by Lish McBride
“How long did the episode last?” Ellery let go of Merit’s jaw and took off their wire spectacles, cleaning them on a handkerchief. The healer was slim hipped and willowy, and a stranger looking in would be forgiven for assuming that the charming dark-haired person was human.
Merit glanced over at the other occupant of the room, Kaiya, her mother’s concession to letting her daughter stay in the country estate without her. Unlike Ellery, Kaiya looked exactly like what she was—a young, Hanian fairyborn, more dangerous rogue than aristocrat. Her trousers, shirt, vest, and even the long fitted coat that was hung up in the front hall were all an unrelieved black. No patterns or accessories except for the fine silver shine of the buttons on the coat, which, when she wore it, hugged her torso tight but flared out at the hips. Silver glittered in her ears and from the thin hoop dangling from her septum, a small moonstone bead making up the bottom curve lying flat against her naturally tan skin. The sides of her head had been shorn close, the long, straight black hair remaining on top braided back into a fishtail.
“Three hours,” Kaiya said, her voice still holding the soft accents of her homeland. Concerned brown eyes met Ellery’s. “They’re getting longer.”
Ellery put their glasses back on carefully. “You don’t remember any of it?”
“No,” Merit said, her claws catching in her skirts. “Kaiya managed to lock me in the study.” Merit grimaced. “The door will have to be replaced.”
“It doesn’t matter, Merit. A door is easily replaced. You are not,” Kaiya said.
When Merit caught Ellery looking at her shaking hands, she clasped them together. Ellery already knew she was scared. One of the few things Merit could rely on was her mind, and it was betraying her.
Ellery dug through their leather satchel, extracted a stethoscope, and listened to Merit’s heart. Finally, they straightened, made a few notes in their journal, and put everything back into a worn leather travel bag. “Well, you’re fit as a fiddle, which is the good news.” They leaned back into their chair and sipped the coffee the maid had brought earlier, grimacing when they realized it had gone cold.
“Ellery,” Merit said when the healer didn’t continue. Though Ellery was a healer, they weren’t much older than Merit, and they’d become friends over the duration of her curse. “I need to hear the bad news, too.”
Ellery gave up on the coffee and set it aside. “Your curse is escalating, Merit. We knew it would.”
Merit frowned at the tray set on the table next to them. Coffee, tea, cakes, and dainty sandwiches she could pierce with one claw and eat like a regular barbarian. Her mother would hate that. Her mother wasn’t here. She stabbed the sandwich with a claw and brought it up to her mouth so she could nibble. Kaiya turned her head, trying and failing to hide her smile. The staff at the country house might adore Merit, but at the end of the day, her mother was the one who paid their wages. Which meant everyone had to behave as if Merit wasn’t a beast. She was a fairyborn lady and would act like it, table manners included.
“You need to tell your mother about your episodes.” Ellery crossed their legs, leaning their elbows on the armrests. Since they were at home, their shirtsleeves were rolled up, hat hanging on a hook by the door, though they still had their vest and pocket watch on.
Kaiya examined the food. “I love your country’s obsession with tiny sandwiches. They make me feel like a giant.” She popped one into her mouth, waiting until she swallowed before continuing. “I can tell you exactly what your mother is going to do—tut in sympathy, remind you that it’s your own fault, then present a list of suitors.”
Merit picked up Ellery’s coffee cup, dumping its cold contents into a nearby potted plant.
“I don’t think ferns like coffee,” Ellery pointed out.
Merit ignored the comment, using her tail to grasp the handle of the silver coffeepot so she could pour Ellery a fresh cup, freeing her hands to make herself a cup of tea at the same time. The curse had many downsides—delicate china teapots and dishes were hard to keep intact. She was a nightmare to keep clothed. Her claws caught on silk finery, and whether her mother liked it or not, allowances had to be made for her tail. Until now, there had been upsides, too. No one bullied a beast. When she growled, they listened. Before the curse? She’d been quiet, bookish, and plain. Oh, she’d always had someone to dance with at a ball. Her title guaranteed that. But no one wanted to listen to her, least of all her mother. No one wanted her for her. Which had left her foolishly open to the first boy who showed her attention. She ignored the stab of pain as she thought of Jasper before firmly closing the door on that particular regret. She couldn’t change the past; she could only try to learn from it.
