Grandmother Dearest

[Axel]

I’m hungry. I’ve been hungry since we arrived. But I remember what they say about drinking faerie wine and eating faerie food. That you can lose yourself to it. That you can lose yourself to Faerie.

Seeing the amber-stone ring on my hand, I realize I may already be lost. My grandmother was one of them. She always smelled of fresh-turned earth and bay laurel, never the patchouli smell of Evander. Wouldn’t she have smelled more repulsive if she had been Fae?

“She was our grandmother,” Conner reminds me. “She smelled like home.”