fox charm
“You don’t speak much, do you?”
Locke, here beside me for a while now, muses, tilting his head as he watches me.
I arch a brow. “I speak plenty.”
He hums, amused. “Just not to me, it seems.”
I don’t know what to make of him. He stands with an easy confidence, like he belongs wherever he chooses to be. There’s something inherently disarming about his presence, his voice, his expression, the way he looks at me.
“I suppose I just haven’t had the chance”
His lips twitch as if he finds my answer entertaining.
“A shame, truly. I pride myself on being of excellent company.”
I huff a quiet laugh despite myself.
“Are you?”
“Oh, undoubtedly”
he says smoothly, placing a hand over his chest in mock sincerity.
“I have the wit, the charm, the striking good looks—”
“You forgot humility” I point out dryly.
He grins, eyes glinting with something I can’t quite place.
“Ah, but humility is such an overrated quality for us pretty people, don’t you think?”
I shake my head, biting back a smile. He’s quite funny, I’ll give him that. But I’m still wary, still aware of what he is. Faeries are tricky, and Joaalk always told me that the charming ones are often the most dangerous.
Before I can respond, he glances toward my empty hands.
“Let me guess: you came here for another drink and now you’re stuck because you don’t know what it’s called?”
I stiffen slightly, surprised he’s guessed so easily.
“Lucky guess?”
“Not at all.”
His expression is all amusement, but there’s something knowing beneath it.
“I notice things.”
The way he says it, soft and smooth, makes it sound like both a compliment and a warning.
“Then maybe you can help me.”
I say, deciding to play along.
“Of course”
Locke replies, with the air of someone granting a great favor.
“But in return, you’ll owe me a conversation at least twice as long as this one.”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me.
“We’ll see about that”
He grins, as if I’ve given him exactly the answer he wanted, and signals to the bartender with a casual flick of his fingers.
“Then let’s start with your drink.”
The bartender, a tall sprite with silver hair and eyes like frost, appears almost instantly. Locke leans in slightly, his voice low as he gives the order.
I catch the words “honeyed citrus” and “human-safe” and I’m struck by how effortlessly he seems to navigate this world. It’s a reminder of how out of place I am here, how much I still don’t understand.
A moment later, a glass is placed in front of me, filled with a liquid the same color I’d been drinking earlier. I take a cautious sip, the sweetness balanced by a tang that lingers on my tongue. It’s as good as the other one.
“Satisfied?” he asks, his tone light but his gaze sharp.
“For now”
I say, setting the glass down.
“Thank you, but I still don’t think this means I owe you anything.”
He laughs, the sound warm and rich.
“Don't be like this, I’m merely being a gracious help”
“Gracious, huh?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what you call it?”
“I call it good manners”
he replies, his smile widening.
“But if you’d prefer to think of it as a calculated act of manipulation, I won’t stop you.”
I snort, shaking my head.
“At least you’re honest about it.”
“Honesty is one of my many virtues” he says, his tone teasing.
“Though I’m sure you’ll discover the others in due time.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I take another sip of my drink instead. What does it mean with that? Who said I'm even interested in discovering him?
Locke watches me, and for a moment, the noise of the party fades into the background. It’s just the two of us, standing at the bar, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being drawn into something I don’t fully understand.
“So, I'm curious” he says after a moment, breaking the silence
“what do you think of our little kingdom so far? It must be quite a change from wherever you came from.”
I arch a brow, unable to resist the opportunity to knock him down a peg.
“I was actually raised here” I say, my tone dry.
“So, no, not much of a change actually”
For a split second, Locke’s easy confidence falters. I feel a small, petty thrill at catching him off guard. His smile slips, just enough for me to notice, before he recovers with a laugh that sounds almost too smooth.
“Ah, my mistake”
he says, placing a hand over his heart in mock apology.
“I should have known better than to assume. You carry yourself like someone who hasn't been here all along, though I suppose that’s a compliment in itself.”
I narrow my eyes, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed.
“Is it?”
“Of course” he says smoothly, leaning in slightly.
“For someone who notices things, this one seems to have slipped your attention.”
my tone light but my gaze sharp.
He grins, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, perhaps, or maybe just amusement at being caught off guard.
“A fair blow. I’ll have to be more observant next time.”
“I’m sure you will”
I say dryly, taking another sip of my drink. The sweetness of it is almost enough to distract me from the way Locke is looking at me, like he's trying so hard to figure me out.
“In my defense”
he continues,
“you’re not like most humans who grew up here. There’s a certain… edge to you. A sharpness. It’s intriguing.”
I snort, shaking my head.
“Is that your way of saving face? Comparing me, a stranger, to other humans you know?”
“Perhaps” he admits, his smile widening.
“But it’s what I think. You’re not easily impressed, for what I saw so far, and you don’t play the games everyone else seems to enjoy. It’s refreshing.”
