And did he even want to know?
He shrugged on his sweatshirt, suddenly chilled, then slipped the plastic toy into his pocket. It felt good to have a piece of his own world to carry around.
Pulling aside the crimson curtain, he stepped into the main room of the tent. Thomas sat at a table set along one wall, writing with a feather pen on what looked like parchment.
“Good day,” Thomas said.
“Is it?”
“An intriguing question.” Thomas set his pen down and nodded to an empty wicker chair. “Sit, and we will discuss it.”
Aran swung the chair around and sat backwards, resting his arms along the woven willow top. “We have a lot more than that to discuss.”
“Indeed. But it is a start. Tea?”
“Sure.”
Thomas picked up a green teapot and poured a stream of pale gold liquid into a matching cup. The steam swirling over the surface carried the scents that had woken Aran: cinnamon and mint. He took a careful sip, and the tea spread through his mouth, tasting like a perfect summer day.
“Cake?” Thomas pushed a deep blue plate filled with biscuit-like pastries toward him. “I will, however, caution you to eat no bite nor sip no sup outside the confines of these walls.”
The guy had the oddest way of talking, but Aran could follow him. More or less. He reached for one of the cakes.
“Why’s that?”
“Let us begin with your initial inquiry.” Thomas gave him a thoughtful look. “Is it, indeed, a good day? Firstly, whether goodness favors your mood is entirely up to you. And for the second part, it is not, in fact, day—a detail I commend you for noticing.”
“So, when does the sun come up? Does this place run on a super-extended clock or something?”
“In all the time you bide here it will never be day, for this is the Dark Court, where midnight and moonlight hold sway.”
Aran wrapped his hands around his teacup, trying to push away the chill brought on by Thomas’s words.
“I have a feeling I’m going to miss the sun,” he said.
Even though it was winter in the mortal world, at least the sun was there—a glowing ball of fire lurking behind the clouds. Endless night was going to get stale pretty quick.
“Of a certainty, you will long for the daylight,” Thomas said, his voice laced with old sorrow. “I do.”
“So, how’d you get here? And can you ever leave?”
The questions left a sour taste in Aran’s mouth, and he took another hasty drink of tea. Was he trapped here, like those tiny fairies in the lanterns, unable to escape?
Escape to what? a cynical voice inside him asked. No money, a useless attraction to a gamer girl, and every step overshadowed by the black cloud of a criminal record?
“Answers for answers,” Thomas said. “First, we need something to call you by.”
“My name’s Ar—”
“Stop.” Thomas held up his hand. “Names have power here. Is there a name—not your birth-given one—you go by in the mortal world?”
“BlackWing.”
It was somehow fitting to claim his hacker identity here. And it wasn’t like anyone would recognize it.
“Good.” Thomas lifted a cake from the plate. “Mortals who eat or drink in the Realm of Faerie are trapped here. Only the food I serve you is free of that binding enchantment.”
Aran studied his cake. He had no reason not to trust Thomas. With a shrug, he took a bite. It was honey-sweet and warm, as if freshly out of the oven. He finished the cake in three bites, then snagged another.
“Is that what happened to you?” he asked. “Ate something you shouldn’t have?”
“No.”
“Then you could go back, if you wanted?”
Thomas gave a low, weary sigh. “I cannot. There is nothing for me to return to. Tell me, why did the goblins bring you here, to the Dark Queen?”
Aran swallowed the last bite of cake, then took a sip of tea, buying time while he thought. There was plenty he didn’t want to say—and plenty he guessed Thomas wasn’t telling him, either.
“It sounds strange, but I met the goblin in a computer game.”
“Feyland, I suppose?” Something flashed across Thomas’s expression, a momentary easing of the anxious lines in his face.
“Yeah.” Aran narrowed his eyes. “How’d you know that?”
“Feyland and the Realm of Faerie are connected.”
“That’s just… tweaked.” Aran set his cup down and folded his arms along the back of the chair. Crazy as it was, though, the evidence was all around him. “Care to tell me how that happened?”
“Another time, perhaps. Your audience with the queen draws nigh. If I am to aid you, I must understand why you are here.”