Prince of Wolves: Autumn Court #3 (Rosethorn Valley Fae Romance)

by Tasha Black

  The pup whimpered and Varik pressed his lips to the warmth of the fuzzy little head, trying to comfort himself as much as he was the small beast.

  5

  Ashe

  Ashe awoke feeling exhilarated.

  She opened her eyes and remembered where she was.

  Sunlight filled the sweet little apartment, lending it a cheery air. She hopped up and looked out the windows to see if the sleepy street had come to life as well.

  Cars were parking in the little area in front and people were heading in and out of the grocery store and the café next door.

  She headed to the bathroom to freshen up and then wandered into the kitchen to see about her own breakfast.

  From the window above the sink she could see the backyard. A row of tall sycamore trees and rhododendron bushes lined the property.

  She almost did a double take when she saw Varik and Ronan sitting on the ground under one of the sycamores.

  We will stay close and keep eyes on you.

  His rough voice echoed in her head, and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.

  Now that she was free to observe him without him looking at her, she decided to drink in her fill.

  He was tall and tough, but a hint of fae delicacy hung about him anyway. It was something about the flash of his violet eyes, the sharpness of his cheekbones.

  He lounged carelessly against the tree trunk, yet there was something coiled and alert inside him. She could sense it, as if it were a flame burning low, waiting to spark into action.

  The pup scampered around in the sunlight, chasing leaves and bugs with one ear up and the other flopping over playfully.

  In daylight, she could see that she had been wrong about him looking like a guard dog. The fur pattern was all wrong for that.

  What he really looked like was a wolf cub…

  A high-pitched clatter distracted her from her thoughts, and she turned away from the window to find the source.

  As loud as it was, it was hard to pinpoint, even in the small space, so she stalked around the apartment trying to identify the cause.

  It stopped before she could locate it, but started up again a moment later. This time, her eyes went to the leather purse slung on a kitchen stool. The sound seemed to be coming from inside.

  Ashe stuck her hand into the bag and found the culprit.

  It was some sort of gadget. The back had a metallic sheen, and the front was smooth glass with electric light emanating from it.

  The Barry White Diner was scrolling across the glass at intervals, along with the instructions - slide to answer.

  Ashe wasn’t exactly sure of the question, but she slid her finger along the glass anyway.

  “Willow,” someone shouted from inside the thing.

  “H-hello?” she said holding it closer to her face.

  “You’re on early lunch shift today,” the person yelled. “Where are you?”

  “I’m… home,” she replied.

  “Well, you need to be at work,” the person shot back. “Now.”

  “I’m sorry,” she began.

  But the person seemed to have gone.

  She’d heard tales of what the mortals accomplished with technology, but using such a marvelous communication device was exhilarating. It was like all humans had access to a touch of magic.

  The thought of going to work at the diner was daunting, but she knew she would have to conquer her fear if she was to make this life her own.

  “Okay, you can do this,” Ashe told herself.

  She headed for the closet with the blouses and skirts and gathered what she needed, changing quickly, and grabbing the giant purse to bring with her.

  She locked her door and headed down the stairs to the street below. She’d never had the need to lock anything before, but she was trying to follow Willow’s lead.

  Ashe had done her best to pay attention last night when her co-worker had given her a ride home. It would be at least a fifteen-minute walk back to the diner, but she knew what to do.

  There was a café called Le Sucre next to the Barrel Grocery, right under her apartment. She ducked inside to grab something to eat on the way to work.

  “The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree. Hey, Willow, Willow, Willow,” a cheerful man behind the counter sang to her. A tag on his chest said Carl.

  “Um, hello,” she replied awkwardly.

  “What can I get you this morning?” he asked.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at something pink and translucent swirling in a glass box.

  “That’s pink lemonade,” he told her. “Would you like a glass?”

  “Yes, please,” she said. “And… that.” She pointed to a pastry from the case.

  “Good for you, it’s time you treated yourself,” he said. “For here or to go?”

  She blinked at him, completely lost.

  “Are you going to sit down here to eat?” he asked patiently.

  “No, I want to bring it with me,” she said.

  “To go, it is,” he replied triumphantly.

  She pulled all the coin from Willow’s purse. It was a mix of assorted metals, and a wad of strange green bills.

  Carl gave her an odd look, but helped her count out what she owed.

  She headed off with the beverage in one hand and the pastry in the other, feeling a sense of accomplishment at her transaction.

  The little town of Rosethorn Valley was sheltered between high ridges. She followed the treelined street, mechanical coaches zipping past her.

  She supposed the houses were old by mortal standards, with thick stucco walls and decorative tiles near the windows. The roofing was terra cotta, as if these mortals had wanted their homes to look like they were topped with potted plants.

  Smoke rose from a few of the chimneys, though it was not unseasonably cold.

  She took a sip of the beverage and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head with pleasure. It was so sweet. It must have cost a fortune.

