was going on with her, the people out at that table seemed to know more about it than she did.
Of course, they saw her as an enemy to Rosethorn Valley since she worked for the man who was tearing down the historic mansion.
But they were working to rid the cliffside of the monsters that were loose there.
That was also in Cullen Ward’s best interests.
If Miranda worked with them, she would really be helping her boss.
And maybe helping herself too, if they could help her understand her own ability to compel as Tabitha had put it.
There was a knock at the bathroom door.
“Come in,” Miranda said. There were two stalls in the room, she wasn’t entirely sure why anyone would knock.
“Hey,” Sara said, slipping inside with her.
“Oh, hi,” Miranda said.
“Listen, I know we all got off on the wrong foot,” Sara said. “But I think we have a lot of priorities in common. And I think we can help each other with some of it.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Miranda admitted.
“Maybe it’s a good idea to work together to capture the fachan,” Sara said. “Your, um, ability complements our group’s gifts. Just don’t take it too badly if we try to convince you to see things our way when it comes to the mansion.”
“I know I’m not going to change your mind,” Miranda said. “And I won’t try.”
“Sounds like a deal to me,” Sara said. “Friends for now?”
Miranda took the hand Sara offered and shook it. “Friends for now.”
Sara smiled.
“Hey, what’s with the tattoos?” Miranda asked, indicating Sara’s left hand.
“Oh, wow,” Sara said. “I guess that does seem weird. They’re magical. They appeared on our hands when I became Dorian’s queen. And the same thing happened for Tabitha and Tristan.”
“You’re…?” Miranda couldn’t finish the sentence.
“A fairy queen?” Sara offered. “Yeah. How weird is that? Who knew my second grade Halloween costume could accurately predict my future? I guess I’m just lucky I didn’t go as a zombie cheerleader that year.”
A startled laugh came out of Miranda’s lips.
Sara laughed too, and for a moment it felt like the beginning of a real friendship, not just a friendship for now. Miranda hadn’t met many people who were willing to just open up to her the way Sara just did.
They left the bathroom together and headed back to the table, where two waitresses were already depositing an improbably large amount of breakfast foods.
“Wow,” Miranda breathed.
“One thing to know when you hang out with these guys,” Sara confided. “They eat a lot.”
“My kind of people,” Miranda said, smiling.
She glanced over at Bron and was happy to notice there were no tattoos on his left hand.
He raised his eyebrows as if asking why she was looking at him.
She gave him a quick smile and then focused on her meal, hoping he hadn’t caught what she was looking for.
4
Bron
Bron stood on the soft carpet of Miranda’s hotel room.
After a hearty meal, she had asked to come back here and change before heading into the woods to deal with the fachan.
Bron had insisted on accompanying her. The others would meet them at the parking area.
“Almost ready,” Miranda called to him.
He hoped so.
Bron was most comfortable outdoors. Failing that, he preferred caves and cabins, and in a pinch, he was learning he could tolerate the basements and first floors of more modern structures.
In the fae realm, the jewel of his kingdom was his beautiful underground castle made up of round, cozy rooms with dim labyrinthine tunnels between them.
On the other hand, Miranda had described Tarker’s Hollow’s new Inn as bright and airy.
Bron appreciated the nature paintings in the lobby. But the fourth floor of a gigantic stone and mortar building, unsheltered by trees or mountains, was not a place where he liked spending time.
Miranda’s presence made it more bearable though.
She had stoked his lust again a moment ago, wandering from the bathroom to the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel, water droplets sliding down her delicious flesh. Her hair had been down, the wet locks cascading down her back like liquid fire.
“You know we’re just going back in the woods, right?” he’d barked out, turning away and trying to cover up the pang of passion he felt.
“I know,” she’d said. “I just want to be clean, even for a few minutes.”
He paced the soft carpet and peered out the giant windows into the darkness, hoping the fachan hated big buildings as much as he did.
She reentered, her hair pulled back in a tidy bun again, wearing bright