His Fairy Share

by Meghan Maslow

  “The only disappointment be to not fight fer what be rightfully yours.” Pie’s head bobbed. “I’ll help ye reclaim what’s yours. The captain would expect no less.”

  Beckett reached out and ran a finger over Pie’s head. “That’s sweet, Pie. But if I’m right, we can send you on to your rest. I’m pretty sure I know what to do. Sounds like you’re long overdue to rejoin your captain.”

  Pie leaned into Beckett’s touch. I bit my tongue. This decision rested solely with Pie.

  “Miss Beckett, this old bird has waited a few centuries to find me rest. I can certainly wait a little longer. Though I do be curious why I be stuck here.”

  Beckett looked thoughtful. “I can’t be one hundred percent certain, though something Quinn said made me suspect that someone pinned your form to the present. It would have to be someone with magic or possibly a magical artifact.”

  “But Miss, the only crew member with something like that be the Captain. Just an old piece of bone with a little magic. I don’t even know if it could do what you said. And why would he do that to me? I be his most faithful companion. We be inseparable.”

  “Perhaps you weren’t the target? Could anyone have wanted to keep your Captain from crossing over?” Beckett asked.

  “Those scallywags!” Pie squawked. “I bet it be Salty Dobbs! That bilge rat, that swab, that—”

  “I’m simply guessing, Pie. We can’t know for sure.” Beckett stroked Pie, her head tilting. “Maybe a crew member thought they’d settle an old score and accidentally pinned you instead.”

  “I hope me captain made the traitor’s restin’ place a foul one. It hurts to know I be separated from him all these centuries because of betrayal. It makes the most sense. Don’t know why I didn’t see it afore now.” Pie clacked his beak like he’d take a piece out of the pirate if he could.

  Beckett continued her gentle petting. “If you want, we can try reversing the pinning spell. It’s difficult, not something that can be cast like a fireball. We’d need certain herbs, a sizable blast of magic, and a potion that would take at least two weeks to stew.”

  “What happens if it isn’t a pinning spell?” I asked. Could a non-witch cast such a spell with an artifact? Possibly, yes. Especially if the caster had a strong will and a stronger reason to direct the spell. Someone must have hated Captain Yardley with a fiery passion to harness that amount of power.

  Beckett shrugged. “Nothing. If there’s no spell in place, the reversal won’t do anything. That’s why we should try it. With your help, we could get started in the next day or so. I’d do it myself, but some of the ingredients are, well, out of my price range. I’ve heard that dragons keep hoards, so I’m assuming . . .”

  I raised a brow. “That expensive, huh?”

  Beckett nodded. “Not cheap.”

  “Mister Quinn, ye don’t have to—”

  “Pie, you’ve waited a long time for your rest. It’s the least I can do.”

  16

  We spent the next hour gathering notes on everything we’d need to perform the reversal. My grandmother taught me to love herbs and potions, but this would tax me to the limit. I’d have to visit my parents or buy from their competitors. My grandparents built that business, and my mom inherited their gift as a talented herbalist. She only did it for the income. My grandmother’s passion had somehow passed to me. I just wished I had my mother’s natural talent. I couldn’t ask for help without having to offer up more than I wanted to give.

  While Pie often perched on my or Twig’s shoulder, today he’d settled on Beckett’s. He leaned against her, his one eye almost closed. Her link to Yardley must be soothing if his low whistling meant anything. Beckett reached up to stroke him every few minutes. Maybe he also comforted her.

  Unexpectedly, Trash Panda woke and climbed onto Beckett’s other shoulder.

  “And who might ye be?” Pie leaned around Beckett to get a better look at Beckett’s familiar. Trash Panda bared her dulled teeth before shoving Pie from Beckett’s shoulder.

  “TP!” Beckett sounded scandalized.

  I shouldn’t laugh, but I couldn’t help myself. “Geez, Pie, someone’s jealous.”

  Pie squawked indignantly and settled on my shoulder. He glared balefully at the ancient raccoon. “I’d make ye walk the plank if we be onboard a ship.”

