The Sequal to Wickedly Delicious - Early Preview

Winifred is enjoying a relaxing autumn of listening to the call of unicorns, while delivering chocolate to the fairies. 

Early Draft Preview

The unicorn’s trumpeting song caused my eyes to flutter open. Although I was groggy I didn’t think I’d dozed off for more than a few seconds. I sat, still just on the edge of sleep, in a rocking chair at the edge of the forest for a few moments longer. Fall it might be, but the temperature in the sunlight was perfect, for now, and I was tempted to continue to doze there. That is, until I noticed that I was covered with more than a score of red and yellow leaves. I kicked myself for succumbing to the sleep brought on by the unicorn and missing my chance to see one.

Swarms of fuzzy Wild Fey, appearing as everything from anthropomorphic rabbits to badgers, were sleeping around me, clearly deciding since I’d taken a nap they might as well too. I felt my hair, there were a few knots and tangles in it, clearly some of the fey had had some fun messing with me while I slept. This is why I kept my pens locked away where they couldn’t use them to draw on my face. I was actually surprised no one had woken me to beg for a chocolate truffle. I would have at least expected my Familiar Noreen to have.

The unicorn sang another trumpeting song, a little like a deer’s call, only much sweeter and far more complex.

Witches and Wizards who’d attempted to research them presumed the unicorns were trying to impress the each other with their songs, but no one knew for certain. Unicorns were spirits, a term for magical creatures that we knew almost nothing about, but spotting one was life changing, or so those who’d managed to do so had said.

I looked around for my familiar, the Pixie had flown her roly-poly, hedgehog like form into a tree, I presume in hopes of spotting a unicorn. Even in fairyland they were a rare sight and were the reason we’d come out here in the first place. Although I’d never managed to see one the attempt was always enjoyable. There were numerous other rare sights that one could see occasionally in the woods, as well as the more common, but still fun sightings of deer clacking their horns together, geese flying south for the winter, and the wild Fareesee (a local English fairy) helping the squirrels gather acorns for the winter.

I checked my pocket watch and my heart lurched. Five-o-clock. Somehow I’d slept for six hours and was supposed to meet my boyfriend for dinner right now, then cater an important event, and before that I was supposed to have delivered chocolates to dozens of Fey, deliveries I’d now missed.

Why didn’t you wake me?” I called up to Noreen, frustration and panic starting to wash over me.

Noreen grinned down mischievously at me. “You just looked so peaceful. Besides the expression on your face right now is so funny. It was totally worth setting your watch ahead to see it.”

“Well that’s just,” I started to say, anger creeping into my voice, while struggling to get the knots out of my hair. Using spells from my wand to help with that task as best I could. At the moment I was wishing I was as good at personal grooming magic as I was at combat and cookery. I was painfully tugging and spelling my way through particularly stubborn knot, when I paused, realizing what Noreen had said. “You reset my pocket watch?” I asked, annoyed as a toy puddle living with a mastiff puppy.

Noreen doubled over with gales of laughter, nearly falling out of the tree. A few of the other fairies giggled as well, clearly in on the joke.  

I sighed. Calm, calm, breath, breath, I told myself, clenching my fists while I did it. Being a witch means having a high threshold for childishness, just like being a sister did, and in a way, Noreen was a sister. She’d become my familiar when I was just five, and while she was much, much older than me fairies (like Peter Pan) never really grew up.

“What time is it?” I asked.

Noreen just continued giggling, so I picked up my cup of tea. A red leaf had fallen in it. I pulled this out, swirled the cup around while thinking of my question, I took a quick sip and turned the cup upside down on the table. Fortune telling by any method is difficult, the universe or whatever it is that provides answers doesn’t usually share people’s secrets in a straightforward way. A young witch might be able to find out if a specific girl or boy actually likes them, because that boy or girl actually wants to say something, but is just too embarrassed to. However, if the crush is an active secret, the budding fortune teller won’t learn a thing. A lament I’d had to listen my friends discuss, all too often in high school, a decade earlier. I rarely saw the value in the abstract riddles of fortune telling, which might have saved me from that silliness, but even with the distraction of Noreen’s smirking I figured I could at least tell what time it was in the tea leaves. I looked at the mass of leaves now laying on the table.

Noreen was clearly getting ready to laugh again.

Poker face, I told myself and checked the time. It was exactly the time I should be leaving. Two-o-clock. I breathed a sigh of relief I still had plenty of time until I had to cater the new Duke Wymond’s or Lord Stephen Wymond’s event. I’d helped put his father, the previous Duke Wymond, in prison for murder, so I expected the dinner to be awkward at best, possibly downright hostile. I wished I could have refused to work the event, but it would been an insult for me to refuse, and I didn’t feel like insulting  more powerful Lords that absolutely necessary, not openly at least. Besides, as my Mother constantly reminded me I’d been named Winifred so I would remember it was my job to make peace with the Fey clans and this event would be an opportunity to do just that, hopefully.

I watched the forest for the tell-tale flash of silvery white from a unicorn while trying to get my hair into some semblance of reasonable.

“Did any unicorns come?” I asked Noreen who’d flown out of the tree on her broom to hand me a comb

She shook her head by way of answer but then tutted at me. “If only your mother could see you now,” she said.

I took the comb from her and started struggling it through my hair with one hand, casting a spell to create a mirror image of myself to look at with the other. Illusions was something I was rather good at. “I could do without her telling my hair looks like cobwebs or some other drat.”

“She’s far more creative than that,” Noreen said. “More likely she’d say your hair looks like a drunk pirate tried tying a knot with a fizzy rope that just ended being a mess.” That sounded disturbingly close to something my Mother would say. Born from a smuggler and a pirate she’d somehow grown up to marry a noble and found herself a part of high society. She’d overcompensated by becoming overly stoic in all but her wit at pointing out every tiny flaw in my appearance and character.

“I don’t need you to channel my mother,” I replied.

“Just trying to help,” Noreen’s grin grew Cheshire wide.

The unicorn trumpeted again. The song was so much closer now and hauntingly beautiful. We went silent to listen.

