Leanansidhe breezed into the room, trailing smoke from her cigarette, and stood at the head of the table. “Come, darlings,” she called, beckoning us with the back of her gloved hand. “You look famished. Sit. Eat. And please don’t be so rude as to think the food glamoured or enchanted. What kind of host do you think I am?” She sniffed, as though the very thought annoyed her, and looked away into the shadows. “Excuse me,” she called, as we cautiously moved toward the table. “Minions? I have guests, and you are making me look impolite. I will not be pleased if my reputation is soured, darlings.”
Movement in the shadows, muttering and low shuffles, as a group of little men edged into the light. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. They were redcaps, evil-eyed and shark-toothed, with their hats dipped in the blood of their victims, but they were also dressed in matching butler suits with pink bow ties. Sullen and scowling, they emerged from the darkness, glaring for all they were worth. Laugh and die, their eyes warned, but Puck took one look at them and started cracking up. The redcaps glared at him like they were going to bite his head off.
One of them caught sight of Ironhorse and let out a piercing hiss that sent all of them scrambling back. “Iron!” he screeched, baring his jagged fangs. “That’s one of them stinking Iron faeries! Kill it! Kill it now!”
Ironhorse roared, and Puck’s dagger flashed out, a devilish grin stretching his face at the thought of violence. The redcaps surged forward, snarling and gnashing their teeth, just as eager. I grabbed a silver knife from the table and held it ready as the redcaps lunged forward. One of them leaped onto the table, gathering his short legs under him to launch himself at us, fangs gleaming.
“That is enough!”
We froze. It was impossible not to. Even the redcap on the table locked up, then fell into a bowl of fruit salad.
Leanansidhe stood at the end of the table, glowering at us all. Her eyes glowed amber, her hair whipped away from her face, and the candelabra flames danced wildly. For a heart-stopping moment, she stood there, alien and terrifying. Then she sighed, smoothed back her hair and reached for her cigarette holder, taking a long drag. As she blew out the smoke, things returned to normal, including our ability to move, but no one, least of all the redcaps, had any aggressive thoughts left.
“Well?” she finally said, looking to the redcaps as if nothing had happened. “What are you minions standing about for? My seat isn’t going to move itself.”
The largest redcap, a burly fellow with a bone fishhook through his nose, shook himself and crept forward, pulling Leanansidhe’s chair away from the table. The others followed suit, looking like they’d rather beat us to death with our own arms, but wordlessly drew out our chairs. The one attending Ironhorse growled and bared his teeth at the Iron faery, then darted away as quickly as he could.
“I apologize for the minions,” Leanansidhe said when we were all seated. She touched her fingers to her temple, as if she had a headache. “It’s so hard to find good help these days, darlings. You have no idea.”
“I thought I recognized them,” Puck said, casually reaching for a pear near the center of the table. “Isn’t the leader Razor Dan, or something like that? Caused a bit of a stir during the Goblin Wars, when they tried selling information to both sides?”
“Nasty business, darling.” Leanansidhe snapped her fingers twice, and a brownie melted out of the darkness with a wine flute and a bottle, scrambling onto a stool to fill her glass. “Everyone knows you don’t cheat the goblin tribes if you know what’s good for you. Like poking a stick down an ant nest.” She sipped the wine the brownie poured her and sighed. “They came to me for asylum, after pissing off every goblin tribe in the wyldwood, so I put them to work. That’s the rule here, darling. You stay, you work.”
I glanced in the direction the redcaps left, feeling their hateful gaze staring out from the darkness. “But aren’t you afraid they’ll get mad and eat someone?”
“Not if they know what’s good for them, darling. And you’re not eating anything. Eat.” She gestured at the food, and I suddenly realized how hungry I was. I reached for a platter of tiny frosted cakes, too hungry to care about glamours or enchantments anymore. If I was munching on a toadstool or a grasshopper, so be it. Ignorance is bliss.