The Fairy's Tale

by F. D. Lee

  “Right, what in the five hells is going on here?” Bea demanded, watching them watching each other. “You’re like two cats waiting to see which one’ll jump first.”

  “A very well-chosen simile,” he said, winking at her, which annoyed Bea. He was actually trying to conspire with her. “Your friend is a witch, I assume?”

  “You’ve told him about me?” Melly asked, aghast.

  “No, nothing,” Bea denied hotly.

  “You wear your vocation like armour, my Lady, unaware it causes you to shine on the battlefield. And you know what I am, do you not? I assume you have informed against me to Bea? What sugared untruths have you fed her, I wonder?”

  “None.”

  Seven laughed then, filling the room with the golden sound of his amusement. He stood from the bed and walked to his desk, where he poured three glasses of a rich, amber liquid. He handed one each to Bea and Melly with a little bow.

  “My Lady, you are everything I had hoped you would be,” he said. He appeared in good spirits, but Bea noticed that when he moved he kept one hand on the bedstead or the desk, as if he needed the support.

  “But look, our mutual friend is growing angry with us,” Seven said, misunderstanding Bea’s frown as she watched him. “Perhaps we should discuss our deceits later.”

  “You can forget that,” Bea snapped. “Everyone’s got some secret it seems – quite honestly, I doubt there’d be time. Now, I’ve been told you’re a genie. Is that right?”

  Seven inclined his head.

  “There,” Melly said. “I told you. You can’t trust him. Genies are only interested in themselves. They’re selfish, cruel hedonists.”

  “And I understand I am also an Anti-Narrativist. I wonder I do not simply burst into flames.”

  “See? See how glib he is?” Melly said to Bea, stabbing her cigarette in the air. “No one good is that confident. Or that clever.”

  “I’m not sure Seven’s ever actually said he’s good.”

  “I have not,” he confirmed.

  “Aha! He admits it!” Melly announced.

  “I fail to see how I can be both liar and character witness,” Seven drawled.

  “You’ll not fool us with your pretty words, djinn,” Melly snapped.

  “Nor would it appear with logic,” Seven answered.

  “Let’s get the money and go,” Melly said to Bea.

  Bea pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache coming on. “I want to talk to him.”

  “What could he have to say you’d want to hear?”

  “Aef atesh yvon,” Seven said, yawning pointedly. “Why do you not organise these things before beginning? Now, mistress godmother, for what purpose do you require money?”

  “To buy material for a dress,” Bea said. “Do you have any?”

  He nodded and went to his desk. He pulled out a drawer and produced a small bag that hung heavy from the little strings he held it by. He walked back to Bea and placed it in her hand, closing her fingers around it.

  “There is enough here to buy the finest silks. This is for Sindy, then? You are determined to see your story through?”

  Bea didn’t dare look at Melly. “No. I think you’re right. But I don’t want to be Redacted either. I have another idea to finish the story, one that will make everyone happy – even you. But I might need your help.”

  “Oh?”

  “Sindy’s missing. She’s run away. I think – I hope – she’s just hiding somewhere we can find her. But if she isn’t… if she’s been taken on a slaver ship…”

  “You wish me to return her to you?”

  Bea nodded. If she was right about him, what she was asking was that he cause himself untold pain to help her. She wouldn’t blame him if he said no. She’d hate him, but she wouldn’t blame him.

  Seven looked down at her, his endless blue eyes darkening as he studied her face. Bea held her breath.

  “Fine. I will do this for you-”

  “Thank you.”

  “After the Ball. That is my condition. Do you agree?”

  Bea thought. If Sindy was in trouble, leaving her there any longer than necessary was unforgivable. On the other hand, if Seven kept his promise he’d be able to bring her back in a matter of moments. On the other other hand, she had no guaranteed that he’d stick around after the Ball.

  “You have my word,” he said.

  He’d never lied to her.

  “Agreed,” Bea said.

