Bound to the Wild Fae (FORTUNE FAVORS THE FAE) by Tavia Lark EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Tavia Lark
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 6 MB
- Price: Free
Folly
Folly’s nerves build as he unfastens his eyepatch. He blinks, adjusting to
his full range of depth and peripheral vision. A glance behind him
reveals an ordinary, grubby alley. Nothing strange lurks in the
shadows.
Roland grunts next to him. “Don’t know why you bother. You look
weird with the patch, too.”
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Ducking his head, Folly tucks the patch away. His handful of iron nails
jingles in the same coat pocket. His threadbare brown coat, not his bright
performance robe. Folly hates drawing attention to himself, not that Roland
would understand. The eyepatch draws only fleeting glances. It’s strange,
but in a way people are used to.
People aren’t used to Folly’s left eye.
Roland shifts his weight. He’s an average man in most ways—average
height and weight, which makes him several inches taller than Folly. Not
obviously rich or poor. A middling brown beard. He likes a drink but
doesn’t overindulge. Remarkable only in his temperament.
Though perhaps the charm he uses on clients balances out the harshness
he reserves for his employees.
“Make sure you get a good look at things,” Roland continues. He
doesn’t need Folly’s input. “So you can give me a good description. Last
shop had two silver rose bracelets, and I had to buy both of them. We can’t
make a profit if we’re buying all this extra trash.”
Maybe if Roland didn’t make Folly so nervous every time, Folly would
do a better job. But Roland definitely doesn’t want that input, and Folly
feels too small and foolish to speak up.
Wrong move. “Are you listening to me?” Roland snaps.
“I’m sorry,” Folly says quickly. “I understand. I’ll give you a better
description.”
“Good man. We’re going to be rich, you and me.” Roland’s friendly slap
stings Folly’s shoulder. “Get going and stop your fucking worrying.”
Folly rocks with impact and takes off down the street. Roland always
says it like that—they’re going to be rich, both of them. But Roland owns
the whole troupe of charlatans, and Folly’s just the fortuneteller. All Folly’s
money goes towards his employment contract. He owes Roland for food,
his wagon, the clothes on his back, the tent he performs in. An ever-shifting
debt, and the math never quite adds up.
Maybe it would add up faster if Folly gave Roland what he really wants.
Half a block from the variety shop, Folly pauses to gather his nerves.
Crumbly gray brick supports his shoulder in a hopefully casual lean, while
tattered gold fringe waves tauntingly from the variety shop awning. It
wouldn’t do to linger right outside—the shopkeeper might think he was up
to no good. Or worse, she’d realize how nervous Folly is.
The eyepatch would make this easier. People get funny about the
eyepatch, sure. It’s still better than showing his left eye, all freakishly gold
next to his normal brown right eye. But Folly can’t wear the eyepatch if he
wants to find anything worthwhile today.
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