At first her curse, while terrible, had also been a boon. The beast made her feel powerful. No one looked at her beautiful, regal mother and then clucked their tongue, wondering where Merit had gone wrong. Somehow being the beast had made her right for once in her life. Even her pushy mother had backed off and given her a little space. Only now . . . now it was falling apart.
“You think the episodes will become more frequent?”
“They already are.” Ellery set down their cup and took out a notebook, showing Merit the dates, times, and duration of the “episodes,” as they’d been calling them. “Your curse gives you until your next birthday—which is only six weeks away. You need to keep your tincture on hand until then. Manage your episodes until you can break the curse.”
Merit used her claw to take another sandwich. “Which means I need to marry.”
“Someone of your mother’s choosing,” Kaiya added with a grimace.
Merit bit the sandwich off her claw. “Or someone who truly loves me.”
“We love you,” Kaiya said, her brows furrowing. “But I suppose we don’t count. Do you need to love them back?”
“Godling Verity didn’t specify,” Merit said, “but I believe it was implied.”
Ellery’s grin was charmingly lopsided. “At least you have a loophole.”
“It’s not a loophole,” Merit chided, carefully stabbing sandwiches until one tipped each claw at the end of her furred hand, making Kaiya snort. “Not really. I mean, who could fall in love with a beast? And what are the odds I’d love him back?”
“Show them your sandwich-hands trick,” Kaiya said, grabbing one of the dainty cakes on the tray. “That would impress anyone.”
* * *
• • •
After tea, Merit donned her veil and took a carriage to the train station, Ellery and Kaiya at her side. Since her mother preferred to stay in the city when she could, Merit had been slowly taking over some of the business aspects of Cravan, managing them from their country home while her mother handled the rest from the city. They’d never been close, though Merit had tried. Before the curse, Lady Zarla had been frustrated by her daughter’s inability to follow exactly in her footsteps—a frustration Merit had shared. Her mother was elegant and fierce, and though Merit wished daily that she could be someone her mother was proud of, it didn’t stop her from looking up to her in awe. No one said no to Lady Zarla.
Until Merit had.
Then everything had collapsed. They now existed in a strangely fractured life. When they were together, conversation was polite, but the air around them boiled with everything left unsaid.
Despite all of this, there was one thing Merit did enjoy about the city, and that was the weekly gatherings she attended at a coffee shop called the Dented Crown, in an older section of Veritess. The streets were worn cobblestone, and though workers were starting to install mage light in the area, some of the older brick buildings were soot stained. The streets bustled with all kinds of people, the noise a blend of the clopping of horseshoes, the rumble of hacks, and the shouting of street vendors.
The Dented Crown boasted a dim room in the back built for meetings, and once a week she made the journey there. The coffeehouse w
as centrally located, which made it perfect for this particular group—fairyborn and human, their common denominator being their afflicted state. They’d tried hosting the meetings at the home of Glendon DeMarcos, since he was the founder of the group and Kaiya’s uncle. He was also the ambassador of Hane, which meant he had a lavish home, but it was a bit high in the instep for some, so they moved it to a place where everyone felt comfortable attending.
Merit stepped through the rear entrance, flipping back her veil as she did. Ellery had been given permission to listen in but didn’t participate. Instead the healer took a small table off to the side and waited there, available to anyone who had health-related questions. After the meeting, Ellery would dispense free vials of tincture to those who needed it. The healer had been helping Merit set up a program that provided free or heavily subsidized bloom for the cursed who couldn’t afford it. Caen’s bloom was a difficult plant to grow, sensitive and delicate, which meant it was expensive. Merit’s lands happened to have the perfect conditions, and her family had generations of experience with its cultivation. It wasn’t bragging to say that the Caen’s bloom grown by the Cravans was the best.