Poking fun at my often, frizzy hair had become something of a running gag for Noreen and my little brother and sister. I’d learned the best response was a good offence.

“So I noticed that you still haven’t introduced your family to Kotish,” I told Noreen, referring to a fairy from the Shetlands known as a Trow she’d been seeing for far longer than I knew her to keep any guy around before.

She flushed. Also, a rare event for her, and it was both satisfying and amusing to see a hedgehog shaped Pixie grow pink with embarrassment.

“It’s about time for your family to have a good sit down with Larkn,” I said referring to the boyfriend I was meeting for dinner tonight, “perhaps I should invite your parents to dinner to meet him and Kotish.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Noreen breathed.

Now it was my turn to give my best Cheshire grin.

“You know if my parents come, they’ll bring your Grandmother Ella Gaveston,” Noreen said. I blanched at the idea of dating with my Father’s mother present. Nothing against her, but who wants to awkwardly date with a grandmother present? Still, if I gave up Noreen would win, so it was time to proverbially speed up in a game of chicken.

“My family loves Knight Errant Larkin,” I said. Emphasizing his title and the fact that he was a hero. “I do wonder what they would say bout Kotish?”

There was nothing wrong with Kotish, so far as I could tell, but Noreen actually felt nervous around him. A reaction I’d never seen her have with any other guy, and she’d dated a lot of guys. If there was anyone who was a master of making people feel embarrassed and nervous, it was my family, with Noreen’s being a close second and she clearly wasn’t ready for that.

“Truce,” Noreen said her hands raised placatingly.

“I still don’t get why you’re so nervous about Kotish anyways,” I said. “He seems decent enough.”

My hair wasn’t quite done but the few remaining knots would easily be covered by my pointed witch’s hat. A gift from my Grandfather Elric Burry, the smuggler on my Mother’s side. It made spells related to stealth easier to perform. I pulled the thing on my head, turned the illusion of myself around to make certain that my robes hadn’t gotten something weird on them while I’d slept and that the hat was actually covering the remaining knots.

“I haven’t truly liked anyone in a long time,” Noreen said. “It’s just awkward. Imagine how you’d feel having Larkin meet your mother’s family.”

“He’s met Grandfather Elric. But I get your point.” The truth was that meeting would be far worse than her family meeting Kotish. As a knight one of Larkin’s jobs was to arrest smugglers, like the Burry side of my family. True awkwardness was having one side of the family as noble and the other as criminal masterminds. Noreen’s deal with Kotish seemed pretty much like a schoolgirl embarrassed by her parents, rather than an actual conflict stemming from the knowledge that one day Larkin had already had to arrest my Grandfather Elric Burry once.

Satisfied that I looked presentable enough I pulled out the spear I used to fly on, rather than the boring broom most witches used.

“Are you headed out then,” Mother asked startling me from behind.

Crickets, I thought. I hadn’t left near fast enough.

“Is that really what you’re wearing to Lord Stephen Wymond’s galla?” Mother asked.

I looked back at her. She was eyeing me disapprovingly. My robes were simple, made for trudging through the mud and leaves like I was about to do.

“No, I had some of my clothes delivered to Mrs. B’s place,” I said. “I’ll change there. I figured I didn’t want to go tromping around in a pair of robes than try to cater such an important party in them.”

My mother looked almost approving.

“Try to keep in mind that it’s our responsibility to stave off conflict,” Mother said. “We wouldn’t want to be trying to talk to one of the Fey lords about peace negotiations when all they can remember is that time we had a blot of jam on our robes, or were so horribly out of style they could hardly look at us.”

“Don’t worry. Mrs. B is almost as fussy as you are,” I told her.

Mother’s frown lines deepened slightly, even though she hadn’t frowned. It was a subtle change that meant she was unhappy with my fussy statement, but she had mastered the art of the poker face. “You do have your sword?” Her voice actually sounded as worried as I felt. Which definitely didn’t help my anxiety.

I nodded. “I’ll have lots of friends and allies attending this party,” I tried to reassure my mother. That was true. I’d likely made chocolate for half the guest list, which practically made me beloved. Although, I still had a knot in my throat about the whole thing. Relations between me and the Wymond’s had never been exactly cordial before I’d helped get half of them locked in jail, and I’d never met the Stephen before he’d requested, I cater this party. I hoped he’d done so as a way of trying to mend fences rather than a plot for revenge.

Mother nodded, she inspected how I looked a few more times, and we said our goodbyes, allowing me to leap up into the air. I flew up out of fairyland and into the human world through what most mundane people would think was a simple rabbit hole in the ground.

 

 

 

 

The leaves earthy fall colors on Hackpen Hill contrasted beautifully with the bright blue sky and the pale aqua of the Fey castle that stood invisible to all but the witches and fairies.  A faint breeze played with the hem of my robes, helping to keep me cool. I kicked up dust in the furrows between the fields as I walked.

I delivered chocolates to some of the Pixies who were busily helping human farmers with the harvest, in secret of course. Ordinary humans were no longer supposed to know of the magical world. Most people would never see the pearly iridescent Fareesee castle on Hackpen Hill. Nor would they know the beauty of the unicorn’s song.  

After making my last delivery in this section of the Pixie’s kingdom I made my way towards Hackpen Hill, a tingle ran up my spine letting me know I’d stepped across an invisible, but very real line between the Pixie and the Fareesee territories. The two Fey kingdoms had been at war a hundred years ago, not very long a time for creatures that could live thousands of years. Raids across the border had been occurring with greater frequency since the Reeve who’d been in charge of enforcing laws and peace between the two lands had been murdered. The man sent to take his place was incompetent. Tensions were higher than they had been in decades. My family had been taking Fey from both kingdoms who had been threatened by the growing trouble into our keep.

As a chocolatier to the fairies I was one of the few witches who could easily cross over the borders between their various kingdoms. The Fey were so obsessed with sugar they had once made homes out of gingerbread and similar sugary treats. Birds and mice had had a field day with such candy homes, not to mention the magical costs necessary to protect gingerbread from the rain. Still, gingerbread homes had been in vogue for shockingly far too long, evidence that style often trumps both function and intelligence.

