His Fairy Share

by Meghan Maslow

  “I’m glad we agree.”

  I huffed. “I’m going to clear your name.”

  “And what about yours, Quinn?”

  “My name doesn’t matter. You’re the CCM. You’re the clan leader. You can go back to the Elder and—”

  “You’d better not say, ‘Without you.’”

  “That’s the only way.” I tugged at my hair with both hands. “You can come back to visit occasionally.”

  “Or we could both stay here.”

  “You’d be an outlaw.”

  “Pffft. So? You will, too. We’ll be outlaws together.” Twig shrugged like he could easily abandon the life we built in the Elder.

  “We can’t. What about Bill? What about Zak?”

  “I should ask you the same thing, Quinn. Are you saying you don’t feel a responsibility to the clan? To your brother?”

  “Of course I do! That’s why you need to take care of them . . . because I can’t.” I clenched my teeth so hard, I’m surprised I didn’t crack a molar or two.

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “Twig—”

  “You know, for once you could try having a little faith in us.”

  Ouch. Twig wasn’t beyond playing dirty when it suited him.

  “It’s different for you,” I insisted.

  “Why? Because you’re my mate? Believe it or not, it goes both ways. Just because you’re human, don’t pretend you can’t feel the bond.”

  I straightened. I could play dirty, too. “I don’t feel anything. Not since our link broke.”

  Twig looked like I’d stolen all the flame from his belly. I wanted to take it back but bit my lip. The truth will set you free, right? And other than pain, I didn’t feel much.

  “So be it.” He spun on his heel and slammed out of the hut. I flinched when the door banged shut so hard it shook the foundations.

  I waited for him to return. He always did. Our fights never lasted long. Honestly, it surprised me that he made it out the door. A minute, then two, then five ticked past. No Twig.

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Blood and tears, I’d fucked up. Again. But it was for the best, right? He didn’t need the lodestone of breaking the accord around his neck. He was a rising star. I was just . . . me. I’d gladly bear the weight for us both.

  When the door crashed open, my heart fluttered in relief, until I realized Zak stood in the entryway, hope lighting up his face. “You’re back!”

  “I’m back.”

  His expression turned from joy to glowering. “What did you say to Twig? He looked like someone drowned his puppy, or hellhound, or whatever.”

  “I . . . you know what? It’s none of your business.”

  “Really? Because I could have sworn you said we were a family.” Zak eyed me before saying, “Ah, hellafuck. You think because your magic’s gone, you’re somehow like the rest of us nonmagicals now.”

  “First, you’re hardly a nonmagical, are you?” At his shocked expression, I scoffed. “Didn’t think I’d figure it out?”

  “I don’t want it.” Zak’s expression turned horrified. “Look at the trouble it’s brought you.”

  “It also brought joy.”

  He exhaled harshly. “Yeah, you’re full of joy now.”

  “Which brings me to my second point. I am a nonmagical now.”

  “So? Do you think that’s some sort of excuse to give up?”

  “Zak, you don’t know what you’re talking about—”

  “Fuck you. I’m young, not an idiot. Unlike some people. I fucking looked up to you. And it was never about your magic. Get your shit together. I’m in your corner. So is Twig, though if you dished out the same shit you’re giving me, then maybe he won’t be for long.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t have any magic! I can’t . . .”

  Zak surprised me by throwing himself into my arms. He squeezed so tight I could barely breathe. “You fight, Quinn. Goddesses, you’ve always been a fighter. Why are you giving up so easily now? Your magic didn’t help you survive your first years in the Elder. And, yeah, I know what happened. Le Torneau took great pleasure in enlightening me.”

  I blanched.

  “Don’t. You have nothing to be ashamed of—you survived it. Most wouldn’t have.”

  “You’re giving me too much credit. Twig saved me.” And he’d loved me when I was just a slave. Oh, goddess, I was an idiot. Twig. What had I done?

  Zak released me, stepped back. “You had to survive until he came along. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  “I fucked up.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m here.” He smirked. “I should be a fairypist. Isn’t that what they call them in the Elder?”