Though it had other uses, tincture of bloom was the most vital. Not every cursed person needed it, but for those who did, it was priceless. It wouldn’t make the curse go away, but for four precious hours, the physical effects disappeared. For Merit, that meant no horns, fangs, or lashing tail.
The Cravan barony was healthy financially, but even if it hadn’t been, Merit didn’t feel right making coin off of people who needed medicine and couldn’t afford it. After a long discussion with her mother, they came to an agreement—those who could pay did, and handsomely, covering the costs of those who couldn’t. No one would do without, not on their lands, where they could give the tincture directly to their people. Not outside their lands, either. The subsidized tincture was offered to heads of other baronies, making sure their poor had access to it . . . as long as that barony didn’t turn around and overcharge for the bloom they’d been given. If they were caught doing so, they got a single warning. A second time, and they were fined heavily. Merit wouldn’t withhold medicine, but they’d had to put something in place to keep unscrupulous barons from profiteering.
After Kaiya greeted her uncle, she took the seat across from Ellery, aiding the healer until Merit was ready to leave.
There were a lot of familiar faces at the long table, and Merit took a seat next to her friends Diadora and Willa Smythe. The girls were a study in contrasts. Diadora had the tipped ears and pearlescent brown skin of fairy ancestors who’d immigrated from the Ivani Islands. Tight brown ringlets haloed her head, framing an inviting face.
Willa had bobbed black hair with bangs cut straight across. She was several inches shorter than her sister, with the ivory skin and rounded human ears of her father. The stepsisters didn’t share a single drop of blood and couldn’t have cared less. Merit envied their relationship, though she loved having them as friends.
“It’s so good to see you both,” Merit said, carefully removing her hat and veil. “How are you faring?”
Diadora smiled warmly, her brown eyes lighting up. “We’re well, thank you.” As she spoke, two daisies and a small diamond fell from her lips and into her lap unheeded.
Willa rolled her eyes. “Yes, just peachy.” A thin emerald-green snake curled past her lips and dropped into her lap, followed by a toad. Willa calmly picked them up and took them to the nearest window, then released them. With a resigned look on her puckish face, she snatched a slate from under her seat and wrote out a message. The owner of the shop has complained that I’m creating a pest problem. She erased it after Merit finished reading, then took up her chalk again. I suggested the judicious use of mongooses. He declined. Writing takes so bloody long. She’d underlined the word bloody.
“Wilhelmina!” Diadora tutted, though she grinned at her sister. “You promised Papa to watch your tongue.” She squeezed her stepsister’s hand fondly. “The owner’s not a bad man. He must think of his other patrons.” A veritable bouquet fell from her mouth as she spoke, ending in a gladiolus, which brought on a sneeze.
What Papa doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Willa handed her a tissue.
Diadora grabbed the slate. How are you?
Merit wanted to answer with some variation of oh, I can’t complain. But she looked at her furred hands, clenching them in her lap. Fear clawed at her, and she pushed it down. “My curse is escalating. We knew it would. I kept putting it off—marrying. I guess I hoped for the impossible.”
You’re very lovable. Willa underlined her statement twice. It’s just that the majority of the men in your class are supercilious dunderheads. I’d rather be left naked in the Enchanted Forest than marry any of them.
Diadora’s laugh was a burst of flower petals, the heady fragrance momentarily overpowering the scent of roasted coffee. “I think there was a nicer way to put that, but I can’t argue with the sentiment.” She smiled fondly at her stepsister as she brushed more flowers onto the floor. “It’s also possible that our own experiences are coloring our vision a bit?”
Willa snorted and pointed at the word dunderheads.
The meeting filled up with all sorts. An older barmaid whose hand was stuck to a goose, a formerly frog prince and his fiancée, and even Willa’s own groom, Shem. He looked like a normal gawky twelve-year-old until he doffed his hat and you saw Everett, a very large toad. If Shem didn’t keep Everett fed, he would eat Shem, starting with his face. You would think this would make Shem hate Everett, but the groom took an oddly protective stance toward his squatter. The groom tipped his hat at Merit, and she smiled. Their curses varied, but all of them had something in common—they’d caught the attention of a godling. Merit often wondered what had caused the godlings to pick out the curses in this room. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what would make someone stick a woman’s hand to a goose or a giant carnivorous toad to someone’s head, but there had to be some twisted logic there.