Today my contribution to happier feelings was a large delivery of chocolate to a number of the Fareesee nobility including Earl Ganintallow. His manor house was through the bottom of a lake, always a bracingly cold experience for me to fly through to on my spear. Yet, as always, I emerged out the other side completely dry. The manor was made of wood with the bark still on it, and leaves that would always remain green, allowing it to blend with the forest in the summer, yet it stood out against the red and yellows of the fall. Rough stone that had been hastily built up around the lower half during the last war, making it look like a craggy, forest hill.

There was a Fareesee dressed in a uniform that indicated he was a household servant just outside the building, looking over some papers and muttering to himself. Jakot I recalled his name. At least I hoped I did. I’d delivered chocolates to his family before and there was nothing more embarrassing than using the wrong name for someone you should know.

“Excuse me Jakot,” I interrupted, and he looked up startled, as if I’d been moving stealthily. “Is Lord Ganintallow here?”

“No, Winifred,” Jakot said. “He’s sworn not to return until he catches sight of a unicorn. You can find his camp however,” The Fareesee who was probably Jakot paused and put his hand over his eyes. Then pointed off into the distance.

I turned to look and after straining to see for a moment I was able to spot the pavilion tents on a distant hillside. I thanked Jakot, got on my spear and flew to the camp. Not wanting to intrude on an army without being acknowledge I landed a hundred yards outside the camp and was swarmed over by baying Fey dogs, their tail’s waggling so wildly their whole backsides swayed back and forth.

“It’s the chocolate lady,” one of the dog’s was baying and waggling so excitedly he fell over as he came. They seemed thinner than they had the last time I’d seen them, perhaps as a result of spending so much more time chasing through the forest.

I pulled out a white chocolate truffle, filled with flavors beloved by dogs and he managed to catch it in his mouth. A few of the Fareesee guards came to watch me get nearly swarmed under as I tried to make certain each of the dogs got a tree. I always made my way to Ganintallow’s with a few extra treats, because, well, dogs.

A lot of people used dogs to try to sniff out the unicorns, in hopes of chasing after them and catching a glimpse of the spirit before it vanished. I wasn’t sure if this method actually gave better results but running around probably was better exercise.

The Fareesee directed me to Ganintallow’s location near the edge of camp. Although it was clear that the tents had been very expensive they were old, their bright colors somewhat faded and their fabric tattered and thin enough in some places that I could see the faintest outlines of the Fey inside them.

The overall atmosphere in the camp was festive, with giant pits of roasting food, yet everyone was whispering so they could listen for the sounds of unicorns in the distance.

I found Ganintallow mounted on his riding dog, likely waiting for the first baying call that would let him know it was time to rush out to try and spot the unicorn. .

“Lady Gaveston,” Earl Ganintallow greeted me. He got off the large dog he used as a horse and gave a bow. Currently he wasn’t much taller than Noreen’s half foot height and in a squirrel like form, although I knew he could be much taller than me if he wanted.

“Have any luck?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Unicorn’s always seem so close, but you don’t know if you’re actually getting closer to seeing one until you’ve done so. At least that’s what I’ve always heard”

“I swear there was one not more than twenty feet form me this morning, before I dozed off,” I said unpacking his order. My basket was enchanted to hold far more than should be possible, so I was able to pull out enough truffles for the small army he appeared to have with him.

“Their presence has put me into a doze more times than I care to admit,” Ganintallow said. He motioned for some servants to come and take his order from me, and another elderly witch with a long beard that had turned white gave me a small chest that hummed from the bottles of magical energy within. I opened the chest briefly to make certain he hadn’t over or under paid. There was a lot more wind captured in bottles, and a few bits of perfectly happy moments that had solidified into silver, then usual and a little less lightning than normal. Each of the bottles and bits of silvery energy had an agreed upon value. Most of the wealth of fairyland was exchanged through magical trade, rather than the few silver coins the kings and queens minted.

“I hope you’ll excuse me,” Ganintallow said with another bow to me. He climbed back onto the dog and rode off. As he did I caught a glimpse of Noreen and realized he hadn’t bowed to her at all. It rankled me. I mean, I didn’t mind if someone didn’t bow to us at all, most didn’t but he’d deliberately chosen to bow to me and not to her as a clear snub. Noreen was a Countess of the Pixies and did out rank me.

“It’s okay,” Noreen said, clearly seeing the concern on my face. “There’s still a lot of problems from both sides of the border. If the worst the Fareesee do is refuse to acknowledge me, I consider myself lucky.”

I flew on my spear to make a few more deliveries in the Fareesee Kingdom, before flying out of the lake crossing back into Pixie territory. Fareesee still lived here, such as the Mrs. B who I would be visiting later, but in the Pixie kingdoms they chose to live in the forests, just as the Pixies in Fareesee Kingdoms did. In either case most of the Fey lived in the moorlands and fields.

There were non-magical humans picnicking near the road, just on the edge of a batch of trees. I held my breath as I hurried past them, remaining invisible as long as I did so. A smuggler’s spell my Grandfather Elric had taught me. Noreen was lucky, as with all Fey she didn’t have to hold her breath to become invisible to ordinary people.  Of course, unlike her, I didn’t actually have to avoid being seen by ordinary people but being seen by humans were unaware of the magical world always felt awkward. They always thought my robes and pointed hat looked so strange and would stare or ask me what costume party I was going to. For my part I never understood how they could stand to dress as they did. They wore barely function pants and shirts without very many pockets. It all seemed rather silly. How would they carry a sword or jars of food, or other things they might need in those cloths?

“Go away!” Erra’s angry shout echoed through the fields ahead of us and Noreen giggled. Although we couldn’t see the Bogle yet, we’d heard his voice often enough to know it was him.

“Sounds like he’s having fun,” Noreen said.

I grunted as we stepped up over some lumpy land on the edge of a field. As a Bogle Erra, like many others, felt it was his responsibility to ensure the harvest of the farm where he lived, which meant he was constantly stomping around it with his big feet, chasing mice away from the grain. He looked a bit like a lanky teddy bear with a bushy beard. Out of the corner of my eye I could see another Bogle, Farrest, watching from a thicket of bushes.

