Hunted (Book One of the Forever Faire Series): A Fae Fantasy Romance Novel (5 page)

K
ayla woke
up at dawn the next morning to dress in her least-feminine outfit. Stable managers preferred capable over pretty. The jeans were stretched out and baggy but—truth be told—she’d also lost some weight. The stress of the last month was taking its toll. She wore a roomy flannel shirt over a t-shirt she tucked into the jeans. With any luck, she could avoid attracting Ryan’s attention and hopefully pass as a boy. That meant tightly pinning up her long, dark hair, and covering it with her father’s old Tampa Bay Rays hat. He used to tell her that the sunburst over the big R also stood for the luck of the Rowes.

“Hope it works this time, Dad,” she muttered as she walked out of the bathroom, and stopped as she saw Tara looking out of the window. “Anything wrong?”

“No.” Her sister turned around, making the pale blue floral dress she wore float around her calves. “You look nice. Is this okay?”

“Who are you?” Kayla joked, “and what did you do with my sister?” To her horror she saw big tears spill down Tara’s thin cheeks. “Hey, it’s great. We’re going to be fine. I promise.”

She went over and hugged her sister tightly.

Tara swallowed and swiped at her cheeks. “It’s just seeing you with Dad’s hat…I miss him.”

“Me, too,” Kayla said lowly, rubbing Tara’s back. She stood back and held Tara at arm’s length. “Donuts and coffee first. Then we go to the faire, apply for jobs, meet handsome, rich guys who shower us with money and take us off to live in mansions with servants and bathing-suit optional heated pools.”

“Let’s just get the jobs first,” Tara said in an oddly resigned tone.

Kayla decided not to fuss, and drove her sister over to the local donut shop, where she bought their breakfast. More flyers for the Forever Faire were on the counter.

“Have you ever been?” Kayla asked the cashier.

“Nope,” the girl said as she put the money in the register. “Not my thing.” She handed Kayla back some change. “But it’s not my brother’s either, and he got hired.”

Tara had taken her coffee to the cart with sugar and creamer. Out of the corner of her eye Kayla saw her listening.

“He got a job?” Kayla asked, pocketing the change.

“Oh, yeah,” the girl said. “I don’t think it’s hard. He got hired onto the ground crew last week. No big deal. He went to the red booth, or some such thing.”

On the way to the faire grounds Kayla went over their story with her sister.

“We’re locals who have come back after working in Florida for a few years. We’ll give him references if we have to, but don’t volunteer anything. Look him in the eye and smile when you talk to him.”

“I can’t smile and talk at the same time,” Tara grumbled.

“Then do that thing with your eyes you do when you want to get out of something,” Kayla said, and glanced at her. More incredulous than flirty, Tara’s eyelashes fluttered. Kayla nodded. “Like that.”

They parked in a big, snow-patched dirt lot outside the gates to the faire grounds, and climbed out to inspect the entrance. Medieval flags and banners hung from the top of an old brick wall on either side of the gates, which stood open. Beyond them a straw-strewn dirt path led back to rows of tents and stalls. Behind those was the lodge, some kind of small stadium, and larger tents. She could see some men rigging something in the distance, but none of them looked like Ryan or his guys.

Kayla breathed in, and smelled honey, ginger and almonds warming the cold air. Bushes crowded around the red booth the counter girl had mentioned, which was more like a little house. Kayla looked up to see smoke pouring from its small chimney, and glanced at Tara, who gave her a tight nod. When they walked up and knocked on the door, a short, white-bearded man with a bald head and a big belly opened it and peered out at them.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“To apply for jobs, sir,” Kayla said, using the deepest tone she could manage. “I’m…Evan,” she said, using her father’s name, “and this is my sister, Tara. We heard you were looking for a groom and a seamstress.”

The man squinted at both of them before opening the door wider and nodding his head toward the interior.

Inside, the booth was set up like an office, with a desk, several chairs and storage cabinets. Kayla noted the single rotary phone on the wall, which was the only device in the room. A dozen pair of boots were lined up next to the blazing fireplace, in the process of being cleaned.

“Sit down,” the man said, wiping his hands on a rag before trundling around the desk and dropping onto the stool. “I’m Lawrence, the crew handler.” He gave them both another long look. “You’ve a horse that kicks whenever anyone goes near his rear. How do you break him of it?”

Kayla raised her eyebrows at the quick start.

“Start him bareback with a long rope in a pen,” she said. “Train him to tolerate the touch of the rope on his hind-quarters first, and then work up to rope and saddle. Once he’s accepted that, you work him with your hands from front to back.”

“So you’re the groom.” His gaze shifted to Tara. “You have to make up a lady’s gown for the show. How much fabric will you need?”

