“I’d like one pixie-sized pumpkin spice latte, please.” I flash a smile, though my voice still flutters like broken wings. “Oh, and extra whipped cream.”
The barista accepts my coins and scribbles my order—the same one my sister and I used to share, before she left for college.
Has Willow really only been gone for two months?
I lifted the sword—and set it back down. Pursing my lips, I glared at the weapon, then picked it up again.
The clanking of blades drifting in from the courtyard beckoned to me. Taunted me. I clutched the hilt between my palms.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I visualized the exercises my father had drilled into me.
Grandma always told me not to go into the forest alone. “Deep in the woods, where the trees are old as time, færies make their dwellings,” she would say. “And if you aren’t careful, they’ll snatch you and gobble you up!” That part always made me giggle when I was a kid.
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The harsh lights in the interrogation room stung my eyes as Detective Ironflutter smacked her police-issued wand against her palm and fluttered her wings to loom over me. “C’mon, Ivory. Just tell us where the fairy godmother’s wand is.”
I leaned back but forced my eyes to meet hers.
It was the day before Elle’s ball, and I was desperate. So I traveled with all haste to my cousin’s shoppe, Fiona’s Fabulous Footwear.
I know, I know. I’m Elle’s fairy godmother. I should have known how to make some simple slippers. But while I can create the most ornate carriages
“Help!”
The voice is desperate. Wild. It cuts through the screaming winds and lashing sheets of rain that pound you and the earth. You lift your lantern, peering into the blackness as you attempt to steady your pounding heart.
You see naught but the driven rain at first; even the ground is murky…
They said the Fairy Tale King had gone mad.
The courtiers, led by King Ludwig’s Uncle Luitpold, didn’t bother to contain their disgust anymore. They sneered when Ludwig passed, mocked him and his ideas. They whispered that his grandest creation, Neuschwanstein Castle, was nothing more than a showcase for his lunacy.
Ty watched his wife pause beneath the ferns, face tilted toward the leafy canopy above. After taking a selfie in front of Blarney Castle, Beth had been more interested in exploring the surrounding gardens than standing in line to kiss the Blarney Stone. After all, who knew how many people had kissed that rock?
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Huey, god of mischief, peeked over the floating platform’s edge. Below, the European countryside showed patches of various greenery.
“All this flying is making me sick,” Tema moaned.
He turned to his friend. Her face had grown pale.
She put her hands over her stomach. “I think you’re going to have to lead
It seemed odd that the daughter of Queen Titania considered an app her worst enemy, but throughout the centuries, this fae had never encountered a more devious opponent.
“Don’t be cross just because you don’t understand technology,” Wally, my human thrall—excuse me, he preferred the term flatmate—said. “You see—”
It was that time of year when Lancaster Manor’s garden was filled with all the colors and fragrances which have given English gardens their reputation. In the middle of the garden grew a large oak tree with branches that spread like welcoming arms. Nestled in these branches was Molly Lancaster, with her nose
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Never make a deal with a fae lord.
The old adage ran through my head as I approached the house of Lord Faron Beaugard—High Lord of the Forest Realm. The glamor—a façade—of the house rolled toward me in unending waves, but I wasn’t foolish enough to be sucked in. I scanned the sprawling mansion,
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