  I shoved him, swiped at my now leaking eyes. Burn me, I hadn’t cried this much ever. “I have to find him.”

  “He crossed back through the portal.” Zak didn’t meet my eyes.

  “What!” He wouldn’t. He couldn’t leave me. Could he? No, he said I had no faith, but deep down, I did. I’d just had to unbury it from under all this pain. “I need to go after him.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Zak peeked up at me from under his lashes.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Captain Yardley’s risked a lot saving us. It won’t be long before the witches retaliate. We need to prepare.”

  “Cockatrice’s curses, I’ve had my head up my ass for the last . . . how long was it?”

  “Seven days.” Zak smirked, looking like a younger version of me. “A week isn’t so bad. I’d have had it up mine for a least a month.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” He gave me a pointed look, bumping my shoulder.

  “That’s why I need to go after him. He needs to know I’m sorry.”

  Zak cleared his throat. “Twig doesn’t want you to go after him.”

  My brows drew together. “What do you mean, he doesn’t want me to go after him?”

  “His exact words.”

  “Well, that’s too bad—”

  Screams and shouts cut off my words. A pirate burst into the hut carrying an armload of swords. “Witches!” he shouted. “They found us! All hands on deck.” He dropped blades at our feet before disappearing out the door.

  Zak’s eyes went wide before he scooped up the cutlasses. He held one out. “Quinn?”

  I stared at the blade before grabbing it. “We fight.”

  32

  Turned out to be anti-climactic. A single scout ship appeared on the horizon. By the time several small skimmers loaded and launched, followed by two larger, less agile sloops decked out for war, the scout came about and fled toward safer waters faster than the sluggish breeze should allow.

  From inside one of the island’s wooden watch towers, I could see the skimmers wouldn’t reach the scout before it cut back through the mirage spell and returned to open water. Our ships could eventually catch it, except to do so would take the boats far out of pirate waters and put us at risk of running into an ambush. The pirates did give the scout chase, if for no other reason to see what the craft could do.

  Even without my powers, I felt the crackling of energy through my bracer. Magic. A lot of it.

  “Beckett, are you the only witch on the island?” We stood side-by-side, our eyes squinting to the horizon, the heat of the day making our clothes stick to our skin.

  “You sense that too?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that whole boat runs by magic.” I held up my bracer and it sizzled, sparks shooting up and down the length. Ever since my own magic disappeared, my bracer surged when any other magic presented itself. I could only surmise that it provided an early warning system now that I didn’t have my own.

  “What in pirates’ pantaloons is that?” Beckett’s expression changed from grim to wondering.

  “Watch.” I grinned. My first genuine one in days. Pointing Scrodbun’s war hammer at the retreating craft, the bracer shot a small beam of
magic directly at the scout. No ballista could have reached the scout at that distance. The war hammer’s ancient magic arced across the waves, skipping along the crests until it struck the scout inches above the waterline. Its light spread across the entire ship. I swear the hammer hummed with happiness at being used.

  The taste of salt filled my mouth, and my eyes watered when the odor of decaying vegetation and rotting seashells assaulted my nose.

  The hammer catalogued the weaknesses of not only the ship, but all the crew. The crew, except one, weren’t human, but some sort of magically animated golems. Made of . . . barnacles. I didn’t even know they could make golems from barnacles. I had only heard of mud and clay ones.

  The hammer’s magic disappeared as quickly as it came, retracting until the bracer returned to normal.

  “What is that?”

  “There’s a single witch onboard. Magic runs that ship.” I swiped sweat from my brow with my sleeve, the humidity in the air making breathing a chore.

  “Witches are bad luck, remember? No one will sail with them. They’ve been using magical means to power and steer the ships for years. How did you know?”

  “There’s also a structural weakness in the hull that’s been badly repaired,” I continued. “A well-aimed harpoon and it would go down, witch or not. The sloops could probably get close enough to do it.”

  “That’s amazing.” Her eyes fastened on my bracer before she did that head tilt that meant she accessed her memory. Seconds ticked passed.