“That depends on the lady and the style of the gown,” her sister said. “For a slim fitted gown, height plus hem plus a foot. A fuller gown needs twice or three times that, depending on the draping, sleeves and any overlays.”

He grunted and gestured toward her dress. “You made that?” When she nodded he sat back, and made a discreet motion with his hand, which sent twin flares of tiny red stars toward their faces. “Why do you want to work at the faire?”

“We need the jobs,” Kayla told him, trying not to look at the swath of red stars floating in front of her nose.

Tara, thankfully, couldn’t see them at all. “We also like the magic of the place,” she put in, keeping a straight face.

“You two’ll have precious little of that while you’re mucking out stalls, and stitching up split trousers,” Lawrence said as he took two forms from his desk. The red stars faded. “You’ll fill these out, but if you can start today you’re hired. You can live here while you work for us. We provide rooms at the lodge and meals with your pay.”

Kayla exchanged a look with Tara. “We have a room at the Silver Birch paid through next Thursday. We can move into the lodge on Friday.”

Lawrence gave her another narrow look before he nodded. “See to the forms, and then I’ll take you to your places.”

“
Y
ou’re trying
to hide from me? Really?”

Titan shuffled out of the shadows of his stall to glare at Kayla. She suspected the big stallion considered her nothing but an annoying interloper, and given a chance would try to scare her off. He was the lead stallion, after all.

“I know what you’re thinking, old man.” Kayla stepped into the stall and hung the bridle on a peg. “You should know that you can’t scare me off by pretending I’m invisible or giving me a well-placed nip. I’m here to stay, at least for the winter.”

The massive stallion snorted and chuffed the straw with his hooves.

Since being hired by Forever Faire last week Kayla had kept her time with Ryan’s big white stallion limited to strictly necessary care, mainly to avoid Ryan. With the first performance for the townspeople happening today, however, they’d have to come to an understanding.

“Come on, now. I’m not so bad.” She unlatched the door and stepped back. “And you’ve got, what, seventeen hundred pounds on me? You could squash me like a bug.”

Titan’s ears twitched as he bared his teeth and dipped his head.

“Yeah, you’re a tough guy.” Kayla stepped inside the stall and extended her hand, cookie on palm. “Riding across a field with that colossal tin-man on your back, another one coming at you with a lance in your face, you’ve got to be. I know I couldn’t do it.”

Titan chose to sniff rather than bite, and then lapped up the crescent-shaped cookie.

“Pretty good, right?” She leaned forward to whisper the rest. “Guess what? I’ve got more in my pocket for good boys.”

Hinges gave a rusty squeal as someone entered the barn. “Groomsman.” Heavy footsteps thudded across the packed dirt floor. “What’s his name…Rowe? Where are you, boy?”

Showtime,
Kayla thought as she patted Titan one last time before stepping out of the stall.

“Over here, sir.”

As Colm Longacre approached, an elongated shadow cut through the lattice of sunlight that streamed through the barn’s roof cracks. Like all the other Forever Faire performers he possessed ordinary features, but had a shorter, leaner frame. She’d heard everyone but his big buddies address him as sir, but when the other warriors didn’t think anyone was listening they called him by his full name. The constant rounds he made of the camp while checking the work being done suggested he was some sort of manager—or busybody.

The head of every horse in the barn appeared as the herd assessed the situation. Kayla felt a waft of Titan’s breath. The old rascal was probably enjoying this.

You want to see a real performance, pal, then now is the time to watch and learn.

Kayla couldn’t keep up the ruse about being a boy forever—especially now that they’d moved to the lodge. She’d accidentally spoken in her normal voice a couple times already. For the first time since she’d been hired, she took off the baseball cap, which let her hair spill onto her shoulders.

“Damn and be done,” Colm said and stopped. His sharp eyes caught a ray of light and turned to glittering copper. “You’re
the new groom?” Kayla let her smile answer him. “You’re a woman!”

He made it sound as if she’d sprouted fangs and a forked tongue.

“Last time I checked,” she told him. “Was there something you needed, sir?”

“We needed a bloody groom, not another damned female underfoot.” Colm’s expression darkened. “I’ve not seen you at the lodge. How did you get yourself hired?”

“I think I was the most experienced applicant. And I’m good with horses.” That was true enough, in the same sense that the winter could be called somewhat cool, and the night a little dark. “We just moved to the lodge yesterday.”

As Colm peered at her, Kayla openly returned the inspection. He looked like every other guy in the world, but she suspected underneath he was just as awesome as Ryan and the others. He kept up his disguise a little better, with his costume made meticulously from bronze shagreen and sage-colored linen. It fit him with glove-like perfection—possibly thanks to Tara.

