His Fairy Share

by Meghan Maslow

  “Time to rumble,” Twig joked. At least I thought he joked. One could never be sure with a dragon.

  We were just steps from the guards before they moved. They grasped the textured iron-wood door handles and tugged the doors open, their gazes locked on Twig as though he was the only threat in the hallway. More fools they.

  A middle-aged witch with a deeply lined face stood inside the entryway, her robes billowing around her in the still air. Seemed someone enjoyed a bit of drama with her job.

  “Wizard Quinn of the house of Broomsparkle,” she announced, her voice carrying. She didn’t bother announcing Twig or Cora. Apparently, only I mattered to the witches’ council. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it pissed me off even more.

  The room had been abuzz before we entered, and the noise picked up in volume until we could barely hear ourselves think. Just as quickly, a sudden hush fell.

  We’d entered a ballroom right out of one of my grandmother’s beloved fairy tales. I once dreamed of a room like this—shimmery lavender gedodrite chandeliers, velvety purple walls, and a formal dance floor polished to a high sheen shot through with gold filament—and finding my princess, or more often, my prince. And in these daydreams there might have been fierce battles against hungry dragons.

  I don’t think it occurred to either me or my grandmother I’d run off with the handsome dragon when given the chance. Which is why fairy tales were ridiculous.

  And this room even more so. The Elder taught me that appearances were deceiving. This room might as well serve as a coliseum. Far more apt. Throw in weapons and an angry manticore or two. Even in the silence, I could practically hear the chant for blood. Ours, preferably.

  We stood at the top of a landing overlooking the large space, so everyone could stare their fill. I should have felt like royalty, but annoyance won out. They hadn’t even given us time to get settled in our quarters or to clean up. More insults. Like they couldn’t be bothered with our comfort.

  Plush gold carpet covered the landing and continued down the steps, leading to an alcove reserved for the Council and their entourage.

  Twig rested a hand on my lower back, lending me his courage. I smiled up at him, before holding my hand out in an obvious invitation to link his fingers with mine. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he grasped my wrist, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss.

  A collective gasp went through the crowd. We’d certainly given the throng a dash of excitement.

  I contained my laugh. Barely.

  Twig gave me a lopsided smile. I sent warmth through our link so he’d know how much I appreciated his sense of humor. And forbearance.

  Cora cleared her throat and waved toward the alcove. She didn’t meet my eyes, though her lips turned up. So relieved adulthood hadn’t robbed her of her mischievous nature.

  We held our heads high as we ambled down the absurd gold carpet hand-in-hand. I kept focused on our destination, ignoring the gathering of two hundred or so witches, guards, and assistants collected in small groupings around the central dance floor. The Council of Divine Magic obviously enjoyed their spectacle and invited other prominent families to watch. Because that’s what this was. Spectacle.

  And yet not one rei came to greet us at the portal.

  A snub, while throwing circumstance and pomp into the mix, as though it should impress us. Three years ago, I would have been. Amazed, in fact.

  If I hadn’t spent so much time in the last six months with Twig’s father, I might not have understood the snub or the attempt to astonish us.

  No need to open our thoughts to know Twig understood the message as well.

  A group of five reis and their guards strode toward us as we neared the alcove. Each wore the color of their lineage, while also wearing a deep purple wolfsilk wrap to represent their position on the Council. The other reis remained seated within, watching with rapt attention.

  “The welcoming party has arrived,” Twig said under his breath.

  I grunted. About time.

  “Quinn Broomsparkle, it’s good you’ve come home.” A young, willowy witch with honey-brown, elaborately plaited hair smiled and placed her palms together in greeting. An enormous purple stone sparkled from a ring on her middle finger “May the Goddesses bless your house.”

  My hands instantly mirrored the greeting and I intoned, “And unto your house, as well.”

  I don’t know who found my actions more surprising, me or Twig. I grew up with these greetings, though I hadn’t used them in years. They still came naturally. Unsure how I felt about that.

