Page 3 of Elves and Espresso

His brow furrowed as he looked down at me in confusion. “A what now?”

“What about that statement confuses you?”

He blinked. “All of it. What do you mean by a living fancy?”

“You know.” I rolled my eyes, still seated on the floor, preparing to utter the well-known phrase of Coven Haven, our little corner of Wylionis. “A living fancy. A fabled elf. A human of stature. A riddled self. A curious dwarf. A searching thimble. A conniving sable. A dagger so nimble…”

“Are…are those all words?”

Whoever this man was, he certainly wasn’t from around here. Who on earth couldn’t recognize the names of the eight races of Wylionis?

“Just what we need, a traveler.”

“Did you hit your head when you fell down?” He leaned over the counter, concern painting his face. “I could call for help. If you require assistance, that is.”

I grasped the edge above me, pulling myself up. With a glare, I shook off the remnants of humiliation and looked over the man before me. He was human, that was a fact. His hair was so black, it looked almost blue but carried hints of gray. His eyes could carry one away like a breeze that teased a feather. He was taller than I was, although that wasn’t saying much since nearly everyone was. And he wasn’t carrying bags, or really much of anything.

“Who are you?” My eyes narrowed. “And why are you here?”

“Aleixo.” He avoided my gaze before he cleared his throat. “I came to ask about that silver ball in the window. Why is it there? And aren’t you concerned someone will steal it?”

Chapter Three

“Hush!” I leapt over the counter and clamped my hand over his mouth. “Be quiet!”

With wide eyes, he slowly reached up and removed the hand. “Well, pardon me for asking and striking up a conversation.”

I looked around nervously, praying my father wasn’t lurking in the shadows. Or worse…my arrogant sisters with their fancy husbands. “Strike up a different conversation,” I whispered, “before you get us married off.”

His forehead crinkled with confusion, and I pressed my hand against it to smooth them out.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“I’m correcting your confusion and worry. It doesn’t do to crinkle one’s skin.”

He looked at me as though I was the odd one but didn’t move my hand, letting me iron out the wrinkles. “Is everyone here like this?”

“Like what?” I questioned, making sure to keep the same crinkles from appearing on my own skin. My hand dropped, and I picked up the broken press. There was no sense in rinsing it out when it wouldn’t be used again, so I dropped it into the rubbish bin and set to work wiping up the counter.

“Er…” Aleixo shifted from one foot to the next. “Wouldn’t you like to change?”

“Oh, of course.” The slimy sensation that inched down the inside of my sweater wasn’t a feeling I had forgotten, but it was a sensation I’d been distracted from. I swished a cloth over Aleixo’s face before completing a spin and discarded the dirty dress where the dirty aprons sat. The new dress wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing.

“Did you… Did you just change? Just like that?”

I blinked at him. “Of course. I couldn’t very well leave the espresso unattended.”

“What? Did you have a trick up your sleeve?” He leaned lower as though trying to see if something could be hidden on the counter behind me.

“A trick? No, no. Just a dress.”

“A…dress?” Aleixo questioned.

“Yes, that’s why there’s a streak of dirt still on it. Unfortunately, I got some coffee sludge in my sleeves.”

Completely dumbfounded, he was finally silent, though it didn’t last long—only for about two minutes, but it was the quietest the room had been since he walked in. “I need a moment.” He took a deep breath, and I turned my attention back to cleaning the counter and floor.

“Suit yourself.”