  “Very good,” he said. “Is that all? If so I must beg you excuse me. I have been engaged all morning, and still there is more to be done before tonight.”

  “Are you… Will you be alright? We can look after the King at the Ball if you’re feeling, um, under the weather,” Bea said. She realised as she said it that she meant it. She would look after John for him.

  Melly huffed. Bea ignored her.

  Seven somehow managed to roll his eyes, a trick which, had Bea had more time, she certainly would have asked him about.

  “Your concern underwhelms,” he replied, whatever moment of rapprochement between them over. “I am the King’s Adviser and must attend. Go now. I will see you and your marvellous dress this evening.”

  Bea glared at him, secretly relieved. It was easier when he was nasty. “Ha bloody ha. At least after tomorrow we can get back to our normal lives. What more could possibly go wrong?”

  Seven and Melly looked at Bea in horror.

  “It’s not her fault,” Melly said quickly, taking Bea by the arm and unlocking Seven’s door, pulling them out of the room, “no one tells them about Narrative Convention anymore.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Bea hung around the edges of Llanotterly town square, trying not to notice the stares from the humans as they busied themselves around her.

  The sun was sitting low in the sky, and the atmosphere around her was slowly changing from one of frantic preparation to one of frivolity and boozy high-spirits. A roaring bonfire was burning in the centre of the square, encircled by four large spits, already occupied by the multiple carcasses of fat pigs. The sweet, smoky smell of cooking pork filled the air, mingling with the warm scent of autumn leaves, baked cakes and breads, and melting butter.

  A child ran past, skidded to a stop and turned to stare at Bea, a candied apple attached to his fingers with the dual adhesive of sugar and enthusiasm. He seemed to be confused by the sight of her in her grand dress and, for a second, he looked like he was going to turn back and speak to her, but something changed his mind. He ran off, into the crowd.

  She glanced down at her corseted chest, brushing the hard boning with the tips of her fingers. When she’d seen the dress in the wardrobe she’d chosen it because it was such a traditional kind of dress, and the rest had all been black. But the truth was she felt the absence of her raggedy, patchwork dress as keenly as ice against an exposed tooth.

  “Any luck?”

  Bea looked up. Melly was watching her, a gentle expression on her face. Bea let her hand drop back to her side and, with a little difficulty, lifted her skirts up high enough to reveal the hessian bag safely tucked between her feet.

  “Not much,” Bea admitted miserably. “I could only get red. Hardly the colour for a heroine. Please tell me you had better luck?”

  Melly’s smile curdled, and Bea felt her heart drop.

  “I found some black silk – don’t, I knew you’d look at me like that. I did try to find colours. There just isn’t anything left.”

  Bea pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know. The seamstress I spoke to said all her best material was bought months ago. This is a disaster. She can hardly show up to a ball dressed for a funeral. She needs to make an impression. Mortal gods, she needs to undo the impression she’s already made.”

  Melly squeezed her friend’s bare shoulder, but she could think of nothing to say.

  “Come on,” Bea said, her voice as heavy as her dress. “We’d better get to the cottage.”

  “I thought you said yo
u’d be here this morning,” Ana grumbled, opening the door for Bea and Melly. “What in the Five Kingdoms are you wearing?” She exclaimed as the perspectives of Bea’s dress clicked into place.

  “It’s called a Ball gown,” Bea answered, a very explicit look on her face.

  “We could house a family of five under that skirt. The butterflies are nice though,” she added. Even Ana knew when to pick her fights. Declarations of war had been subtler than the look on Bea’s face.

  “Hmm,” Bea answered, not entirely pleased to be mollified.

  Ana stepped to the side, trying to make room for Bea and the dress to enter through the narrow front door. It wasn’t an easy fit. Ana stood somewhat helplessly in the hallway while Bea struggled to pull herself in. Somewhere behind the godmother, a tall, pale woman with dark red hair and a very odd headdress was pushing at Bea with her shoulder.

  “You must be Ana,” Melly said, leaning around Bea with her hand out-stretched.