  She took a bite of the pastry. It was crescent shaped and flaky, and she could taste the good quality of the butter it was baked with as it melted in her mouth.

  So there was one more thing she liked about the mortal realm.

  She walked on happily, finishing her decadent meal.

  By the time she reached the diner, she was feeling quite energetic, though she was a little nervous about being late.

  “There you are,” a woman said when she walked in.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ashe replied. “I didn’t realize I had work duty today.”

  “Didn’t you put it in your phone?” the woman asked.

  Ashe noticed the woman had a tag that said Cressida on her blouse.

  “I swear I watched you put your shifts into your phone when I posted them,” the one called Cressida added.

  “I must have put it in wrong,” Ashe said.

  “Let me see your phone,” Cressida said, hand out.

  Ashe began emptying her purse onto the counter, pretending to look for whatever it was Cressida wanted.

  “Jesus, Ashe, here,” Cressida said, snatching up the metal and glass contraption that had alerted her to her work this morning. “Touch the button.”

  Ashe touched the round button at the bottom of the screen and the thing sprang to life.

  She watched carefully as Cressida pressed a tiny image of a calendar.

  Suddenly a calendar took up the whole screen.

  “There,” Cressida said. “You did put it in.”

  She held up the phone and Ashe saw the day with two items entered. The first said Work and the second said Weekend Backpacks. Each had an address and a time assigned.

  “Hey, you’re volunteering with Eva Cortez doing backpacks?” Cressida asked, her voice suddenly more friendly. “That’s really nice.”

  Ashe nodded and hoped that there would be exactly zero follow-up questions. Cressida didn’t ask her anything, but she did wrinkle her nose a bit and cock her head in a quizzical way that made
Ashe think of the puppy. She hoped she hadn’t used too much of Willow’s scented bath products.

  “Well, get to work,” Cressida said, tossing an apron at her.

  Ashe tied it around her waist.

  “You’re in the window section,” Cressida said, giving her an odd look. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Uh, sure,” Ashe replied.

  The bell over the door jingled and Varik walked in, a large satchel over his shoulder.

  “One please,” he said to Cressida in a bored way.

  She arched an eyebrow at Ashe and then led him to a table by the window.

  Ashe waited until Cressida scurried off, and then headed over to greet him.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “I have to keep eyes on you,” he hissed back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Working,” she said proudly.

  “Do you even know what you’re supposed to be doing?” he asked, looking incredulous.

  “I’m… a serving girl,” she replied uncertainly. “I think. I may also be responsible for these windows in some way.”

  “That’s actually pretty accurate,” he replied. “Not the part about the windows. That just means you will be responsible for the tables in this area. Do you know how to do it?”

  “Not really,” she admitted.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said to himself. “Look, see this.”

  She looked at the laminated sheet he held in his hand. It was yellow and covered in the names of food dishes.

  “When people come in you ask them what they would like to drink,” he said. “Then you write that down.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “There should be a notepad in your apron,” he said. “And a name tag.”

  Sure enough, she plunged her hand into the apron and came out with a note pad, pen, and tag. She affixed it to her blouse.

  Willow.

  She would have to get used to it sometime.

  “After you bring the drinks, you’ll ask what they would like to eat,” he went on. “Whatever they choose will come from the menu. You’ll write down what they want on the pad, and then go back to the kitchen, tear off the slip of paper with the food on it and put it on the counter for the cooks. When the food is ready, they will ring a bell and say it’s up. Then you’ll get it and bring it to the customer. Does this make sense?”

  “Sounds simple enough,” Ashe said uncertainly.

  Varik chuckled.

  “We’ll see,” he said darkly.

  “So what would you like to drink, my lord?” she asked politely.

  His eyebrows went up.

  “That’s what I ask, right?” she said. “Drinks first, then food.”

  “Sure, yeah,” he told her. “But don’t call anyone my lord. Here it’s sir for men and ma’am for ladies.”

  “Well, you could have told me that before,” she sniffed.

  He grinned at her wolfishly and she felt all melty inside, as if she were a snow woman turning into a puddle.

  “Bring me a coffee,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied and scurried off to retrieve it.

  Behind the main counter stood pots of coffee and hot water much like they had in the kitchens at home. There were also glass boxes with juice and other beverages.

  She watched another serving girl take a tray and place a cup and saucer on it, pour coffee out, grab a spoon and a small box of sugar and a bowl of tiny cups of cream to add to the tray.

  Ashe did the same and brought it all back to Varik, finding the balancing easier than she’d expected.

  “Very good,” he told her.

  “What would you like to eat, m-sir?” she asked, catching herself at the last moment.

  “How about steak and eggs?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, writing it down.

  “When someone asks for steak, you ask How would you like it cooked?” he said. “And when you ask for eggs, you ask How do you want them?”

  There was more to remember here than she had anticipated. But Ashe was ready for the challenge.

  “How would you like your steak cooked, sir?” she asked.