  “The scout?” I prompted.

  She blinked, looking like she came out of a trance. Shaking her head, she then absently petted Trash Panda draped over her shoulders.

  How could she stand wearing what amounted to a fur scarf in this heat? I sweated harder just thinking about it.

  “It’ll have a locator on it, so even if we destroy it our location’s compromised.” Beckett continued to pet the raccoon.

  “Do you have other safe ports?”

  “A few. I’m sure many will opt to head to them.” Beckett’s lip curled. “Nothing worse than a coward among pirates. Good riddance.”

  “You don’t have to do this—”

  “Yes, I do. I knew things were bad between the witches and the pirates. I hadn’t realized how bad. It’s been a quiet genocide of my people. I plan to stop it or die trying.”

  “You could give me up.” It had to be said.

  “You think they’re only here for you?” Beckett shook her head and Trash Panda groaned. “As I said, it’s inevitable. You only upped the timeline. And even if I handed you over, they’d destroy the island and all of us. There’s no honor among these witches.”

  “I meant what I said about joining your crew. I’m not much of a sailor, but I can fight.”

  She glanced at my bracer again, a small smile making her look younger than her years. “Scrodbun’s war hammer. I thought it a silly legend.”

  I wasn’t surprised she figured it out. “It chose me.”

  “It’s sentient?” She raised a delicate brow.

  “I don’t honestly know. It seems to have opinions. Until recently it remained quiet, but since I’ve been in the Hominus, it’s been a lot more active.”

  “The time of the dragon is upon us; watch fools as the conquest begins, hammer in hand.”

  “I didn’t know the prophesy was common knowledge. Twig hates prophesies.”

  Beckett chuckled. “I would too if I played a key part in one.”

  “That’s not for certain.” I bumped her shoulder. “Is there more to the prophesy? I figure if anyone has it memorized, it will be you.”

  She titled her head, considering. “No, just that. Seers throughout the Hominus all began suddenly reciting it. When you arrived with Twig I wondered if it meant you guys, though from all indications the war hammer remained a myth. I’m guessing the Council of Divine Magic didn’t take it that way.”

  “Hallewell recited that piece to me at the docks.”

  “So, she believes you’re the one.” Beckett nodded to herself. “Does she know about the hammer?”

  “I think so. She looked at my bracer as she spoke the prophesy. She also said it didn’t have to be me.”

  “Wishful thinking on her part.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “What aren’t you telling me, Quinn?” Beckett squinted up at me, using her hand to block the sun’s rays. Even with the thatched roof over our head, the sun managed to make the day over-bright.

  In for a dypari, in for a hoard. “I went to the archives to see you but you were already gone. An old witch approached and started spouting more prophesy.”

  Beckett sucked in a harsh breath. “Elderly, you say? With a huge wolflike dog?”

  “Yes, that’s her.”

  Beckett’s mouth rounded in an ‘o’ of surprise. “Divinas Fortuna used to be the Hominus’s most prolific seer. Twenty-five years ago, her visions stopped. Or so she claimed.”

  “Divinas Fortuna, really? Isn’t that a little on the nose? Twig would have a field day with that name.” Saying his name brought an ache to my chest. I missed him already.

  Beckett grinned, then shrugged. “The Council stuck Divinas in the archives to keep her close, but she showed no further signs of her gift.”

  “Well, she sure gave us a show: Rebirth and redemption, ships sail, monsters reveal. As the sky turns dark, an empire shatters, another rises from its shards.” I did my best imitation of the old woman.

  Beckett chuckled. “Wow, that’s some prophesy to lay at your feet.”

  “I’m not even sure . . .”

  “It’s you. You and Twig.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Divinas didn’t come out of retirement to accidentally spout prophesy at you. It’s you, Quinn. With or without your magic. We need you.”

  I felt those words resonate deep in my soul. If not me, then who? Hallewell? No way.

  The bracer seemed to hum in agreement.

  “Does this mean you’ll take me on as part of your crew?”

