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“Fine, I’ll do it.” The two of them release their breath with comical timing, and Roan knocks on the bar again, the approval in his eyes making my stomach squirm with hot anticipation.
“Good. Excellent. Good choice.”
Roan
Guilt niggles at myconscience, the sun beating down on my neck, as I survey Uncle Inigo’s run-down old cottage. I’ve really let this place get out of hand. He loved this place, we all had, but time and life just has a habit of passing you by.
Well, that’s my excuse anyway.
It’s definitely past time to deal with it. The small flower garden that had been his pride and joy is long since dead, completely overtaken with the same weeds running roughshod over the once gleaming gravel path to the tavern. The Black Stump itself has been in our family one way or another since it was built nearly seven hundred and fifty years ago.
Mum and Dad moved here to work at the tavern with Inigo when Dad ran into a rough patch. I was only a baby, so I grew up here from the start.
Inigo was a lot older than Mum and had never married himself. He’d been happy to have us come and show my parents the ropes. By the time they got here, he was happy to step back a little. When I was sixteen, Dad ended up getting a job back in Twin Heads doing booking for a small surveying company.I’d already fallen in love with the place, and Mauvy’d been here permanently by then, so I’d stayed on and learned how to run the place.
Unfortunately Inigo had fallen sick, something incredibly rare for a fae, and we’d lost him young. He’d only been seventy-six when he passed; it’d been devastating, like losing a parent. But he’d left me the place, and at eighteen, Mauvy and I took it over together. We’d been a solid team over the past fifteen years.
Rubbing at the hard lump in my chest, I survey the damage to the front exterior of the house. The cream stucco-like material clinging to the stone bricks is chipped in places, but otherwise just needs patching and some fresh paint. The exposed wooden framework, mainly just decoration, could do with a new coat of staining.
I continue my assessment, sweating in the afternoon sun, as I wait for Theo to join me. From the looks of things, the thatch needs replacing on the roof, which isn’t at all surprising. I’m not quite sure how we’re going to manage it, but at least three of the wooden shutters need to be rehung. All of them need a good sanding and paint, along with the window frames.
A flush of shame shoots through me over the state I let the house get into. It was such a charming house, pretty even, with a steeply pitched roof, dormer windows, patch worked with colourful glass and an arched front door hand carved with flowers and vines. Apparently my great-great-grandfather had carved it for the house. Now it is peeling and weatherworn.
A flower box my mum had tended is hanging at a precarious angle out of what was her bedroom window on the second floor. The whole thing looks so tired and bedraggled.
My face contorts in a grimace, and I kick the half rotted planter box next to the front door, spooking a little white mouse who scurries off toward the garden. At least I have a semi-decent excuse for that one going to waste. Mauvy and I were bothcursed with a black thumb, and none of the staff have ever been interested enough to get it started.
Finally, I spy Theo making his way out the back of the tavern, chatting to Seldon and Seff. Seldon waves them goodbye and heads back inside, but Seff sticks to Theo’s side as they make their way up the path, past the broken kitchen garden fence to the cottage.
The lump in my throat shifts, landing like a stone in my stomach as I watch them approach.
Just like last night when he’d wrapped himself around Theo, I want to rip Seff away from him and roar a little. Only a little. Just enough to maybe scare Seff into keeping his hands to himself for once.
Anxiety ripples under my skin, sending my already overheated nerves into hyper-drive. The possessive, domineering act really pisses Theo off, and I don’t want to step on his toes today, not when it feelsabsolutely vitalto have him working on Inigo’s cottage, to stamp himself there.
I tug at my black shirt, airing myself out a little. It might only be the middle of spring, but the sun is packing a punch today. Not that you can tell by Theo’s now-standard oversized jeans and sweater combo. He managed to find a pair of sneakers from somewhere, but they are obviously too big.
I make a mental note that maybe it is time to coax him on a day trip to Twin Heads with me to get some of his own clothes, rather than having to schlep about in Seldon’s cast offs.
Seff, true to his “suns out, guns out” life philosophy is in loose basketball shorts and an oversized singlet with massive arm holes cut out, basically making the top useless. His navy ball cap is tugged low on his brow, shielding his face from the sun as they amble up the path.
“Seff. You're joining us?” Subtle. Really subtle. Seff gives me a cheeky half grin and slaps my shoulder, obviously relishing inmy discomfort. It’s not that I don’t want him with us specifically—I mean, he literally works in construction. It’d probably be good to have him give the place a good once over, and we’re definitely going to need a hand here and there. But I am greedy for time with Theo, and he is horning into that time.
I attempt to rearrange my face into something welcoming and friendly, giving my horn a scratch. Seff’s shit-stirring wink lets me know that I’ve failed miserably, so I turn to Theo instead.
Probably not the best move as he’s now got his adorable upturned nose all scrunched up, his head tilted back to squint at the bird's nest in one of the upper floor window sills.
His freckles seem extra bright against the glow of his milky white skin in the sunlight. The sunlight looks good on him, though. Despite his pale, exhausted appearance, Theo strikes me as someone who is made for the sunlight. There is something about him that seems to glow with it.
“You ready to go have a look, brat?” A ginger curl slips out from behind his ear, and I clench my fist to refrain from reaching out to tuck it back when he turns to look at me, still incredibly unimpressed.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Seff and I scoff at the same time, stoking something competitive in me.
“Like I’d ever put you in danger,” I scoff, not bothering to hide my eye roll. “It’s a bit of a shit show, but it’s still sturdy.” Still, he cuts a look over to Seff who gives his own reassuring smile and nod. To cover my own shitty attitude and irritated huff, I turn from the both of them and shove the arched wooden door a little too forcefully.
There is the obvious sound of something scampering to safety somewhere in the house, and the grimy windows do a terrible job allowing the light in, but Seff and Theo follow me into the front room of the cottage. It was originally the main living room, but my grandfather and Inigo had built an extension on the backyears ago, and it had become more of a formal sitting area. Not that it had any furniture here, just built-in bookshelves flanking the hand-carved fireplace.
Carpentry had been a big hobby with my ancestors; the floral motif from the door was carried throughout the original sections of the house on the exposed beam archways, the cabinetry, and mantelpieces. Even the staircase bannister.