“It’s a record year for the vermin,” Erra said, still trying to shoo the mice out of the field with his feet. “And the crows,” He shuddered, “So many crows, it might as well be cloudy half the time.”

I nodded and smiled internally as I pulled out his order. He said something similar every year. If he was to be believed, each year had such an increase in vermin that we should all be drowning in them by now.

“What are you doing?” Another Bogle, Farrest, screamed from the bushed, before stomping rapidly through the field towards us, his oversized feet thumping like a racing heart. All part of his trick to be scary as possible. I’m somewhat embarrassed to say that it worked. I could feel my heart starting to pound in my chest. There are a hundred little things about Bogles that can set one on edge and Farrest was a master of all of them. Expression, voice, movement, all swirled together to heighten the fear of those who he was angry with, or simply trying to scare for fun. My hand itched to snatch up my wand, but this was his land I was on, so I held off on doing anything.

“Have you forgotten that she’s our enemy?” Farrest said, glowering between me and Erra.

My free hand actually touched the wand in my robes at that point, just in case I needed to fend off an attack.

Lord Wymond has hired her to cater his party tonight,” Erra said defensively.

“Stephen, the youngest son of the true Lord Wymond is soft,” Farrest said, “probably won’t last longer than a gooey turd in the rain.”

Now there was a metaphor. I had to hand it to Bogles, like the Pixies, they had such an earthy way of discussing the world. It was, however, disturbing that he’d essentially declared that the new Lord Stephen Wymond was going to have his reign cut short. Farrest ranted on a little longer about wars past as if they were the good old days and how it was impossible to tell who the heroes were anymore since ninnies who made chocolate and hired their father’s enemies could rise through the ranks.

Ninnies? Who uses the word ninnies? I wondered if that sounded as silly to Bogles as it did to me, because it wasn’t exactly projecting the hardened warrior image the Bogle was going for. While he ranted, I did my best to appear neutral. Not sure what good it did with a Bogle who clearly hated me but being a constant diplomate had been drilled into me by my mother, so my passive face was practically automatic in situations like this. Noreen, however, was rolling her eyes, while also looking angry as a cat whose catnip had been taken by a dog.

I let Farrest rant a little longer before excusing myself. He continued to rant as I walked away. I discreetly let Erra see that I was placing his order outside the mound of grass that was the door into his underground home, before continuing on.

“What a dung heap,” Noreen exclaimed when we were gone, her expression still seething. “I was just about ready to challenge him to a duel to knock him off his delusion horse.”

“We’re supposed to be trying to make peace with Lord Stephen Wymond’s bannermen, not embarrassing them publicly,” I told her. Even if it would be hilarious to watch the little Pixies zap the ranting bogle with a few spells.

“Peace through respect.” Noreen said. “Sometimes you’ve got to remind these young hotheads to show some manners.”

It didn’t happen very often but every once in a while, Noreen said something that reminded me that she was thousands of years old. Even if she did prefer to act childish most of the time. For my part I was just glad that there was only one more delivery for the day. I finally had the chance to get an early dinner, or a late lunch or later breakfast, given that my stomach was reprimanding me for having forgotten both those meals.

My last delivery was to Laal. A fairy who’d been a waitress at Brooksway, my favorite place to eat food that I didn’t have to cook. She had finally saved enough to build the perfumery that she was getting ready to open for the first time. She sat teetering atop a short ladder singing in her beautiful voice, all be it too loudly and a little too enthusiastically in Danish to be an enjoyable performance for an audience. She looked like she was having a blast however. The two-foot-tall fairy had a cute but vaguely troll like face and was currently painting bright patterns on the rain gutters about nine feet off the ground. The perfumery was tiny The paint on sign declaring this as Laal’s Perfumery looked to be still slightly damp and different from her previous attempts at signs I’d seen. Not better or worse, just different enough to let me know she’d made a few different signs.

Hello,” Laal I called a greeting. “I’ve got your order.”

“Thank garters and stars,” Laal said as she clambered down the ladder, her blue dress swishing as she came, the paint brush now tucked in the side of her mouth like a pipe. “I mean I knew you would have it here on time.” She said quickly as I pulled out her order, the paint brush in her mouth bobbing with her speach. “But.”

“Opening a business is stressful,” I finished for her, understanding. Well sort of understanding. She’d sunk ten years of scrimping and saving into opening her perfume shop. I’d never done anything quite like that. My business was part of my family’s business going back a thousand years. I couldn’t even imagine the work and anxiety that went into a business like this.

“Sometimes it feels like the butterflies in my stomach are going to, whoop, carry me off to the moon,” Laal said. “I hope the opening goes well. I mean the Duke is coming and everything.”

“Duke Stephen Wymond?” I asked somewhat surprised. The previous duke had barely noticed those on his lands, other than to collect rents from them, of course. “Is he some sort of fan of fashion or fragrances?”

She nodded then shrugged. “He’s coming. I’m not sure about the fashion thing, but I was looking into opening in the Fareesee kingdom when he showed up and offered to invest in my shop, so I opened here.”

That truly was surprising. I never would have imagined that the previous Duke Wymond could have a son that cared about anything other than war and wealth. He had murdered his own friend so he could begin raiding his neighbors. I chewed on my lip, wondering if the Duke had an ulterior motive. It probably wasn’t a good sign that I was so cynical about everything.

I hadn’t quite given up trying to figure out what the Duke might be up to but after a few moments of thought I acknowledge to myself that I couldn’t think of what devious plan he could possibly have with regards to having a perfumery open on his lands.

“Speaking of the Duke,” Noreen said. “We’re going to his party tonight. Have any fragrances that say, sorry we threw your pops in jail?”

Laal frowned for a moment before whispering, “Oh dear.” Trust Noreen to turn the conversation awkward. I mean, I was interested if there was such a scent, but I doubted the way I smelled would have too much of an impact in smoothing things out. Honestly, I was still so nervous about the fact that he’d asked me to cater his event I didn’t think I’d be able to fully appreciate any scent.