  “I want it raw,” he said.

  Her eyebrows went up.

  He opened his satchel slightly and she could see the pup was sleeping inside.

  “Oh,” she said. “How would you like your eggs?”

  “Over easy,” he said lazily.

  She wrote it all down, and then headed to the main counter.

  She could see the spike with paper orders fluttering on it. She placed Varik’s order down on the spike with the others.

  A moment later someone was yelling for Willow.

  It took Ashe a moment to remember that was her now.

  She trotted back to the kitchen.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” one of the cooks asked. “You know we can’t serve raw meat.”

  She hadn’t known that at all. Varik was trying to trick her.

  “It was some kind of joke,” she echoed, forgetting to smile.

  The cook’s eyebrows went up.

  “He would like it cooked very rare,” she added.

  “Okay, okay,” the cook said, waving her off. “Everyone’s a comedian.”

  She turned back to Varik.

  He was chuckling again.

  Stupid fae bounty hunter. Stupid, gorgeous, disarmingly charming, fae bounty hunter.

  By the time she got back to him with his meal, Cressida was seating a family at the table next to his. The husband and wife sat across from a small boy and girl.

  “Hello,” Willow said to them before she could lose her nerve. “What can I bring you to drink?”

  She wrote down the choices, and scurried off to get their drinks, feeling like she was in control. At least a little.

  By the time she got back, another family was sitting in her section.

  She hurriedly gave the first family their drinks and headed to the second for their drink order.

  Before she had finished writing it down, the little girl from the first table was crying.

  She dashed over.

  “She grabbed my coffee and it was hot on her hand,” the mother said apologetically.

  “Oh dear,” Willow said. “Just a moment.”

  She dashed back to the counter, where Cressida wordlessly handed her a bowl of ice and a small box of juice. Ashe grabbed them and headed back to the table.

  “Here you go, lass,” she told the girl, offering her the bowl of ice.

  The little girl smiled and plunged her hand into the ice, sending chunks of it flying across the table to her brother’s delight.

  “Can she have this?” Willow asked the mother, showing her the packet of juice.

  The mother smiled and nodded.

  Willow handed it over. “I’ll be back to take your order in a moment,” she told them.

  She scurried back to the other family and caught Varik studying her appraisingly on her way.

  He was so odd.

  A few hours later, she was exhausted, sticky, and exhilarated, with a small wad of green bills and jingling coins in her apron.

  She had thought being a serving girl was easy, but now she knew better. Ashe had never worked so hard in her life. But it was all worth it to see people smile when she did what she could to make their meal special.

  “Go home, Willow,” Cressida called to her from the counter.

  She nodded to her boss, feeling relieved. She had stepped in to help Ashe more times than she could count, and probably a few times that she had been too busy to notice. Cressida had been sullen about it every time, and had even made some chastising comments about her overall value, both as a serving girl and a human being. But then she had been right there to help when Ashe needed it again.

  “So what do you think of the mortal realm now?” Varik murmured as she walked past his table to return her apron.

  He’d stayed the whole time, which
had earned him some looks from Cressida, but had also lessened Ashe’s workload by occupying one of her tables.

  It only then dawned on her that less work translated to less money. No wonder he’d gotten dirty looks.

  He didn’t seem to mind.

  “This was hard,” she said. “But they’re very forgiving here.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, looking annoyed.

  “I brought that guy the wrong drink,” she whispered, eyeing a man who was leaving with his family. “And he said it was okay. In the Winter Court if something went wrong like that, someone would be in real trouble. One time the kitchen boy brought my father a hard-boiled egg instead of soft boiled and he was fired—”

  “He’s a king, Ashe, that’s different,” Varik said.

  “He was fired out of the catapult, into the lake,” Ashe said.

  Varik closed his mouth and pressed his lips together.

  “My feet hurt,” Ashe said gamely. “But this was fine.”

  Surely, being a serving girl would get easier as she got used to it. And it paid out right away. Though she had not yet mastered the use of mortal coin, it would hopefully be enough to purchase food and to pay her landlord.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said, smiling. “You worked hard. I’ll take you to do something fun now.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I have something planned.”

  He cocked an eyebrow that made her stomach do funny things.

  “Well, Willow has something planned,” she amended.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s in her phone,” Ashe said, proud to have mastered the mortal tech term. “I’ll show you when I get my bag.”

  He nodded slowly, and she wasn’t sure if he was eyeing her in appreciation or if he was scheming against her.

  Don’t trust him, she reminded herself. He only wants you to go back so he can claim his prize.

  But he had helped her today. It didn’t make sense, but it was true.

  She found herself thinking again about the electric desire she had felt when he touched her hand.

  Maybe he felt it, too…

  6

  Ashe

  Ashe stood outside with Varik, leaning over her phone.

  She had managed to pull up the calendar like Cressida showed her to confirm her plans. Now they just had to figure out how to get to the community center.