  “And you are?” Ana asked, taking the witch’s hand in her own.

  “You can call me Melly. Well met,” Melly answered, returning to the task of getting Bea into the house. “Could you perhaps…?”

  It took three goes to get Bea through the door, with Ana pulling and Melly pushing and Bea steering. They were now sitting in the little living room that Sindy had met John and Seven in earlier in the week.

  “Thanks,” Bea said, panting.

  “That’s alright. I didn’t like that vase anyway,” Ana said, equally breathlessly. “So… would you like a tea? Or perhaps something stronger?”

  Bea looked at the sister, a faint smile on her lips. “I’ve heard a lot about your brain,” she said, “and I think I can see why. That is a very good idea.”

  Melly simply nodded her head, too exhausted to speak.

  Ana disappeared into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of honey wine and a plate of sausages.

  “I probably shouldn’t eat if I’ve got to dress up later, but I’m starving so hang it. The universe helps those who help themselves, after all, so I’m helping myself to Mum’s wine and Dad’s dinner.”

  Bea smiled, taking a sip of the cold wine and feeling better for it.

  “Where are your parents?” Melly asked, selecting a sausage from the plate.

  “With Will. He’s taken them to Sinne to try and find Sindy. When are you going to find her?”

  “Do you know when they’ll be back?” Bea asked, dodging the question.

  “Probably around ten, eleven. It’s only an hour’s ride, and they won’t want to be out late,” Ana said, rubbing the ball of her shoulder uneasily. For the first time since Bea had met her, she seemed uncertain.

  “What’s happened?” Bea asked.

  “They didn’t want to leave the house. Will – he had to tell them there was a slaver ship in dock, and that’d he heard a rumour they were looking for young girls. You know. It was awful. I really thought her dad was going to cry. Even Mum showed some reaction.”

  The room fell silent, no one sure what to say. Bea shook her head, more unwilling than unable to believe what a mess everything had become. There were some very dark, hard truths forming in her mind.

  “What an unforgivable thing to tell a parent,” Melly whispered, shocked.

  “And what should he have said?” Ana snapped.

  “I don’t know – that she was staying at a friend’s house?”

  “For two days? Without word? There’s bears in the forests, and wolves. Not to mention the normal dangers facing a pretty girl alone in the world. Slavers are just one of the fears our parents have been living with since she went missing.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just tell them that she was on an adventure?” Melly ask, confused, “She could’ve gone off with the local swine herd to find a missing sword or something. I’ve used that one plenty of times.”

  “Excuse me? You’ve ‘used that one’? Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that all the people who get left behind are frantic with worry? What do you think happens? They just stop existing because you’ve come along and started playing story-time?”

  Bea kept quiet. New thoughts and old memories were rushing through her mind.

  “None of this was my idea, by the way,” Ana said. “I didn’t even want to go to the Ball, but the new Adviser talked me into it, and now your friend is insisting I go as well. I should be helping to find Sindy. And as for all this godmother stuff, well, so far it doesn’t seem to be much more than manipulation.”

  “No, no, no,” Melly said, shaking her head. “Our job is to make you happy. You’re characters. We give you stories and you just be happy. We help you achieve your dreams.”

  “Well, so far I’m yet to see you do anything that actually helps me achieve my dream, and to be honest I don’t think you even know what it is.”

  “You want to marry the King,” Melly said, resting her arm on Bea, who’d gone very pale during Ana’s speech. “And my friend Bea is a very good, very experienced godmother. She’ll get your sister back and have you married and settled down before you can say ‘I do’.”

  Melly looked from Bea to Ana, an encouraging smile on her face. It didn’t survive long.

  “What?” Ana shrieked. “Is that what this is all about? You seriously think I’m going to marry that idiot? No. No. This ends now. You said you’d find Sindy but all you’ve done is eat my food, smash up my house, and nearly tricked me into marrying someone. I’ll go and get Sindy myself, and you can shove your story. You can leave now.”