“You said something about how citrus would work for me,” I said after a bit more awkward silence than I liked.

Laal shook her head. “Citrus is too strong, too bold, and in control. You don’t want to appear overly bold when you’re trying to appear sympathetic or apologetic.”

“Unless we’ve been invited to the party so the new Duke can attack us,” Noreen pointed out.

We both gave her a sour look, to which she shrugged. “I’m just saying. The previous Lord Wymond is going to have bannermen there, all with swords and wands, all who have friends in jail because of us. Projecting strength might not be the worst thing.”

I bobbed my head with indecision.

“Noreen has something resembling a point I suppose,” Laal admitted like she was tasting something truly terrible. “Before we decide what fragrance you should wear, we need to know what you want to say. Speaking of which, what clothes are you wearing?”

“I brought my dresses to Mrs. Bakelsdale’s. I’m going to change there, probably in about two hours.”

“I’ll come by,” Laal said.

I shook my head. “You’re far too busy.”

“Pish.” Laal interrupted. Far more assertive now that she was about to own a business than she had been as a waitress. “You always tipped well. And you’ll tell everyone how wonderful I am.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“Besides,” Laal continued. “It’ll give me a chance to surprise B unprepared before our book club meets.” Laal paused for a moment, her eyes growing thoughtful. “I’m thinking floral for friendly maybe some wooden notes to project a touch of power.”

“I’m definitely leaning towards friendly and meek,” I told her.

We chatted about possible fragrances a little longer before I finally left to meet Larkin for supper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not surprisingly Brooksway rested alongside a beautiful little brook that hovered in the place between fairyland and the human world. I was walking along this, to avoid flying in the human world where I might be seen, when I spotted the new Reeve, Sir Shipsy, a tall gangly witch whose familiar preferred the form of a viper. Sir Shipsy’s snake had become a popular tongue twister among local children. He was behind a tree, obviously waiting to ambush those he thought might be breaking the law as they came by. Yet, I’d noticed him easily enough.

I’d never seen Reeve Humphry coming. Just one more reason Shipsy wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Reeve Humphry had been, although like his predecessor he still felt the need to harass me every chance he got. Neither of them could seem to understand that despite the fact that the Burry side of my family was all criminals, that didn’t mean I was. I would have thought that my having helped catch Reeve Humphry’s murderer would have given me some latitude.  

I sighed. “What do you think Noreen, should I just avoid him and go on to have a pleasant Sir Shipsy’s snake free supper.” See perfect tongue twister.

“I’m betting he’s here just to try talking to you,” Noreen said. “Your route has obviously become too predictable.”

Darn. She was probably right. I’d been enjoying the sound and smell of the brook so often of late I’d set myself up for this. If I avoided him now, he’d just show up to my house and bug me there. The ancient laws by which the Fey lived didn’t prevent him from coming into my kitchen whenever he felt like it. He could even strip search me if he wanted. Although there were some things even a snake wouldn’t do.

Like plucking a splinter, sometimes it was best to get meetings with Shipsy over with, so I went down to be searched as part of our weekly routine.

I strode towards Shipsy and even acted surprised when he popped out at me, that way he wouldn’t think I’d just hidden something I was smuggling before approaching.

“If it isn’t the infamous moonraker’s daughter,” he said as he stroked his snake familiar’s head. I could smell from here that he’d made liberal use of a painful smelling cologne and I wondered how his familiar could stand to be so close to him. Noreen had already backed outside of envelope of stink he was emitting.

“Moonraker’s granddaughter,” I said. “My mother, the current Lady Gaveston is famous for hosting important events and making the best horderves in Wiltshire.”

He sneered. Reeve Humphry would have had a comeback. I hadn’t liked the banter while he searched my basket and had me empty my pockets, but he’d been smart enough to do it. This one replaced intelligent quips with looks like he was a child angry that he was being forced to finish his vegetables.

“Your mother’s famous for being a gold digger,” he said after he’d finished searching my basket and was halfway through my myriad of pockets. That was one of the few things he could say that would truly infuriate me. I might have my rows with my Mother, but she did care about Wiltshire, and I certainly didn’t accept the idea that she’d married ‘above’ herself.

“I hear crime has nearly doubled in the past four months,” I said to him. A reminder that he was failing at his job and it was becoming obvious.

He glowered at me, too slow to respond with a quippy come back. Humphry would have.

“I was talking to the Fareesee Queen,” I continued, reminding him that I did indeed have important friends. “And she was saying they were thinking of requesting some changes,” I continued after a little while. “Oh, and my dear,” I continued imitating the Queen’s voice, “since you do deliver chocolate to so many, could you keep an ear out for other opinions, perhaps someone that Knight your dating knows. He seems to be the only competent person enforcing the peace right now.”

Shipsy froze for a second, then handed back the knife he’d been examining and let me go. Humprhy never would have stopped what he was doing based on a name drop, but Shipsy was obsessed with position and power. Just another reason to hate him. A Reeve should be above such things, but at least it had let me escape from the swamp slime Sir Shipsy – see another tongue twister, so easy to think up.

 

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The Brooksway Restaurant rested on the border between the human and fairy worlds, such that a passing person in the human world might see the faintest glow of a light from its window. Some might even detect the heavenly aroma of food inside. Because of buildings like this normal people who weren’t a part of the magical world had passed around stories for generations about haunted moorlands, and I suppose, in a way they were haunted.

The waiter who’d replaced Laal was a Fareesee boy named Mashta, probably a few years younger than me, who loved to flirt with Noreen. It was sort of amusing for me to watch. Noreen found it a mixture of cute and annoying all rolled together.

“If it isn’t the most lovey hero of Wiltshire,” Mashta greeted Noreen, while nodding to me. Noreen smiled at him. Her face was extremely expressive, so I presume she found him amusing for the moment.