  Trash Panda hissed. Jealous little thing.

  Pie and Beckett’s familiar continued to glare at each other until Beckett asked Pie another question about Yardley or his ship or his crew. Pie would become animated and spin yarns. I’d heard many of them before, though some were new even to me.

  An hour passed and she looked up from a scroll she’d been reading. “You know, Quinn, I haven’t forgotten your dilemma, either.” Beckett let out a big yawn. “After doing more research last night, it seems the accepted wisdom is that when Keeling’s magic and her familiar’s collided during mating, it destroyed hers. Why did it destroy hers, yet not Lynede’s? Then I got it. They have two different magicks, right? A were creature is born with theirs, while witches—and wizards—access magic from our surroundings, channeling it through the link with our familiar.”

  I reached over and squeezed her hand before releasing it. “I haven’t had any other witches to talk to, so this is helpful.”

  “Okay, good.” She smiled. “So—and correct me if you think I’m wrong—I picture it like a knife severing a cord. Only in this case, it destroyed the cord. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe Keeling could have bonded with a different familiar and retrieved her magic. Then she would be mated with Lynede, though with a separate familiar.”

  Another familiar? Ugh. I hated that idea. So would Twig. Choosing another couldn’t end well for anyone. “Do you think that would require me taking another dragon as my familiar? It’s not like I matched with any of the traditional familiars.”

  Another dragon? Twig would tear them apart. No way a mated dragon would share me with another dragon. This became more and more complicated.

  “I don’t know.” Beckett tapped her lower lip with a finger. “I assume so, though we don’t even know if bonding with another familiar is possible. I’ve been tracking down some obscure references but Quinn, I suspect the Council of the day wanted to bury this incident. You’d think the very question would produce a ton of papers and other thought pieces. Yet I haven’t found much. Only their conclusion in Unodarin’s Compendium.”

  “Why would they cover it up?”

  “There are lots of things the Council chooses to bury or ignore. Maybe because they don’t like things that rock the boat.”

  “According to Rei Le Torneau, I rock the boat.”

  Beckett’s nose wrinkled. “No surprise there. The Courvoisier are a waste of good witch material. I went to school with Le Torneau’s younger half-sister. A total embarrassment to the family, so they hid her with us ‘second class’ witches. Not that you’d know it from meeting her. Lots of privilege, not a lot of common sense. Powerful, but in the way a cudgel is, you know? Magic, like sword craft, takes finesse if you want to live to fight another day.”

  “Truth.”

  “Besides, your raw power probably intimidates Le Torneau.”

  “I haven’t allowed them to retest me. They have no clue how strong or weak I am.”

  “But you have an idea?” She tapped a finger on the table.

  Wary now, I said, “I can guess, but I can’t be sure.”

  She continued to tap her finger. “Promise you won’t be mad.”

  I leaned away, my hackles raised. “Depends. Why?”

  “You know how I told you I’m a freak?”

  “Mmhmm.” Where was she going with this?

  “Not only am I a witch and a pirate, but I can read the strength of witches’ magic when I touch them.” She held up a hand to forestall my outburst. “I haven’t told anyone, and I never let my teachers know. What a nightmare that would be. They’d press me into service in a hot minute and I wouldn’t have any say. Not everyone would appreci
ate my power either. Anyway, I’m only telling you because I believe you’ll keep my secret. You’re a strong wizard. Stronger than Le Torneau. Though not by much. You aren’t the strongest magic user I’ve ever felt, but you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

  “That’s . . . quite a talent.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t ask for any of it. I can’t help it. If I touch someone I simply know.”

  “I’ll keep your secret, if you keep mine.”

  Beckett knocked our shoulders together, accidentally waking Pie. “You’re okay, Quinn Broomsparkle. Nothing like I expected. And I mean that in a good way.”

  “You thought I’d be an entitled ass, right?”

  “Well, you are the first wizard in a thousand years.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “I can imagine. I promise I’ll keep digging into the mating question. There has to be a full accounting somewhere. I just need to figure out how they catalogued it.”

