I walked along. I had walked on rugs, but never carpet before coming here. I ran my fingers over the ornately carved frames that held the pictures of strange fae. The other doors, like my own, were a solid color, but the door frames were all painted with wild flowers. Every other lantern in the hall was lit. Just enough light to mix with the rising sun and make it bright enough to see where you were going. By the time I had reached the end of the hall and the top of the stairs, my stomach growled. So downstairs I went.

The sun didn't reach quite this far down yet and the great fireplace had to be lit both for warmth and light. I heard birds outside, and the rustling of leaves in the wind. Activity from the kitchen drew my interest.

"Miss Wren, please come have some breakfast." A light voice sang through the great room from the doorway opposite me. The voice wasn't one I knew, but I also heard the unmistakable grunt of Thain when he doesn't wait for his tea to cool. If Thain was there too, it was probably a friend.

The kitchen was large. One end of the room held the cook-stove and shelves of storage. A carved lattice of white wood divided the working end from the rest of the room, which held a table under a window to the garden. Thain gestured me to sit with him, and I did. Bowls of fruit and strange oatcakes spread before me.

"Good morning. I hope you slept well." Thain put an oat cake on the plate in front of me.

"Yes, thank you." I said, inhaling the aroma from the warm pastry.

"I wonder how true that is." Thain frowned and drank from his tea. "Something the fae can do, is sense a change in mood or tension from a person. The moment you answered, I sensed a shift in you."

"Well," I blushed. "The bed is a little soft after all those nights on the road. I'll get used to it."Thain laughed, that low feral joy of his that used to frighten me. His sharp silver eyes caught me and he smiled. "I can relate to that. After weeks on the road a bed can be a little too much sometimes."

"Miss Wren, can I get you milk for your tea?" She could have been Wairen's sister. Pale and tall and standing up straight. A birch fae, if she stood still I would have thought she was a tree. She came over with a delicate cup and poured steaming tea in it.

"No, thank you." I watched her move in that same stiff way Wairen did. "I didn't know Thain had more than one fae working in his house. It's nice to meet you."

"It is nice to meet you again, Miss Wren." The birch fae bowed her head and returned to the kitchen.

"That is Wairen." Thain smiled. "The tree sprites don't understand male and female too well. What does a tree care for 'that sort of nonsense' as Wairen puts it. They think you will be more comfortable being served by something more female in appearance."

"Oh." I stared after Wairen, who was now kneading some sort of dough on the counter. If I had a say in it, I wouldn't be served by anyone.

"You should take advantage of Wairen. Not only do they know plenty of things about