He had the form of something that looked like an anthropomorphic cross between hummingbird and penguin. An odd look to say the least, I hadn’t seen another Fareesee or fey of any kind take it. Never-the-less he’d likely use some of his magic to appear in the form of handsome hedgehog when he came to serve Noreen dinner. Many of the Fey could morph their forms with relative ease which is why the best way to figure out who they were with a sixth sense, rather than by how they looked.

“I don’t think I’m much of a hero here on the Wymond estates,” Noreen told him

“You are a hero, and I suppose your witch is too,” Mashta said. “The new Duke wouldn’t be in place without your efforts. He’s cut our taxes and lent us money at no interest so that we can expand our business.”

“Really?” I asked. This new duke was getting more and more likable by the moment. Most every other duke felt their influence came from money and so were desperate to squeeze every ounce of taxes they could from those who lived on their estates. They certainly didn’t make interest free loans.

“Yep,” Mashta said as he led us back to an alcove where Kotish was already waiting. We reserved this spot so Larkin and I could talk privately. Not many were supposed to know I gathered information to help him.

“My boss was so ecstatic by the Duke’s generosity,” Mashta continued. “She always wanted to make a basement down into the under realms, so we can expand our customers to those deep in fairyland. And create an indoor waterfall. A romantic place where couples can go all googly eyed at the scenery and each other.” He said this last part with a brief but obviously adoring look at Noreen.

“Sounds lovely,” Noreen said, clearly trying not to laugh.

Kotish greeted Noreen with a kiss and an all too pointed look at Mashta. That did make me smile. He actually seemed jealous of the overly enthusiastic boy.

“Did you order for us?” Noreen asked Kotish who nodded.

We usually didn’t know how long we’d have to eat, and we didn’t much care for waiting so whoever got here typically ordered in advance from a list we made up. It made things so much easier and gave him something to do while he waited for us to get our almost perpetually late selves to the restaurant.

“I’m assuming Larkin hasn’t gotten here yet?” I asked.

Kotish shook his head, then he and Noreen started talking sweet nothings, demonstrating the whole googly eyes thing that Mashta had talked about, no waterfall necessary. Larkin was even more perpetually late than Noreen and me. As knight errant it was his job to hunt monsters, which meant he could just up and leave the wilderness whenever he felt like it. I presumed the fact that he hadn’t sent a message meant he would still get here soon . I helped him on more than one occasion, in secret, preferring to keep my anonymity as a chocolatier in public and ninja type thing away from prying eyes. Thus, the reason I’d made a private nook as my regular spot.

Without a partner at the table where Noreen and Kotish were being all romantic I felt sort of awkward. Double dating isn’t really fun until your date arrives, so I made my way to the currently open windows. A few plucky crickets and frogs had started singing, even though it was still a long way from night and on occasion they were joined by a unicorn calling for love. At least that’s what I imagined it was given the setting with the brook and the hummingbirds, and wild Fey right outside the window. It was all so perfect I didn’t understand why they would need a waterfall? The windows were definitely the most romantic place to eat. One couple was over doing the mushy speeches so much I almost felt like giggling. I hoped Larkin and I weren’t that oblivious on our dates, but I presumed if we were, Noreen would have been teasing us outrageously about it.

Despite my early concerns about being too gooey eyed in public, I did feel my chest swoop when I saw Larkin approaching. His short blond hair and Knightly robes framed his chiseled face perfectly, always made my heart pitter patter. Unfortunately. the robes made it a little harder to notice his perfect sleek muscles.

I was able to feel those muscles when we kissed, however.

Oh yeah, I was defiantly smitten.

We’d been dating for the five months since we’d arrested the original Duke Wymond together.  and it has been spectacular.

“Do I look okay?” Larkin asked as we made our way to the table. I pretended to inspect him, even making him twirl once for me, just for kicks. He gave me a bemused smile as he did it. I was tempted to see if I could get him twirl all the way back to the table but resisted.

How did he always look so polished and smell so good? I wondered. Seriously, he’d been camping in the wilds, searching for dangerous creatures, since moving here. He bathed in rivers and streams. I lost the previous train of thought for a moment to imagine him out their bathing in rivers, washing his knight’s robes, his hair glistening in the sunlight.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Larkin said as we sat down. “With the unicorns calling in the woods the number fey camping out has increased, giving me a lot more to protect. Worse some of them are using the unicorns as an excuse to make more cross-border raids.”

“Why is it men always see unicorns as a call to war?” Noreen asked, crinkling her nose.

“They often were,” Kotish told her. “Before the battles of the Silver Deer and the Sun Bird those who saw a unicorn won great victories.” The battles in question referred to the different forms that unicorn’s might take, other than their standard white horse and had been fought up in Scotland and in France respectively, but were famous enough that we’d heard of them.

“I saw a ladybug before I helped capture Duke Wymond,” Noreen said. “That doesn’t mean it gave me victory.”

I smiled. Noreen had such a romantic view of unicorns she couldn’t stand the idea that they were involved in war, but we didn’t really know anything about them, so perhaps they did help bring victory in battle.

Larkin shrugged. “Seeing a unicorn was far more spiritual than that for me. It was my call to knighthood” he paused to think, expression distant, dreamy even, the way they were when anyone who has actually seen a unicorn talks about the experience. “I’m not sure how to put it into words exactly.” His voice quivered with emotion.

“You’ve seen a unicorn?” I asked in a whisper.

“In the form of a white boar. It led me, flitting in and out of hiding, as they do.”

“To where,” I asked holding my breath.

“Dozmary Pool,” Larkin said

“What!?” I said. “Wait. Let me get this straight. A unicorn led you to the lake where Excalibur was left. And you never thought to tell me?

“I thought I just did?” He said with a shrug.

“Men!” Noreen said in an exasperated tone, rolling her eyes.

“Honestly, it just felt like such a private moment,” Larkin said with a calm earnestness to his voice. “Something I wouldn’t share with anyone but someone I loved.”

My heart fluttered. This wasn’t the first time he’d told me he loved me, and he hadn’t even said so directly, but it still made me feel happy to hear it again. I kissed him on impulse and smiled. Not really caring that he’s also told two others. We sat quietly for a few moments, before I realized we still had business to discuss.

