His Fairy Share

by Meghan Maslow

  “I doubt that. They seem pretty pissed off that I’ve helped loosen the Alphae’s hold on the City Council and spread resources to other groups, especially the poor.” Twig’s voice radiated the pride he felt at that accomplishment.

  I felt proud of him, too. In the three months he’d been on the Council, he’d formed an alliance with the non-Alphae members and had convinced a moderate Alphae to side with them on several key issues. Real change was underway in Lighthelm.

  Now, if Twig’s dad would only do the same on the Elder High Council, but . . . Auric Starfig represented the epitome of everything Alphae.

  “Hate those guys.” Leo’s voice stayed low. “Not as much as Shroud of the Brotherhood. Still, MEAFers are becoming a nuisance.”

  “You have an aptitude for understatement, Agent,” I said.

  2

  Later that evening, I had just relaxed into our silk floor cushions after placing two bowls of homemade sun crab stew on our low dining room table, when a distinct pop echoed throughout the room.

  “Did you have to behead him in front of school children?” Twig’s father groused as he intruded on our date night with his two gargoyle bodyguards. Twig and I both startled, though we recovered quickly, returning to our evening meal after waving to the gargoyles.

  So much for our cozy dinner for two. Not that Auric would take the hint.

  “Would you have preferred that I let the MEAFer suck the lifeforce from them? Last time I checked, dead kiddos were also bad PR,” Twig said between chews. The dim light from the crackling fire made his features look severe, though his voice didn’t alter from its deep, even rumble. We’d been expecting the visit, and Auric Starfig’s disapproval remained predictable. Twig brushed off his father’s disappointment like it didn’t matter.

  Wished I could say the same. Auric’s criticism proved a constant thorn in my side. But my dragon didn’t need to know that.

  “I would have preferred you to handle it discreetly.” Auric stood only eight inches tall, yet every inch was ill-natured. His deep purple toga fell in perfectly pressed waves, a large High Council pin holding the cloth in place over his shoulder. A skin-tight kirtle under the toga provided his only nod to the cold. He’d artfully plaited his long silver hair and applied gems to highlight his fairy wings, which meant he’d come from a High Council social engagement.

  He fluttered his wings gracefully and landed next to Twig’s plate. Pacing the length of our table, he exuded disappointment from every pore.

  I tuned out the lecture, dipping fresh bread in my stew, the hearty combination perfect for a cold winter night. If I listened in, I’d only get mad on Twig’s behalf.

  “. . . get on with the mating ceremony,” Auric said, catching my attention.

  “Dad, we’ve talked about this.”

  They had. Numerous times. Auric was nothing if not persistent. Then again, so was Twig. I grabbed my mug of hot tremor delight and took a big swig, the warmth immediately diffusing throughout my body. Not enough alcohol in the Elder to blot out Auric’s annoying existence. Still, I could try.

  “You need to control your dragon, son. If you’d officially mated, you would have thought through your actions better.”

  “If I’d stopped to think, several City Council members, Quinn, and a handful of kids wouldn’t be here right now. I’d say my quick action saved the day. Besides, lay off about our situation. It will happen when we’re ready.”

  Our official mating, or lack thereof, had become an obsession with Twig’s dad.

  “Twig, if not for yourself, then for your . . . mate”—Auric wrinkled his nose—“you should do it. Give him some much needed respectability.”

  Nice jab at my former bed slave status. I barely even winced, instead plastering on a fake smile. I did that a lot around Twig’s dad. “You heard Twig. We’ll get around to it eventually.”

  I downed the rest of my mug in one go and considered reaching for Twig’s barely touched one.

  Twig’s eyes narrowed at his father, and a low growl rose in his chest. Reaching out, I patted his arm. He didn’t need to defend me. Besides, we were getting too good at the cycle of disapproval—insults—avoidance. Rinse, wash, repeat.

  I’d hoped Novus Greyclover—Auric’s sort-of-boyfriend—would mellow Twig’s dad, though truth-be-told, Auric seemed to grow worse with each passing day.

  “Anyway, I’ve organized reading material for you both. You’ll need to understand the Council of Divine Magic’s primitive organization to better exploit their weaknesses to your advantage.”

