Tin (Faeries of Oz, #1)

by Candace Robinson

“Give the man a room, sweetmeat.” Tin froze at the familiar voice—one he blissfully hadn’t heard in years—and eyed the alcohol behind the bar. “What are you doing here, Lion?” “Good. You remember who I am,” he said with a chuckle. “Join me.” The last time Tin saw the bastard was at his hearing, when Lion was called as a witness against him. For all the courage Lion gained, it had only made him a fool. Tin ground his teeth together and turned to face the other fae. Lion was exactly as he remembered: coarse golden hair tied in a low ponytail, bronze skin, and piercing golden eyes. The tuft at the end of his tawny tail skimmed the floor beside his boots. A fur cloak wrapping around Lion’s broad shoulders made him appear even larger. But, no matter how much bigger Lion was, Tin was certain he wasn’t a threat. Lion had a heart, after all, even if it was darker than most, and that bloody organ made all creatures weak. “What are you doing out of the South?” Tin growled. Lion smirked arrogantly and flicked a look at the tavern girl, who let out a sharp gasp from behind the bar. “Another drink, if you wouldn’t mind, and one for my friend.” “I asked you a question.”