  The young woman nodded, clearly satisfied. She couldn’t have been much older than me, even though she carried herself more like Twig’s dad. Her fine amethyst robes also spoke to her status. The High Rei, then. I knew she was youthful—I did read Auric’s notes—but I didn’t believe it until I saw her. She must be the youngest leader in, well, hundreds of years, at least.

  “I’m Helena Hallewell, and it’s a true pleasure. Dear Coraline has told me much about you.”

  I smiled, knowing it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m honored, High Rei Hallewell. This is Twig Starfig—my mate and a Lighthelm City Council Member. You may know his reputation better as High Councilor Auric Starfig’s favored son.” I tried not to choke when I said ‘favored.’ The fact Twig managed not to snort gave testament to his increasing political savvy. Anyway, best they understood who they were dealing with upfront.

  Twig grinned, all teeth, letting his fangs peek through. He’d tied his deep blue hair back at his nape, his garments pulled tight across his large, muscular frame. Yet, as always, his eyes drew my attention. A deep, fathomless blue that shone with so much love when he looked at me, I sometimes forgot to breathe.

  High Rei Hallewell frowned and the other witches gasped and exchanged round-eyed glances.

  “We had not heard of this. Starfig, you say?” The High Rei’s voice came out a little faint.

  Of course they’d reacted to the Starfig name. I could almost see Twig’s dad puffing out his chest. Twig’s irritation flooded through our link for a moment before receding.

  Another rei, older, though still young by the Council’s standards, with white-blond hair and lashes, stepped forward, her high-necked, shapeless gray robes rustling with every movement. Her eyes shone with fervor. I could already tell I wouldn’t like what she planned to say.

  “His parentage makes no difference, High Rei. He is a dragon. Yet he’s not properly restrained as agreed.” Her gaze settled on Cora, a promise of retribution in her cold eyes.

  Cora gripped my elbow, her fingers digging in, all but hiding behind me. “That’s Rei Le Torneau,” she whispered.

  “You gonna make me wear it?” Twig growled, drawing all eyes. “You’re welcome to try.”

  He would never admit it, but a deep well of chivalry made up his character. No surprise to me that he refocused the witch’s cruel intention on himself.

  “Agreed to by whom? I don’t recall agreeing to any such nonsense.” My voice could have frozen water. “As I recall, you requested I put in an appearance. I have done so. As you are also aware, I must have my familiar with me. If you would rather I return to the Elder, I am quite content to do so.”

  I might have even done Auric Starfig proud with my haughty tone. Oh, and I’d gladly offer more where that came from. None of the witches standing with the High Rei had been on the Council when they’d sold me. However, that didn’t absolve them from the Council’s actions. They might be new, but their families had sat on it for hundreds of years, so the decision still rested with their lineages.

  Several reis exchanged uneasy glances. Good. Let them worry.

  A plump fuchsia-haired rei, wearing flowing, pink silk pants and matching tunic instead of the ceremonial robes, gave me a not-so-subtle nod. Huh. Dissention in the Council ranks?

  “Rei Vosen,” Cora whispered in my ear. Her voice warmed noticeably as she said the name. As if she heard Cora, the rei’s gaze found Cora and became distinctly heated
. Interesting. But beside the point at the moment.

  “I don’t recall agreeing to that either, ladies,” Twig added. “I’d remember the part about a collar. Kinky, though not really my style.”

  Leave it to my dragon to go there. I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t laugh out loud at their scandalized expressions. A pin could have hit the dance floor and the sound would be deafening.

  Except for Rei Vosen, who slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes crinkling. The High Rei also didn’t act shocked, though hardly amused, either.

  “You were not given permission to speak,” Rei Le Torneau snarled. She pointed to a ballroom corner, where a series of large cages held various familiars. “You should be with the other animals.”

  Other animals? Oh, no, she didn’t.

  “Look here, you sorry excuse for a witch—” I began.

  “Eliphas, really!” Rei Vosen gasped, her cheeks burning bright red, making freckles stand out on her nose. “We should be honored he’s come home, and you’ve already insulted him!”

