Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

they were old friends. I don’t think he even knew he was doing it. His stance was upright, and he managed a faint, worried smile. Something was different.
    “Where’s Ellasbeth?”
    “Waiting for coffee,” he said, his green eyes meeting mine for a bare instant. “She doesn’t like Earl Grey.” His fixed smile grew even more stiff. “I’d have rather looked at the book out here, but do you mind coming in?” He looked at Jenks. “Both of you?”
    Immediately I stood. “Sure. No problem.”
    His smile was a shade forced, and he shook his head when I reached for the tray. “You can leave it.” His focus came to me, and he took a cookie before he turned back up the path. “Is that a new outfit? It looks nice on you.”
    Startled, I looked down at my black slacks and linen top. I’d spent almost an hour in my closet, trying to find something professional and casual that Ellasbeth couldn’t label “hooker.”
    “Ah, no, but thank you.”
    Still smiling, he gestured for me to go with him. “Ellasbeth woke up Ray when she came in, and now she won’t go down. She’s usually such a docile, biddable little girl, but she’s been fussy since . . . her sister is away.” He took a bite of cookie, mood introspective. “I never realized how she depended on Lucy to make her wishes known. She’s had to speak up more. I suppose that’s good.”
    The cookie I’d just eaten went tasteless. “Trent—”
    His head dropped, and my words cut off at his sudden stillness. “Ellasbeth has been very cooperative. Dropped her petition for Lucy. I think she wants to try to make this work again.”
    I froze, almost choking. Why is he telling me this? “Ah, that’s great!” I said, not looking at him as I spun to find my shoulder bag. “If you two get back together, then there won’t be any issues with Lucy at all, right?”
    Jenks took to the air, a sickening green dust sparkling from him. “What a little cat scrotum!” he said, and both Trent and I stared. From the bushes, three hissing laughs sounded and were shushed.
    “Jenks!” I admonished him, and he hovered, his hands on his hips and a disgusted expression on his face. “What is your problem?”
    “Nothin’.” Wings clattering, he flew between Trent and me, headed for the door, a bright silver sparkle falling to show his path.
    Okay, my first reaction had been not far from that of Jenks, but honestly, there was nothing between Trent and me, and never would be. If he could make it work with Ellasbeth, it wouldn’t be simply the girls who benefited, but an entire demographic of politically motivated elves. “Sorry,” I said as I fell into place beside Trent, our feet hitting the cobbles at the same time. “He just doesn’t like her.”
    Trent was silent, and I looked at him questioningly. “Right,” he said quickly, then ate that cookie he’d taken, but I wasn’t sure what was going through his mind, and that bothered me. Jenks had told me little of what happened when he and Trent stole Lucy from Ellasbeth, saying it was privileged information, but Trent clearly hadn’t appreciated having to steal his own child.
    “This is good, isn’t it?” I said, glancing back at the unappealing cold tea to see the fairies descending on it.
    Trent looked sideways at me. “Yes, of course it is. It would make everyone’s lives much easier.”
    Damn it, I couldn’t read the smile he was giving me, and the nerves suddenly started. What if that book was useless? What if Ellasbeth had brought it all this way, and I couldn’t figure it out? What if . . .
    We paused at the door and Trent punched in a code on the pad. It was too fast for me, but I was sure Jenks caught it. There was a heavy thunk of a lock shifting, and Trent nodded, easily moving the huge, perfectly balanced door. “I’m anxious to see what you make of the book she brought,” he said, and Jenks buzzed in ahead of us, ever curious. “I remember looking at the pictures when I was about ten. I don’t know where my mother got it. Probably stole it from Ellasbeth’s mom, seeing as she willed it back to her.”
    He chuckled, but I thought he might be serious as I followed him inside. The hallway was brightly lit and sported beautiful close-ups of orchids in the morning dew, but the air smelled stale after the rich scents of the garden.
    “You’re going to have to look at it in the girls’ closet,” he said as we started down the carpeted hallway, heading back to the great