“I’d like your help negotiating with a giant tomorrow,” Larkin said. “If you have time.”

The food arrived before I could respond, and I took a few bites of food while the waiter asked us if there was anything else, allowing Larkin to tell them no while I ate.

“I can make some time,” I told him after swallowing some food. “What’s the giant’s deal?”

“He’s been ripping the roofs off people’s homes to see what’s inside. If no one’s home he takes what he wants,” Larkin said with a shrug. “It’s a problem, but I’d rather avoid a fight, so I was thinking you could try stealing his sword before we confronted him.”

“You’re such a soft touch,” Noreen said, she hadn’t bothered swallowing the food I was still eating.

“Some giant’s are still just a little stuck in the past, but he hasn’t hurt anyone,” Larkin said with a shrug.

Many giants lived in a far deeper part of fairyland, where few witches or even non wild fey had ever ventured. Their ideas about ownership didn’t really exist, because the giants had no homes, so they didn’t comprehend why ripping the roofs off houses was bad. Yes, they knew that some animals denned in nests and caves, but they ate those animals, so it wasn’t like they were worried about squirrel or badger privacy.

“I like that Larkin prefers to resolve differences with the Wild Fey without resorting to charging in with a lance and a war cry like a senile Don Quixote,” I said.

“I’ve been doing a lot more charging of late,” Larkin said with a sigh. “The Spriggans have made it as far north as Cheshire, and most everyone is blaming Wiltshire, specifically the Pixie kingdom for it.

I worried my lip. Spriggans, unlike wild giants new what they were doing, even enjoyed being thought of as bandits. It was Larkin’s job to hunt down those ghosts of giants who had turned to banditry, but he was supposed to get more support from the Reeve and deputies than he was. “

“Mostly the Reeves’ incompetence,” Noreen said bitterly, echoing my sentiments.

Larkin shook his head. “He could be competent, but he lacks focus. The fact that the first thing he did was befriend Prince Therot tells me he’s more interested in politics and wealth than actually doing his job.”

I scowled. It has become my own personal mission to catch Prince Therot doing something illegal. The prince had already used his position to bribe a magistrate once, in order to get out of jail time. He was an incredibly self-centered twit. “I thought Reeve Humphry had at least some notes indicating that he considered Therot a criminal.”

“Slimy, Snaky, Sir Shipsy doesn’t care about that,” Noreen interjected.

“Are you the one coming up with all those tongue twisters for kids to mock him with?” Larkin asked.

“Would I do something like that?” Noreen asked, batting her eyes innocently at him.

“Yes. Yes you would,” Larkin responded, with a very defiant smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mrs. Bakelsdale was a Fareesee living in the forests of the Pixie Lands, as did most of the Fareesee who remained in the South. The Fey of Britain preferred to live in the Moorlands and fields, so one could often tell which Fey were outsiders in their kingdom by their choice to live sheltered in the forests. Despite being a Fareesee in a Pixie Kingdom, Mrs. B had become something of a center for the community gossip.

Today Mrs. B was clearly taking advantage of the sun to play outside with her twenty-some-odd cats. At the moment she was scolding a particularly large Tom, who’s head stood nearly as tall as her two-foot frame, for taking something from the newest stray kitten she’d taken in. She looked so much like my Grandmother Lady Gaveston (the traditional noble, not the pirate) I had to smile. My smile turned into a laugh when she put her hands on her hips to glare at the kitten. The laugh gave away the fact that I was watching the interaction.

“Oh, hello dear,” Mrs. B said, looking up at me.

“Hello Mrs. B,” I greeted her, as did Noreen and Larkin.

“Sorry you saw that,” Mrs. B said. “The cats are just getting super antsy. They think we’re going to have piles of rain and snow this winter and I’ll keep them locked away.”

“So, they’re getting cabin fever in advance?” Larkin asked.

“Yes,” Mrs. B said with an exasperated voice. “On the upside there will be plenty of lightning for you dear, such an abundance that the value is dropping,” Mrs. B told me. She traded me bottles of lightning for my chocolate. “Now Tom,” she said to the large tom cat, clearly not having strained creativity in naming him. “You’re supposed to be watching out for Bill, he’s the littlest after all. Otherwise I’ll have to bring you all inside when I go.”

The cat meowed innocently at her, and unlike me she seemed to actually believe him. She hugged Tom around the neck, a move that made her seem small next to his head, they were close to the same size. Honestly, I doubted I could have been friends with cats if I were a small as they were. I’d be far too nervous they’d feel scratchy.

“Such a good boy,” Mrs. B said.

“Laal’s coming to help me choose a perfume,” I told Mrs. B as we went in.

“That will be lovely,” Mrs. B said. “I’ve just finished reading the book and I’m hoping I can stump her with a few questions.”

I didn’t bother telling her that Laal was planning to try the same thing.

In order to enter Mrs. B’s burrow I had to make myself smaller. She had a wood canopy hanging far out over the door so she could sit outside and watch the world no matter the weather. The inside of her house was tidy, filled with knickknacks from centuries of collecting pottery, dishes, and art.

She had a pot of tea warming and a few cookies, a little hardened, probably from having been cooked a smidge longer than necessary but still okay and I certainly couldn’t complain. The trouble she had with cooking was why she bought food from me once in a while, after all. That and fairies need food prepared by a human for some of their meals. It’s a magical nutritional requirement for most magical species.

“So, have you heard about that lad, Jacob Hal, in the village?” Mrs. B said as she started to pour the tea. She had an obsession with gossip and the mortal humans that lived around us. As a consequence, I knew far more than I’d care to about every affair and argument that happened in the villages nearby.

I shook my head, knowing that there was a good chance I’d know his entire life story if I didn’t find a way to cut her off or change the subject politely.

“He was arrested for hacking,” she said. “Which a few years ago I thought meant they were chopping inside little vaults that people were shipping from one place to another.” She made a chopping motion with her hand. “It turns out it has to do with using calm-pew-turs to steal information or just to cause trouble.” She shrugged uncertainty. “I guess hacking is like normal person magic, but you have to be really smart to do it, or something.”

