Page 53 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

“What did you do today?” Hedgewort asked.

“I tried not to get eaten by a grindylow,” she replied. And I did not set myself entirely on fire.

Hedgewort huffed at Lachlan, who had paused in the doorway. “Not that beastie again,” he said. “He threw a half-eaten fish at my head just last week.”

“What did you throw at him first?” Lachlan asked, knowingly.

“None of your business.” Hedgewort sniffed. “He tried to eat a toad. I liked that toad. Anyway, this is about Miss Cavendish and the honor of Elphame.”

“Honor, is it?”

“Certainly. What has she seen of it? An old house and a pond with teeth. Disgraceful. Have you at least seen the Frozen River? It sings at sunrise.”

Pippa shook her head.

Hedgewort frowned. “The Summer Woods?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“The Goblin Market? The Frost Stags?”

“No.” Pippa didn’t know why she felt the need to apologize, but he looked so disappointed. “I’m sorry?”

“You can’t come to Elphame and miss the Revels entirely,” Hedgewort said, sounding horrified. He glowered up at Lachlan, his bushy sideburns positively bristling with indignation. “You’re not going to let her molder here? Of all places?”

Pippa was not sure what he meant by that. Thorn Hall might be empty and silent, but it was still lovely in its own way. Eerie and unsettling, but not frightening.

“We shall start with a lovely supper,” Hedgewort announced. “In the grotto.”

“Prepare yourself,” Lachlan murmured. “Hedgewort has not had anyone to care for besides me for some time.”

Hedgewort had already bustled away, singing so beautifully that a trio of bluebirds landed at the nearest window to join him. Pippa frowned down the hall toward the kitchens. “That is rather a long distance to carry dishes,” she said. “Ought we not help him?”

“If you like. But he will weep on you and outright murder me.”

Pippa blinked.

“House hobs do not like to be helped,” Lachlan explained. “At least, Hedgewort doesn’t. I once tried to fetch an apple tart for myself when I was a lad and moved a pitcher of cream two inches to the left. He threw a teacup at my head.”

“Goodness.”

“And that was him being gentle. Even my mother woke to beetles in her bed more than once.”

“I shall leave him to it, then,” she said. “At least until I have found a good beetle-repelling spell.”

“A wise decision.”

“And I suppose I now know how to get the better of you. I shall simply tell Hedgewort you asked me to help him with the chores.”

“Threatening to have me murdered, are you, wisp?”

She should not enjoy teasing a dangerous Fae king quite so much.

But a girl must have a hobby.