And then I remembered his eyes.
“You’re not human,” I choked, my hands frozen at my sides.
He still smiled the same kind smile. Still had the same wheezing chuckle.He shoved the cup into my hands, forcing me to grasp it to keep from spilling the steaming liquid over my lap.
“My mam was a faerie who gave up her wings,” he explained, taking a seat with a low groan, “and my Da a clurichan.”
"What about your wife? Was she—?”
He shook his head, a small sad smile on his thin lips. “My Nellie was as human as ye, refused entry into Tearmann by the Queen.”
The Phantom Queen ruled the Black Forest, a cursed stretch of land between Airren and Tearmann. Legends spoke of her ruthlessness toward humans. Hearing her name left goosebumps on my arms.
“So, we made our life here,” he said, scratching one pointed ear. “Usin’ this damn glamour is illegal, but ‘twas the only way to get honest work in this place. I’m trusting ye with my secret.”
I would never tell a soul—not even Keelynn. My sister, as fascinated as she may be, was also terrified of the creatures. It would kill Padraig to have her look at him differently. To have her treat him differently. As much as he cared for me, he loved my sister like she was his own. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I know it is, milady.” His mouth flattened. “Will ye trust me with yers?”
I clutched my teacup a little tighter. If Padraig already knew about Rían, I’d be a fool not to confide in him. Perhaps he knew of a way to get rid of the prince for good. I took a sip of my tea, steeling my nerves. “Rían—”
“Shhh! Shhh! Shhh!” He flicked his wrist, and the same heaviness that accompanied Rían permeated the air. “Sayin’ the bastard’s name will bring bad luck on yer head.”
Too late for that. “What did you do just then?” I flicked my wrist the way he had.
He held out a fist and knocked against what sounded like a hollow wall . . . but there was nothing there. “Made us a tost,” he said. “A soundproof barrier to keep yer secrets from unwanted ears. Vital when sayin’ things ye dinna want others to overhear.”
So that was it. Rían had been creating tosts.
“Go on. Ye can speak freely now.”
I told him about meeting Rían at the market—leaving out the bits with the dagger and the kissing. The dagger because, after Rían had helped me today, I figured I owed him. And the kissing because it was irrelevant.
“Now he claims that I’m the only one who can break his curse,” I finished, taking another sip of tea.
Padraig’s eyebrows came together. Leaning an elbow on the tabletop, he scratched at his chin. “Doesn’t make a lick of sense. Far as I know, the lad isn’t cursed.”
The lessons from my youth came flooding back. We had been taught not to trust the creatures, that they were all liars bent on tricking humans, luring us down dark paths.
Only I was no longer a child listening to tales with a child’s fear. I was a woman who had lived. Who’d had twenty years to make up my own mind. To learn that anyone could be evil just as anyone could be good.
Like Padraig. He was the best man I knew, and he wasn’t human.
And that poor grogoch, Charlie.
Rían, though . . .
Rían was exactly the type of creature they had warned us about.
“If he’s not cursed, then what does he really want from me?” He must want something if he kept coming around.
“I haven’t the foggiest.” Padraig scratched his whiskers. “That lad plays his cards close to the vest. Trusts no one. Torments humans and Danú alike. Makes no sense that he’d offer ye a lift back here.”
Danú. That sounded better than calling them “creatures.”
I explained about Rían threatening Keelynn and promising me the wish for helping him.
Padraig’s hand stilled on his cheek. “Put ‘im off fer as long as ye can. Whatever ye do, don’t agree to a bargain. If ye accept the wish, yer in his debt. And in his debt is a place no one should be.”