  We went back to the tomes then, and when my stomach growled, I called it a day. I stretched and stacked the books I’d finished. I’d come back tomorrow if Beckett found more volumes to go through. We’d made a big dent in what she’d gathered so far.

  And her earlier assertion seemed to be correct. Someone didn’t want the general public to know about the witch who lost her magic. I’d call it strange, but over the past months I’d learned more than I ever wanted about political machinations and power grabs. And a key pillar in politics was knowing what to reveal and what to cover up.

  That someone felt the need to bury this gave me hope that there might be a way around it. Perhaps Keeling did something wrong in the ceremony. Could I devise a way to protect my magic during the mating? No guarantees, but I felt a lot more hopeful—and frustrated with the cover up—than I had last night.

  “Do you want me to walk you back to your room?” Beckett blinked owlishly, tomes spread out on all sides of her. “It might help keep your eager fans away.”

  “Let Miss Beckett help, Mister Quinn. One love pellet a day be me limit.” Pie nuzzled my chin.

  Ugh. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

  She cracked her knuckles. “I’ve always wanted to practice a few of the moves my father taught me.”

  17

  I’d only been safely ensconced in my room for a few minutes when a firm knock sounded on the door. I scowled. Please say the witches weren’t ballsy enough to come to my rooms. Beckett had turned out to be a first-rate bodyguard but I was so done. Beckett, Pie, and Trash Panda had dropped me off, then returned to the archives together. Pie and TP fighting over Beckett’s shoulder all the way back down the corridor.

  Another knock.

  “Who is it?” I called out.

  “Your number one fan.”

  Relaxing, I unlocked and opened the door. “Come in, Cora.”

  “How’d you guess it was me? I heard you’ve developed quite a fan club; it could have been anyone.” She sniggered.

  “Real creative. You know, you could have warned me witches would hound me to have sex with them, instead of joking about it. It’s . . . unnerving.”

  Her shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry. You’re right. In my defense, I honestly didn’t realize everyone would catch QBF.”

  “QBF?”

  “Quinn Broomsparkle Fever.” She gazed at me with wide, innocent eyes. Ha!

  It worked. I laughed. “Why do I put up with you?”

  “Maybe because I hook you up with the best lava java and wine in the realm?” She held out a small cask.

  “Do I even want to know where you found that?”

  “It’s from the High Rei’s personal wine stores. Voccai merchants brought it when they came on a state visit last month. Don’t worry, we’ve tested it for poisons and other magic. It’s safe. And really, really tasty.”

  “Cora Ebonywood, are you trying to get me drunk before I meet with the Council?”

  “Me?” She batted her eyelashes. “Will it help convince you to stay?”

  “You’re a terrible influence.” I pointed to a cupboard. “Steins are in there.”

  “I won’t let you have more than one. You can finish the rest with Twig tonight.” She poured us each a tankard, then took a sip. “One perk of working for Hallewell.”

  We clinked steins. “I’m sure there are many.”

  Cora’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “Mmhmm. She makes working with the Council a breeze.”

  We moved to the divan, while I considered what she’d said. Cora sat cross-legged, sinking into the cushions and enjoying her wine. I took small sips, knowing I’d need my wits about me for the coming conversation. Her cheeks remained pink tinged, and she pretended to study her wine, not meeting my eyes. She was hiding something.

  She cleared her throat. “Quinn, tell me all about—”

  “Blood and tears! You’re sleeping with a rei.” I gaped at her. And I thought I knew just who, if their exchanged glances were any indication.

  “Shh! Geez, Quinn, why don’t you shout it from the top of the citadel towers? I don’t think everyone in town heard you. We’re trying to keep it a secret.”

  I winced. “Sorry. I just—Cora, what in the lower realms would convince you that getting involved with a rei is a good idea?”

  “Says the guy who’s sleeping with his familiar.”

  Touché. “We’re mates. I love him. It’s hardly the same thing.”