  “What makes you think we don’t already know?” After all, I’d grown up in the Hominus Realm, and the Council had ruled for centuries. Not like I didn’t learn about it in school.

  Auric looked down his nose at me. You would think a guy only eight inches tall couldn’t do that effectively to someone hovering at six feet, but you’d be wrong.

  He snapped his fingers and several scrolls appeared. “As I said, the Council is primitive. There are eleven members, called reis, and one high rei. Why they bother with a council when the High Rei speaks for them all is inefficient, and so very, very human.” His lip curled.

  “The Council has veto power if the High Rei’s legislation is unpopular.” It needed to be a two-thirds majority among the other members, though. So, he might have a small point, but I wouldn’t tell him I agreed with him. I usually played peacemaker. Unfortunately, he’d caught me on a bad day.

  He harrumphed, a sound he excelled at making. “You should call her a Queen and the Council her advisors. Primitive.”

  I ground my teeth together before saying, “The High Rei isn’t a hereditary position. She’s chosen from among the Council.”

  Auric waved dismissively. Also, a gesture we were used to seeing from him. “Might as well be. How many witch families have the potential to advance members to the Council? Fifteen at most.”

  Fourteen, last time I’d checked. Perhaps Twig’s dad’s information remained more current than mine.

  I coughed into my fist. It might have sounded like, “Alphae.” Twig made choking sounds across the table. Twig’s dad didn’t have any room to talk about ruling families. Alphae guild members held the majority of the Elder’s political positions at almost every level.

  Auric ignored me, which I was used to, but as I felt particularly snarky today, I added, “The Hominus system seems more efficient than having no identifiable leader.”

  As soon as I said it, I could have swallowed my tongue. In the Elder, while true that a caucus governed, no legislation passed through the High Council without Auric Starfig’s express say-so. For all intents and purposes, he ruled this world. Compared to his ruthlessness, any High Rei looked like a kitten.

  “As you say.” Twig’s dad smirked. “I bow to your greater political knowledge.”

  “We’ll take a look.” Twig rushed in before things escalated further. “Never hurts to have more information.”

  Auric patted Twig’s finger. “Now you’re talking like a Starfig. Perhaps you should do the negotiating with the Council. You want to make a proper impression, after all. One fitting of your station.”

  “Quinn can handle himself, Dad.” Irritability bled through Twig’s voice. I gave it two minutes tops before things blew up between them and the cycle started all over again.

  “Doubtful. You know not to let them test his magic, yes? No reason to give the Council any advantages. Also, he should use as little magic as possible. They’ll certainly be looking for clues to his abilities, such as they are.”

  “I’m right here.” I clanked my empty stein on the table to make my point. “I can speak for myself, thanks.”

  “I don’t doubt you can open your mouth. However, you’re not planning to wear that, I hope?” He pointed to my simple woolen tunic and leggings.

  My jaw hardened. I’d probably have a headache later from all the teeth grinding today.

  My wardrobe continued to be a favorite point of commentary. He knew we w
eren’t leaving until tomorrow, and he also knew I would wear more formal outfits when meeting with the Council of Divine Magic. He did it to needle me. Or more likely, Twig.

  “Dad—”

  “We’ve packed our clothes—”

  He again snapped his fingers, cutting us both off. Two piles of neatly folded clothing appeared on the table. He sniffed. “I can’t have you embarrassing the Starfig name so I took the liberty of providing you both with a suitable wardrobe. Since it will be summer there, the clothes are appropriately light, yet fitting of your station.”

  “Aww, Dad, you care.” Twig’s voice rang with sarcasm. Though, in reality, this was Auric’s emotionally-stunted way of showing that he cared. Naturally, it also proved to be self-serving. So, dual purpose. Win-win, as Twig would say.

  I didn’t need to look through the pile to know the clothes would be exquisite. Twig’s dad would make sure we represented well.

  I should be grateful, right?

  3

  “Look what the werecat dragged in.” I eyed Bill critically the next morning, crinkling my nose as he entered the living room, brushing fresh-fallen snow from his shoulders. I lit a stick of tinted citrine incense and fixed it in a stone holder. “You smell like an orgy.”