Glendon took his seat at the front. When his daughter began suffering from a curse, he’d started hosting these meetings so she wouldn’t feel so alone. Even though her curse had been temporary, lasting only a few months, and she’d been cured for years now, he still ran the meetings. “Okay, would anyone like to share—”
“He wants his goose back,” the barmaid said, sniffing, her nose red. It took Merit a moment to figure out what she’d said—she was clearly from the eastern part of Veritess, as she had a tendency to drop her h’s and w’s, so it sounded like, “ ’E ’ants ’is goose back.” The barmaid looked fondly at the goose and sniffed again. Diadora handed her a handkerchief. “Thank you, milady. Awful kind.”
“You don’t want that?” Glendon asked gently.
“I wouldn’t mind,” the barmaid said. “Giving it back would break the curse, and I know it’s not my goose. I only took it ’cause the gentleman kicked it.” She blew her nose into the handkerchief. “But the godling didn’t see that part, did she? No, they only see what they want, those godlings, and what she saw was a human snatch a golden goose from a gentleman, so I’m the one that’s cursed. It ain’t right.” She sniffed. “I didn’t want the gold, I didn’t.” The last part was muttered almost to herself.
Glendon went to comfort her, only to snatch his hand back when the goose hissed at him.
“I can’t buy the goose,” the barmaid said. “And I won’t give it back to the likes of him.”
“You need to talk to our arbitrator,” Glendon said gently, stopping her before she interrupted. “Her fees are paid by a trust that’s specifically for this group. I know you see it as charity, but if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for the goose.”
“Oh, for fairy’s sake, it’s only a goose!” Tatiana interrupted. “I’ll buy you a dozen geese!”
Does Tatiana think golden geese grow on trees? Willa wrote on the slate.
/> Diadora took the chalk, adding, Yes, she probably does. Glendon shot them a look, and the sisters set down their chalk, both pretending they hadn’t been caught passing notes.
“Tatiana.” Glendon kept his voice carefully neutral when Merit knew he wanted to chide. “Please remember that the troubles discussed here are given equal weight.”
Tatiana fluttered her hands, dismissing his words. “Ranulf keeps moving the date of the wedding.” Her voice was huffy, her hands knotting in her skirts. “It’s humiliating.”
Ranulf, formerly cursed frog prince, scoffed. At thirty-five, his hair had only recently started to silver, giving him a rather stately look. “You’re making too much of it,” he said casually.
Tatiana’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve had to redo the invitations three times. The stationer practically cackles when my family comes in.”
Ranulf waved his hand. “It’s not like you can’t afford it.”
“That’s not the point.” Tatiana pushed the words through clenched teeth. Her eyes narrowed. “Is this because of the ‘incident’?”
Ranulf turned on her, all casual demeanor dropping, his face flushed. “You threw me against a wall!” Merit shared a glance with Willa, her eyes huge. Tatiana might have been a brat, but she was entertaining. Willa barely held her glee, and Diadora reprimanded them both with a look that said, Behave, though she was clearly barely containing her own smile.
Tatiana jutted her chin out stubbornly. “Are you still holding that against me? It broke the curse, did it not? That’s because of me.” She smacked her chest with one hand. “And if I went about it in a less than genteel manner—”
“A wall, Tatiana.”
“I am the daughter of two fairyborn lines, and I was supposed to share my pillow with a reptile? It was not to be borne!” She paused, her eyes going wide as she looked at Willa.
Willa shrugged. “You get used to it.” She carefully scooped up the black garter snakes that fell from her lips. Diadora glared at Tatiana, her mouth pinched. The sisters were very protective of each other, which was how Willa had ended up cursed to begin with.