  Cora’s eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened. “It’s exactly the same thing. Well, not the mates thing. But we love each other. You don’t have to be such a judgmental ass about it.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “You heard me, Quinn Broomsparkle. We’re in love.”

  “So is it—”

  “Please don’t ask.” She put a finger over my lips. “It’s not only my secret to share. Not yet, at any rate. You know I would otherwise. Besides, I’m sure you can guess.”

  “And this is common knowledge? Among the Council, I mean?” I mumbled around her finger.

  She blew out a slow breath, removed her hand. “Of course not. Officially all reis are expected to marry men from certain qualified houses.” She sniffed. “Most of them are in loveless but expedient marriages. It’s expected. Once they’ve produced a female heir, they’re free to take a permanent companion. In my case, that will be yours truly.”

  “Huh.” Not an arrangement I’d be okay with, however, as Cora said, who was I to judge?

  “That’s all you have to say about it?” Cora’s knuckles whitened around her stein.

  “What do you want me to say? I’m still trying to wrap my head around the news. It’s just unexpected.”

  “Why? You don’t think my lineage is prestigious enough?” Her face turned a dangerous shade of red.

  “Coraline Ebonywood, you know me better than that. I don’t give a hellhound’s hind leg what your parentage is. Being from a ‘good’ family doesn’t automatically make you a decent person.”

  “You say that, but Twig is a Starfig. I’ve heard Hallewell whispering with other Council members about it. They’re in awe and don’t know what to do with him. How can a familiar be from the most prestigious family in the Elder?”

  I chuckled, though not from amusement. “I don’t care what his surname represents. Twig loves me for me. And I love him in spite of being a Starfig.”

  Cora sighed. “You are such a love-struck sap.”

  “Hey—”

  “I’m glad the years haven’t changed everything about you. I worried I wouldn’t even recognize you.”

  I grimaced. “I’m not the same boy you knew.”

  “Oh, Quinn, I know that. We’ve both grown up. Well, you have, at any rate. I pretend.” She clinked my cup and drained her stein before pouring more. Taking a deep breath, she set her drink down, then gripped my hand. “Tell me. And then afterward let’s go explore that passageway.”

  So, I told my story. Not all of it, and I
glossed over the worst bits, though I think she knew. Instead, I focused on being cut off from family and friends and how Twig saved me.

  When she teared up, I handed her a handkerchief that matched my outfit.

  Yes, Auric thought of everything.

  Then, because I hated to see her sad, I told her about how Twig and I fell in love. I even did an accurate impersonation of Auric Starfig. Soon, I had her laughing. No way I’d let her pity me.

  As kids, I’d been shy and awkward, and Cora had been the brave one. She’d dragged me out of my shell—kicking and screaming at times—and gotten us both into loads of trouble and even more adventures. I didn’t want her to look at me differently. I might not be that starry-eyed kid anymore, but I was still her best friend.

  Cora scowled. “I hate Befsarry for what they did. I had my family cut off all donations. They don’t receive a single dypari, no matter how much they grovel.” She swiped at a stray lock of hair, twining it around her finger. “It all happened so fast. You failed your tests, and before I made an offer, they’d shipped you off to the Elder. My family tried to buy you back. Whoever bought you wouldn’t sell.”

  A lump formed in my throat. I had no idea. The first days I’d thought of Cora—and home—a lot, but again, that way lay madness. Yet, now that I confronted Cora’s pain as well as my brother’s, I wished I’d done things differently.

  “Hey?” She placed a hand on my cheek. “Look at me. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it’s not good.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you—”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “You don’t get to guilt yourself over that. I know you glossed over the worst of your ordeal. I’m not stupid. If you didn’t contact me, it’s because you couldn’t.” She poked my forehead. “You’ve always had a lot going on up here and whatever you needed to do to survive, I’m okay with it, and I understand.”

  “Zak’s upset with me.”

  She shrugged. “He’s a kid. I’m not. I get it, okay? And he’ll come around. So stop beating yourself up. I’m just thrilled you’re home now.”