  High Rei Hallewell coughed. Loudly. “Eliphas, that’s enough. No reason to be rude. We . . . were under some misconceptions, Mister Broomsparkle. Plans must be adjusted accordingly.”

  “You think?” Twig raised my hand to his lips again and made sure to look at Le Torneau as he did it. He had impressive restraint at times, keeping hold of me as if he knew I’d pound that grimace off her face if given the chance.

  Instead, I snapped, “You disrespect my mate, Rei . . .what did you say your name was, again?”

  “Le Torneau,” Cora piped up helpfully from behind me, as if I hadn’t heard her the first time.

  “Le Torneau.” The name tasted rancid on my tongue. My nose wrinkled. “Of course.”

  Twig snorted.

  “What does that mean?” The rei narrowed her eyes, glowering.

  I, naturally, smiled. I never thought I’d appreciate Twig’s dad and his death by a thousand cuts approach.

  “Whatever you want it to.” I kept my tone butter-smooth. “You may, however, want to reconsider ever causing offense again. While Twig may be subject to the Cairnsdaught Accord, I am under no such obligation.”

  “This is an outrage—”

  “Eliphas,” Hallewell broke in, silencing her. She turned back to us. “Please, gentlemen, there’s been a profound misunderstanding and the Council would, of course, like to correct that oversight.”

  I tilted my head and tapped my lip like I needed to think about it. Truthfully, I wished to leave, yet we’d come here with several goals in mind and I should see at least some of them through.

  I glanced at Twig, nodding. He didn’t wink, though I’m certain he wanted to.

  “Meh, I guess we’d be amenable to that. Nothing better to do.” He sounded unenthusiastic, even turning his attention to examining his fingernails on his other hand. They’d transformed into claws.

  All eyes were on him now.

  He retracted his claws slowly, one at a time—big show off—giving the witches the best Starfig bored-face he could manage. “Besides, I’d hate to return to the Elder with a report of poor reception by the Council. My father holds grudges, you see. And being over a thousand years old, he’s unlikely to change now, is he? I mean, he’s held grudges against whole family lines.” He leaned toward the reis to whisper, “Going against my family never turns out well.”

  Twig hated invoking the Starfig name. Took pains not to do it. But sometimes when you held a mace, you used it to batter. Nature of the mace, after all.

  And I didn’t see the point of playing nice, if they didn’t.

  “Yes, well, Coraline, why don’t you show Mister Broomsparkle and Mister, I mean, CCM Starfig to the Ambassadorial Suite.” Hallewell turned back to us. “We arranged this little meet-and-greet, though it occurs to me that you both might like to freshen up. I’ll have your trunks brought to the room in short order. Then you’re welcome to join us back here to meet the rest of the Council.”

  “I don’t think so. We’ve had a tiring day and CCM Starfig needs to respond to some City Council business. Don’t you, sweetheart?” Lesson 146 from Auric Starfig’s unwritten rulebook—never let your opponent set the negotiation terms. Game on.

  “Indeed. Plus, I promised my dear sire that I’d check in with him. He worries so.”

  I choked on my laughter. I expected Twig to put a hand against his forehead and swoon. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  High Rei Hallewell exchanged glances with her small contingent of witches. Le Torneau obviously hated this plan, while the rest seemed more amenable. Which meant they really wanted something from us.

  High Rei’s smile came forced when she said, “Of course. We understand. Travel can be so tiring. It would be my honor if you’d join me and a few reis tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

  “We’d be happy to do so, High Rei. You might wish to think carefully about who you invite to our tête-à-tête.” I purposely didn’t look at Le Torneau. Twisting the blade a little.

  I seriously needed to send Twig’s dad a fruit basket when we returned home.