I don’t know what he means by that, so I deflect.
“Or maybe I’m just not very good at them.”
Locke laughs, the sound warm and rich.
“Oh, I doubt that. I think you’re better at them than you let on. You just prefer to keep your cards close to your chest.”
I glance at him, surprised by the observation. There’s something unsettling about how easily he seems to read me, even if he’s not entirely right.
“Maybe” I say cautiously.
“Or maybe I just don’t like losing, and that’s why I never even start to play.”
“A wise strategy”
he says, his tone light but his gaze sharp.
“But sometimes, you have to take a risk to win.”
I glance at him. Something in his tone sounds like he's not just saying it for the sake of it.
“Is that your philosophy?”
“One of many”
he replies, his smile turning almost mischievous.
“But I’d be happy to share the rest with you, if you’re interested.”
I shake my head, biting back a smile.
“Thank you but I think I’ll pass.”
“Your loss”
he says, though there’s no real disappointment in his voice.
“But the offer stands, should you change your mind.”
I don’t respond, instead turning my attention back to my drink. Locke watches me for a moment, before he straightens and gestures toward the crowd.
“Well, I should let you get back. But don’t be a stranger, Lilia Doerve. I’d hate to think I’ve made a bad impression.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I say, though my tone is carefully neutral.
He grins, as if he’s won some small victory, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd with the same easy confidence he arrived with. There’s something about Locke that’s hard to pin down, something that makes me feel like I’m always one step behind. But I have to admit he intrigued me.
I weave through the crowd through the external portico leading to the main hall, drink in hand, my mind still replaying our conversation. His words had been easy, his laughter even easier, like he already knew how to shape the moment before I had a chance to react. It unsettles me a little.
I take a sip, letting the burn settle in my throat, when a voice cuts through the noise.
“Oh, well. Look who just joined me”
I turn to see Cardan leaning against a nearby column, cup dangling lazily from his fingers, watching me with an expression I can’t quite pin down. His dark hair falls into his eyes, and his lips curve into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his gaze.
“Your Highness” I say, keeping my tone neutral
“Didn't expect you to be so surprised to see me, again.”
He pushes off the pillar and steps closer, his movements languid and deliberate.
“Can’t someone simply enjoy your company?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Since when do you enjoy my company?”
He laughs, though it sounds more like a scoff.
“Perhaps I’m feeling generous tonight.”
"Oh, I’m so honored by your generosity, your highness."
I say in mocking politeness, dipping into a shallow, exaggerated bow.
His smile widens, but there’s something sharp behind it.
"But a mere girl like me doesn’t deserve your caring attentions."
I continue, voice dripping with feigned gratitude.
"So I’ll have to excuse myself."
I turn to leave, to leave a conversation I'm not sure I can handle right now, but before I can take a step, his voice follows, smooth and deliberate.
"Strange."
I turn.
"What is?"
He gestures vaguely with his drink.
"You. Here. That."
His eyes flick toward the bar—where Locke had been standing only moments ago.
I frown. "I don’t see what’s strange about me getting a drink."
"Of course."
His lips curl slightly, like he finds that response amusing for some reason.
"And did you enjoy the conversation while you were at it?"
It’s such a simple question, but something about it feels… off. Why does he even care?
I hesitate before answering.
"Yes?"
Cardan makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, something like a laugh but softer, more thoughtful.
I narrow my eyes. "Why do you care?"
"I do find it interesting." he says, too quickly
"Interesting how?"
"He is very good at that. Talking. And he…"
He trails off, like he’s debating what to say next.
"Locke likes interesting things as well."
His tone isn't quite mocking, but it's not exactly a compliment either.
"And?" I press.
I exhale, already growing tired of whatever game this is.
"If you have something to say, just say it."
Cardan’s smirk deepens, but his voice turns quieter, almost thoughtful.
"The trouble with interesting things is that, eventually, you can get bored of it."
I narrow my eyes.
“You enjoy insulting me subtly, do you?”
"Maybe I do"
he says smoothly, tipping his glass toward me in mock salute.
I roll my eyes and take another sip of my drink.
"You also seem pretty updated about the things I do."
He grins at that, sharp and knowing.
"Can I not take an interest in the affairs of my acquaintances?"
"Acquaintance? That’s a generous term."
"Isn't it?" then, as if idly redirecting the conversation,
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
I blink. "What?"
"Your conversation with Locke."
I hesitate. He asked it twice now. "He seems nice, unlike you right now."
"Nice" he echoes, looking at me.
A chill runs through me, though I’m not sure why. Before I can find the words to respond, Cardan straightens, swirling his drink in his hand as if he’s already lost interest.
"Enjoy your drink, Lilia."
he says smoothly before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
I stand there for a moment, frowning.
This whole conversationa was… odd.
Then again, he is odd.