  Melly looked at Bea helplessly.

  Bea stood up.

  “You’re right.”

  Ana glared. “I know I’m right.”

  “Good. You should know that. It’s important. I’m going to get Sindy back. I promise. But if I do, will you still go to the Ball?”

  “No. I won’t,” Ana said.

  “Look, I don’t want you to marry the King. Not anymore. But I do want you to go to the Ball, because I think you need to speak to him about the woods and Cerne Bralksteld. I’ll have to confess I broke the Plot and face the consequences.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Bea, don’t…” Melly warned.

  “No, Bea, do,” Ana retorted.

  Bea held up her hands, trying to calm the situation down. “You see, Sindy was supposed to marry the King, but I didn’t know she was in love with Will. I was going to force her to marry John, and it’s my fault she ran away-”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But Melly will find her and I’ll get her back now. And then I thought I could get you to marry John. It made sense in a way, you two have such different opinions. But I see now it’s no different, not really. It’s the Plots. They control us as much as you.”

  “Bea, stop it,” Melly said urgently.

  “No, this has gone on too long,” Bea said. “And it’s bullshit. The Mirrors, the Plots, all of it. And now some poor old couple are riding across the country to try and stop what they think is their youngest daughter from being sold to slavers! It’s not good enough! We thought we’d got rid of the pain and the blood but we just changed it. It’s still there, but it’s all dressed up as morals and true love and the good being good and the bad being bad, but it’s not like that. For them and for us. It’s got to stop.”

  Bea searched Melly’s face, trying to find some sign that her friend understood what she was saying, that she might even agree with her. She didn’t know what had happen to Melly, what or who she’d lost, to make her so afraid of the GenAm. Hells, maybe nothing had happened, and being scared to death was the only sensible reaction to an organisation that could wipe your memories as easily as fingerprints from a looking glass.

  Maybe, Bea thought, I should have considered sooner why that prospect doesn’t frighten me as much as it does Melly? But it was too late for reflection. She had run too far, and, just like when she left home, it was too late now to turn back.

  �
�What the hell did all of that mean?” Ana said, breaking the tension.

  Bea turned to look at her. “I… it’s a long story,” she said.

  “But you’re still going to bring Sindy back, and you don’t want me to marry the King?”

  “Yes. And No.” Bea said.

  “Good. Now then, how about your friend here finds where Sindy is, and you and me have a little sit down, you tell me exactly what all that meant, and then, if I believe you, I’ll go to this Ball for you.”

  “You’ll still go?”

  Ana nodded. “Yes, probably. It makes sense for me to try to break terms with the King. We can’t really hold him up much longer, so I might as well have some say in what happens next. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Well, that’s a lot to take in,” Ana said, trying to take it all in.

  Bea, once she’d begun explaining, had found she couldn’t stop. It was like a dam, shored up for years, had finally burst.

  “I’m not sure what to make of it all, to be honest with you,” Ana added. “I suppose that explains why everyone always expects me to be an idiot, or cruel or whatever. Can’t be ugly and nice it seems.”

  Bea shifted in her seat, embarrassed.

  “I’m not going to marry him,” Ana restated.

  “That’s your choice,” Bea said, knowing with absolute certainty it was. There had to be a moment when the story ended, where she had to stop reading from the Plot and let real life begin, and that moment was now.

  In the space of a week she’d achieved her dream, only to realise it was a sham. She’d met the evil villain and discovered that, although he was certainly dishonest, arrogant and very smug, he probably wasn’t as wicked as she’d been led to believe. And, if she hadn’t been in trouble with the Redaction Department before her confession to Ana, she certainly would be now. She’d also no doubt blown any chance she might have had with Mistasinon.

  But none of that mattered. She’d realised the truth, not just about herself but about the world she had idolised and fought to be a part of. It wasn’t a nice truth, but at least it was hers. That mattered. She wasn’t sure quite why it mattered, but she knew it did.