“Could you maybe… not do that?” I pleaded with the fairy as she zipped around the elephant pen.
I’m just an intern at Safari-Land Sanctuary and Tours, and arguing with pixies isn’t on my list of daily tasks—especially not when an important client is scheduled for a tour. I was finishing the
No flower could ever be prettier than Ederra. She stands underneath a kukka tree, rimmed by violet blossoms.
Stop staring, Zoran.
Hands sweating, I eye the buffet spread on the reception table. A plate of berry-topped taikinas makes my mouth water, but I’d rather not deal with cheek swelling and mouth burning today.
Nova curled her legs up and tucked her toes underneath her nightgown. Damp tears rolled down her face as she sat on her bed in the dark. The curtains were drawn, and the mirror was covered up, as always, but even that couldn’t blot out the reminder of her differentness, especially after today’s
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“Come now. You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, but I am. Your colleagues speak most highly of your collection, professor. I’m certain that a few quotes and some pictures would do wonders for my book.”
The old man eyed his visitor. She was pretty and young, with a hint of some exotic heritage
“What will you wear to Flower Fest, Trudy?”
Amelia, my best friend and fairy godmother, flew into the room so fast I sidestepped to keep her from crashing into me. She did that a lot. I had colorful bruises to prove it.
“What will I wear? Clothes. A dress since we still haven’t
“Do you know what color fae blood is?
Green, my son, naught but green—
So go now forth and slay their queen.
But beware, for she seeks her mate,
And only death can stop this fate.
For if she steals one of your kin,
Take her life to give the changeling back his.”
Had I recognized the emerald droplets for what they were, perhaps I wouldn’t have followed them.
You’d woken me, earlier than usual. Restless, kicking, and hungry for both of us. I’d grazed on a bowl of muesli as I sipped my mint tea, watching the dust bunnies dance in the bright January
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“Can you help me?”
Charles blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He was proud to be among the skeptics who placed fairies into the same category as little green men, ghosts, and the Man in the Moon.
Yet there she was, collapsed on the ground in the middle of the rose garden
I found him by accident as I stumbled through the forest, cloaked in shadows.
The child was crouched in a patch of light, bare feet dusty against the packed earth. He was feeding the crows. They hopped about him, nipping at his clothing, brushing his face with their wings. He laughed.
Laurva was hungry. So very hungry.
And alone.
Suffocating darkness encased her. She was completely sealed in. Instinct overruled her uncertainty, and the gloom diffused as she gnawed the walls.
Chomp. Chew. Gulp. Smack. Swallow. She emerged, surrounded by sickening sounds of others feeding.
I’m not alone. This awareness wasn’t comforting, but hunger drove her out.
“Psst. Lase, where are you?”
“Over here.”
Brande wandered between bookshelves. “Where? I see only books.”
“Yes, isn’t it amazing?” Lase appeared from behind a stack holding four musty tomes.
By the time she reached the age of fourteen, the rest of the faefolk knew that she would not get any stronger.
Such a shame, they’d whisper as she drifted through the square. She’ll never find a trade, they’d mutter as she meandered through the market. It must have been her mother, they declared, infrequently caring if she could hear them or not. Was her mother a windfolk? Probably not.
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