  6

  “Quinn, please . . .” Cora sighed, as Twig and I explored the Ambassadorial Suite. Pretty swanky. The rooms were all decorated in various shades of purple and silver, with an oversized divan in the large sitting room. There was also a round sleeping chamber with a bedframe that seemingly grew out from the wall and a bed even big enough for a half-dragon. The defining feature though, had to be the two large gedodrite pillars dividing the sitting and dining room. They looked like crystalline tree trunks with tendrils resembling branches spreading across the ceiling, and rootlike growths trailing along the floor. “Quinn . . .”

  I stopped my wandering and stood in front of her. I clasped her hands gently in my own. “Don’t worry about us, Cora. I’m not the same naïve kid you knew four years ago.”

  “I can see that.” She looked sad when she said it. “I hope we can find time to catch up. I mean, really catch up.”

  No reading between the lines necessary. I nodded. “I guess that’s fair. I want to hear about your life, too.”

  “My life’s boring. At least compared to yours.” She squeezed my hands.

  “I highly doubt that the mighty Coraline Ebonywood became respectable and dull.”

  She pursed her lips. “Well, not completely, at any rate.”

  “Besides, there are so many people I want the skinny on, and I know you’ll be able to tell all the juicy details.”

  “Are you saying I’m an inveterate gossip?” Her eyes widened. She didn’t pull off innocent well.

  “I would never. At least not where you could hear me.”

  She threw herself in my arms, causing me to stumble back a step. “I’m so glad you’re back, Quinn.”

  I hugged her tight.

  We stood there for a bit, my chin resting on the top of her head. I sensed Twig’s jealousy through our link. To give the big guy credit, he didn’t growl or glower.

  When we said our goodbyes, Twig actually smiled and didn’t shove her from the room.

  He closed the door behind her, then spun around. “What a hellafuck of horrific proportions.”

  “You have a way with words, dragon.”

  He grinned. “What I want is to have my way with you, wizard.”

  “What? Now? After all the intrigue? Don’t you want to discuss—”

  “Mmm, we can discuss . . . afterward.” He grabbed for me, but I dodged.

  I backed up, because I liked the predatory look he threw my way and sometimes I enjoyed the chase. By the way his eyes lit up, so did he.

  “Catch me if you can,” I said, as I sprinted behind the divan.

  He let out a bellow sounding more dragon than human, and stalked toward me. The divan’s heavy ironwood frame held shiny silver cushions with shimmering purple threads woven throughout. I waved at him from the other side.

  I should know better than to bait a dragon.

  Instead of trying to sp
rint around and catch me, he grabbed the offending furniture and tossed it aside like it weighed nothing.

  My jaw dropped. My libido, on the other hand, skyrocketed. That was . . . hawt. The sound of breaking glass followed, though I didn’t dare take my eyes off my horny dragon.

  I’m not ashamed to say that I squeaked when he dove for me. Only my quick reflexes saved me from being tackled to the floor. Instead, I scampered toward the dining room, laughing at my near capture. So good to blow off steam after today’s debacle.

  Twig growled and gave chase. The suite proved spacious, but not so large that I could avoid him for long. I darted behind a dining table also made of ironwood. Twig’s eyes narrowed as he approached.

  “I can throw the table as easily as the divan.” He smiled, his grin toothy.

  “The Council wouldn’t appreciate us trashing their suite.”

  He shrugged. “Eh, what can you expect from a savage dragon?”

  “I have high expectations, actually.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll exceed your expectations. Promise.” He puffed up, looking so, so smug.

  “Well, I don’t know—”

  Aaand there went the table. More crashing.

  We ignored it.

  I backed up to the wall. He moved with the lethal grace of an apex predator. Many made the mistake of thinking of dragons as lumbering, slow creatures. I could attest they were anything but. They moved more like cats. Very big ones.

  Twig didn’t run since he had me trapped. He approached like I was prey. I shivered. Purely in delight. I waited until he reached for me then flung myself sideways, trying to outmaneuver him.

  He wasn’t having it.

  Catching me around the waist, he hauled me up and slammed us against the wall, turning at the last second so he took the brunt of the impact. It still knocked the air from my lungs.