  Bill’s yellow polka-dotted bow tie sat askew, his glasses were fogged up, and his matching sweater vest hung from his broad frame. Even worse, a dull pink tinged his red-mottled skin. Our resident red fury demon was a mess. Had been for the last few months. Ever since his boyfriend, Dyknor, betrayed him and tried to kill Twig, me, and Twig’s dad. If I were uncharitable, I’d say that I understood the desire to do the latter. To say Auric was difficult was like describing the ocean as a few drops of water.

  “A new acquaintance invited me to an afterparty with a herd of selkies. Don’t believe what anyone says about them. They’re animals.” Bill grinned, his three rows of teeth prominent.

  Twig glanced up from where he lounged on the pile of ruby and gold floor cushions and lush rugs that he preferred to furniture. For the last couple of hours he’d been reading over legislation he needed to sign off on for the Lighthelm City Council. Being a CCM required a lot of work. Especially when he planned to spend the next few weeks in the Hominus Realm with me.

  “They’re seal shifters, so yeah, I’d say they’re animals.” Twig humored Bill, yet I could tell he worried about Bill’s new habits as much as I did. He absently petted Cookie and the scads of other furballs that made our home their own. It looked like he sat in a giant pile of dust bunnies, their fur soft and glossy on their round little bodies.

  “Oh, so humorous, Boss.” Bill didn’t look amused. Little entertained the big guy these days.

  Twig set his scroll aside and leaned back into the nest of pillows, causing several furballs, squeaking in indignation, to roll off his lap. “Dare I ask where Pie is?”

  Pirate McPiratestein, or Pie for short, volunteered to tag along on Bill’s misadventures. Imagine that? A ghost pirate parrot that liked to drink, screw, and fight his way through Lighthelm. Wow, a real surprise.

  Bill blinked several times before it occurred to him to take off his glasses and wipe the fog from them. He used the end of his sweater vest before perching the frames back on his nose. “Ooh, that’s better.”

  “Bill, did you lose Pie again?” I asked. Pie wasn’t much of a chaperone, which is what our red fury needed these days. Bill grew increasingly reckless. Since Twig’s dad would like nothing better than to ban him from the Elder Realm permanently, he needed to watch himself.

  “Pie?” His large brow wrinkled as he processed this. “Ah, yes, Pie. He, ah, found some companions to bet a pretty dypari that they could, um, what’s that quaint expression? Drink him under the table. After the eighth one fell, I grew bored. A demon can only amuse himself with watching inebriated chaps pass out for so long. Especially when the selkies were so eager for a pleasurable time.”

  “So you have no idea where he’s off to?” Since Pie expected to travel to the Hominus Realm with us, this caused some concern.

  “I’m not his keeper.” He sniffed.

  Even after all these months, I hadn’t gotten used to watching an eight-foot-tall demon pout. Bill was, kindly put, a bit of a drama demon. He felt everything keenly. Perhaps too keenly. I understood, though when Twig and I came back from the Hominus, we planned, as my grandmother would say, to have a ‘coming to Goddesses talk.’ Enough was enough.

  He just needed to stay out of trouble until we returned. Easier said than done.

  “Why don’t you go sleep it off?” Twig went back to his scroll, but I could tell Bill’s antics annoyed him.

  “What a marvelous idea, Boss. Will you be absent when I awake? You know, since you won’t permit me to accompany you.”

  Definitely still pouting.

  “We’ve been over this, Bill,” Twig groused, keeping his eyes on the scroll. “The Hominus Realm doesn’t allow demons. They’d attack you on sight. I would think being surrounded by several hundred witches trying to banish you back to Notocrypta would be enough of a reason to stay home.”

  “They don’t permit dragons either, but you’re certainly going.”

  Petulant Bill was not easy to deal with. Another understatement. I kept dishing them out today.

  “Bill, come on. Twig’s my familiar. He’s bonded to me. That’s why he can go. Are you saying you want to be bonded to a witch? Because that’s the only way I can see you being granted entrance.”

  He sniffed. “No, thank you. Emotional and magical ties are a waste of time.”