  Beckett grinned. “Welcome aboard, Pirate Broomsparkle.”

  33

  Later that evening, Beckett handed me an empty tankard, then led me into a large, sandy clearing surrounded by a ring of palm trees. The sun had almost set, sending fiery tendrils across the darkening sky. A strong sea breeze rustled the palm fronds, an island music that was both soothing and a little unnerving in its wildness. Lanterns swayed from several trees, their light casting relief from the coming night, though dark patches of shadow remained outside the lanterns’ glow. I shivered, even though the wind remained warm.

  We stood at the tree line taking in the gathering. All the other captains along with high ranking crew members loitered together in small groups in the center of the clearing. Some laughed, some scowled, and a few glared our way.

  Two large barrels of grog or rum—I couldn’t tell—sat untapped in the center with a large hand bell on top of one, but otherwise the clearing remained empty of other goods. No chairs. No tables. No food. Just the barrels, the bell, and a bunch of pirates. Many of the men had unkempt beards, with colorful layers of mismatched clothing—including, in several cases, skirts—while the women seemed to favor long, braided hair, tight vests, and breeches. All held at least one tankard.

  “What’s this?” I craned my neck to get a better look at the gathering from our place by the trees.

  “An assembly. We need to know who’s standing with us, and who’s a cowardly dog. Say nothing about your magic. Better they think you still have it.”

  “Is this like a parley—”

  A pirate barreled into me from behind, sending me sprawling to the sand. “Watch where yer going, landlubber,” he snarled.

  “Whale-Eye, ye clumsy ox! Ye best not injure me tactical advisor, or ye’ll be swimming with the fishes.” Beckett slipped so effortlessly into pirate speak that it was easy to forget she’d spent most of her life as a witch. She offered me a hand and pulled me to standing.
<
br />   “Ye can’t be serious, Captain. He’s no sailor. Not even much of a wizard as far as I seen.”

  I brushed sand off my clothing, picked up my tankard, ignoring the large pirate. He wasn’t wrong. But sometimes circumstances made sailors out of landlubbers. And pirates out of wizards. And if I had to cross an ocean to take down the High Rei, then I’d damn well embrace the pirate’s life and smile doing it. Or drink, as the case warranted.

  “I don’t think it be yer place to tell me who can and cannot sail on the Disreputable Prince.” Beckett’s blade snicked from her scabbard as she handed me her stein. “Iffen ye want to keep yer place, ye’ll rethink yer words.”

  Before Whale-Eye could say anything, a voice called in a lilting drawl that could only be found in the south islands, “Pirates fighting at an assembly? My, my, how provincial y’all have become.”

  Whale-Eye’s beady eyes narrowed before he straightened up and saluted. “Captain Lore, it be a pleasure, sir, to have such a seasoned pirate among us.”

  The pirate captain nodded, taking his due, though his gaze went flinty.

  The barb wasn’t lost on Beckett either, though she ignored Whale-Eye. Her attention focused on the new pirate. Tall, broad, with close cropped hair and a short beard sprinkled with gray, Captain Lore made an imposing figure. His rich clothing also set him apart from other pirates, his silk tunic heavily embroidered, and his boots of fine leather. He’d look at home sipping muscadine tea with the Council of Divine Magic.

  “If y’all will excuse me, I have a mind to speak with your captain.” Lore’s hand went to rest on the pommel of a coiled whip that sat at his waist.

  “Aye-aye, sir. Happy to have ye here to talk some sense into people.” Whale-Eye saluted and hurried off toward the center of the gathering.

  Guess that was my cue.

  Beckett grabbed my arm. “You stay. If Whale-Eye will mess with you, than so will some others.”

  “I can take care of myself.” I patted the dagger on my hip.

  Beckett shook her head, not taking her gaze from Lore. “No need to be stitching up pirates before the actual battle. Let’s save it for the witches, ’kay?”

  She released me and gave the pirate a blinding smile while sheathing her cutlass. “Hello, Coakley. I missed your ornery hide. It’s been too long.”