Kayla noted the specks of soot on his hands and the manner in which he’d tied back his long black hair. That and the scent of wood smoke coming from his clothes suggested he’d come from building the fire in the gathering circle where the show’s meals were cooked. He probably could have set it alight simply by standing beside it. She’d seen enough to guess that all of Ryan’s men had some special talents.

“You’re too little to manage, surely,” he said. Though he frowned, he’d softened his tone.

It occurred to Kayla that he wasn’t being insulting. He was worried for her. And in that moment she liked him, which made it harder to put on a properly meek and pitiable expression.

“I’ve done this all my life,” she said. “We needed the jobs, sir.”

She grimaced as soon as she realized her slip of the tongue.

Colm picked right up on it, too. “We?”

“Mr. Lawrence hired my sister, Tara, to work as your new seamstress,” Kayla admitted.

“Did he now.” Colm glanced down the rows of stalls. “What are you lot looking at?”

One of the horses whickered, and the others responded in kind. Tough hide grazed Kayla’s cheek as Titan put his head over her shoulder, and she reached up to give him a pat and keep herself from smiling.

“Right.” Colm nodded to himself, and reached for a bridle on the wall. “Doubtless you’ve heard that we’re putting on a bout for the locals this afternoon. I’ll need Sampson and Titan in full gear on the field in an hour.”

At the sound of his name Titan jerked his head. The bridle fell off the hook into Colm’s waiting hand. He hung it back in place as if nothing had happened.

“You’ve been shown how to properly outfit them?” he asked.

Kayla perched her cap back on her head. “Yes, sir. How did you know that was going to fall off?”

“I’m used to the oversized nag’s tricks.” He stripped off a glove and deftly tapped a finger against her cheek. “Forget that now, lass.”

Kayla felt a tingle dance over her cheekbone, and assumed he was trying to make her forget the way Ryan had. With her best blank face she said, “Yes, sir.”

Colm gave her one final, measuring look. “Right, then. Get on with it.”

She went to work, but as soon as Colm left she slipped out the back door and hurried over to the big costume tent. Inside she found her sister eyeing a pattern, and cutting a length of wool into matching pieces.

“My cover’s blown, and Colm knows you’re my sister now. Brace yourself for an incoming interrogation.”

“I don’t have time for one,” Tara muttered around the plastic-headed pins in her mouth. “One of the townies thought it was a good idea to wash their peasant tunic costume and toss it in the dryer last night.”

Kayla saw the now-tiny tunic sitting on the table and winced. “Did they at least get you a sewing machine?”

“If you can call it that.” Her sister nodded toward an ancient-looking contraption on the side of her work table. “It works off a foot pedal. That I have to actually pedal, like a bike.”

Kayla made a sympathetic sound. “I’ve noticed the guys really hate technology. Maybe it messes with their magic.”

“They don’t have to use it. I do.” Tara finished her cutting and set aside her shears before she faced her sister. “I hate this place. These people are creepy. The whole Renfaire thing is lame. How much longer do we have to do this?”

Her sister had been itching to leave from the day they’d been hired, which perplexed Kayla. Since coming to the Forever Faire she’d never felt safer.

“Until I find out what kind of magic they’re using to fool everyone,” Kayla said. She reached out and touched her sister’s stiff shoulder. “We need to so we can protect ourselves, remember?”

“Those bikers haven’t shown up again,” Tara said, and stabbed a pin into the wool. “Maybe this time we lost them for good.”

“Or maybe they’ll show up as soon as we try to leave.” Kayla gestured around them. “At least here we’re protected.”

“From what? By what?” her sister demanded, throwing her arms up. “We still don’t know anything about them.”

“The show manager, Colm? He knew a bridle was going to fall before it did,” Kayla said, pacing to the tent entrance. “Everyone is too ordinary, haven’t you noticed that? Like they all don’t want to be noticed. And Wallace, the guy who runs the smithy? I watched him while he was working alone, and he didn’t see me. He waved his hand over a broken sword, and a bunch of little stars started floating over it.”

Tara gave her a suspicious look. “Right. Like metal never reflected anything.”

“After the stars disappeared, the sword wasn’t broken anymore,” Kayla said. “It looked brand new.”

Her sister wrapped her arms around herself. “What about Ryan? What can he do?”

“Aside from change a motorcycle into a horse? I don’t know yet. I’ve been kind of dodging him.” She rubbed her temple. “He never practices in any of the duels they do. No swords, no staffs, nothing. The rest of them do, so that’s a little weird.”

“He’s like the biggest guy here,” Tara pointed out. “Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Kayla sighed. “Look, kiddo, I have to go back and get the horses ready. Just, please be patient for a little longer. I’ll find what we need, I promise.”

“Sure.” Her sister sighed and sat down behind the ancient foot-pedal contraption. “Just add a real sewing machine to that list, will you?”