  I gritted my teeth. You’d think killing, then eating your ex would be a great way to work through one’s anger. It didn’t seem to be the case with Bill.

  Burn me, I sounded like my blood-thirsty dragon. Since I hadn’t bothered to screen my thoughts, Twig’s lips turned up in a slight smile, though his attention remained on the scroll.

  My blood-thirsty wizard, his thought echoed in my mind, almost a satisfied purr.

  “Faugh, you two are doing it again, aren’t you? Your lovey-dovey communications are not appreciated.” Bill spun away and staggered off toward his room, banging into the walls as he went.

  Cookie, the leader of our furball snarl, chirped once. Several furballs rolled off the pillows and followed after Bill. At least he’d have cuddle buddies.

  “Thanks, Cookie.” I sighed. “Twig, what are we going to do about him?”

  Twig shrugged, setting the scroll aside and watching as I continued fluttering around the room, checking and rechecking our trunks.

  To say I felt nervous about returning home . . . no, not home, not anymore. Going back to where I was born and raised—that sounded better—was another understatement. Without Twig, I don’t think I’d be able to face the prospect. After all, the witches sold me to a demented unicorn into what amounted to sex slavery. And my loving family stood by and let them do it.

  Yeah, the Hominus didn’t qualify as home anymore. Twig had earned that honor. My half-dragon, half-fairy familiar held my heart, my soul, and my home now.

  “Come here, wizard.” He patted the pillows next to him. “Stop fussing. We’re packed. You need to let it go.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I muttered. Still, I followed his suggestion and sank down on the pillows, jostling the remaining furballs. He pulled me close, wrapping me in his arms. His large body and familiar scent soothed like nothing else could. Furballs crowded onto our laps, a cozy blanket of sorts. I could swear there were a few more since the last time I counted.

  After a moment, Twig released me and returned to his scrolls. My nerves came roaring back. So, I reviewed the packing list in my head again. Almost everything packed. I stiffened. “Burn me, I don’t remember where I placed my serpentine ruby. It’s not in my pouch.”

  Twig bought the ring after he’d accidentally smashed a similar piece during his first shift to his dragon form. Since zombies were about to devour us, I forgave him. He’d insisted on replacing it anyway
. This one had only a single magical charge, but would make the wearer invisible for a brief time. I’d yet to use it and didn’t have any plans to do so, but better prepared than not.

  Twig closed his eyes, took a deep sniff. “It’s in Bill’s room. In the carved chest by his bed.”

  Must be nice to magically find treasures. Dragons and their hoards. Of course, that’s what made him such a successful private investigator. Lose something precious? Leave it to a dragon to find it . . . for a price.

  “Now, about Bill. I don’t know what we can do. I’m getting tired of lecturing him on his recklessness. I’ve asked Tim to check in on him every so often while we’re gone.”

  “Tim doesn’t like Bill much.” My words came out muffled against his chest, but I didn’t pull away.

  “Not true. He just won’t give Bill’s advances the time of day. He’s the ideal griffin to look in on a red fury who’s acting out.”

  “Maybe we should cancel—”

  “Nice try, Quinn.” Twig tipped my chin back, his eyes soft. He only had to look at me like this and warmth spread through my chest and belly. “I know you’re scared, but we’ll get through this together. Bill will be fine. We’ll meet with the witches’ council and you can see your family. Or not. I’ll support you either way. Don’t give anyone power that’s yours, wizard. You get to control this. Not them. No matter what their missives say.”

  I frowned. Their missives. Not quite threats, although close enough. Why they thought I’d give a damn if they hurt my family I couldn’t imagine. Those people might be biologically related to me, but they weren’t my family.

  Not any longer.

  “Hey, quit. Steam’s about to pour from your ears.” Twig tightened his arms. “Besides, I thought you wanted to research whether a mate bond would destroy your magic?”

  “That’s true.” I grumbled. I guess Bill wasn’t the only one putting on the theatrics.

  And I did want to research the bond.

  Months ago, Bill and I ran across a single mention in a tome where a witch—whose bonded familiar seemed more like Twig and not one of the five simple animals most witches chose—mated with her familiar. It destroyed her magic.