I nodded. I guess that description would serve. Honestly, I couldn’t say much. I hadn’t learned very much about mundane tech either. Magic created electric pulses that could ruin such things with enough exposure. Other than B, my primary source of information were magical mirrors that allowed us to watch movies without the need for electronics.

“Police were all at his family’s house with their lights flashing,” Mrs. B continued. “His mother, poor dear, must have been so embarrassed. How could anyone do that to their mother? Kids these days, no respect.”

This was a common ending for her gossip, of course. If a kid got into trouble it was because of their age and their actions reflected on all ‘kids.’ Although anyone under thirty-five qualified as a kid to Mrs. B, sometime even people in their forties did. For all I knew this Jacob might be fifty.

“Where can I get ready?” I asked. I loved talking to Mrs. B, sometimes, but it was always best if I could keep her on a less gossipy track.

“Right. I was looking over your dresses,” Mrs. B said as she led us to the back. I’d never been this far into her house before and was surprised how big it was, the hall she led me into had a dozen doors leading off to the side. “you can get ready in there,” she told Larkin pointing to a door at the beginning of the hall before continuing on. I smiled and shrugged at him. He was already ready, I hoped he’d brought a book to read or a mirror to watch movies and shows through, while Mrs. B fussed over me. “It seems to me that the robes Thena made for you three Christmases ago would work best.”

I tried to recall which robes those were exactly. I imagined they had to be fairly conservative if Mrs. B thought they would work, and I suddenly worried that her and Laal would begin arguing with each other about how I should present myself when the latter got here.

“Prince Therot is definitely on the war path,” Mrs. B said. “He was screaming and Lord Stephen Wymond. Saying he was poaching his taxes.”

“Really?” I asked. I knew the Pixie prince had been trying to get the previous Duke to pay taxes, despite the fact that their treaty said the Duke didn’t owe any, but he’d been subtitle enough about it. I hadn’t known about it until I’d snuck into the Prince’s office to see if there was anything in there that would prove he was a murderer.

Mrs. B nodded. “Oh yes. And he’s going to be at the party, and you know you and that boy of yours might end up having to pull them apart if it comes to blows.”

“Great, what a fun filled evening this is shaping up to be,” I said with a deep sigh. I was briefly tempted to let the fight continue, I bet the Ettin could crush the pampered prince and that might be amusing to watch. Sadly, if anyone was too badly hurt it could lead to war, rather than an arrest.

“Did Stephen have a good response?” Noreen asked.

Mrs. B flashed her a disapproving frown. Likely disliking the informal way Noreen talked about the Duke who was practically the King in this section of the Pixie lands. That is, was essentially Mrs. B’s King.

“Mentioned that the Colt Pixies in Hampshire don’t have to pay taxes,” Mrs. B said. “Threatened that if the Prince tried to force the issue with him the Colt Pixies would likely take it as a threat to their own tax-free status and declare war as well.”

I rubbed my eyes. The Pixies were my kingdom, and we were surrounded by potential enemies who might forget any peace treaty we had with them if a civil war broke out. “Why does Therot have to try hitting the preverbal hornets’ nest?”

Mrs. B frowned at me now for not including Therot’s title when I said his name. She probably wouldn’t be thrilled by the colorful names I used when talking about him with Noreen in private.

Mrs. B led me into a large sewing room, scattered with half-finished robes and dresses. I wasn’t certain why there were so many unfinished items of clothing, but then, I rarely sewed myself so maybe this was just part of the process? Mrs. B grabbed a set of cream and fawn brown robes, accented with soft straw, woven together like baskets around the waist and hem, with swirling Celtic patterns on them. I was surprised to find that Mrs. B’s choice actually made some sense. It was meek, yet the earthy magic in it reminded everyone that I was a witch from a family who could break some heads if it needed to and the fact that it had been made by another Duchess, all be it a tax paying one, showed that I had the support of powerful Fey. The dress even brought me some comfort, reminding me that some of those powerful friends of mine would be attending this event.

There was a knock at the door and Mrs. B hurried off to answer.

“I bet Laal will insist you try on a different set of robes,” Noreen said. She smiled. “You’re going to be like a warrior-princess doll for a pair of old fey.”

I groaned. I wasn’t certain doll was the right word. Child that they dress for Halloween in cute outfits would be more like it. Or perhaps cute cat that she stuffs into costume after costume in Mrs. B’s case.

“I could just insist that you wear the outfit Bakelsdale picked out for you,” Noreen offered.

Familiar’s were technically in charge of the witch they worked with. Noreen could potentially save me with a pronouncement like that. It was a tempting offer but Mrs. B had returned with Laal before I could say anything.. As feared, Laal pursed her lips uncertainly when she saw the dress I was holding.

“Sort of recalls the Pixie magic a little too much, don’t you think?” Laal asked.

“Duke Wymond is sort of a vassal of the Pixies, and Lady Winfred Gaveston absolutely is” Mrs. B said. She hadn’t used my full name and title since I was tiny, and then it had been more in a cute way. Now she sounded aggressive about it.

“Duke Wymond is having disagreements with the Pixie’s Prince,” Laal replied a little too playful sounding. “Winifred probably shouldn’t appear to be taking the Pixie’s side at the Duke’s party.”

Crickets I cursed internally. Laal had made a very good point. Good enough that despite the scowl she was wearing Mrs. B didn’t say anything as Laal started searching through my dresses. I really shouldn’t have brought so many to look at. I mean, how much did it really matter what I wore? Would the Duke or the Prince really think enough about my robes to decide to make friends based on them? It was too late to stop what was happening, however.

A pink dress with real red rose petals was Laal’s first choice. Low cut in the front, with pieces taken out of the side.  

“Do you have belly lint for brains,” Mrs. B asked through her teeth. “She doesn’t want to show up looking flirty and fun. That dress is so lighthearted it kind of says, I put your dad in jail, tee hee.” This last part was said with something of an extra vapid expression.

The next dress was too reminiscent of the bogles, and it might look like I was siding with Wymond, which could upset the Pixies. The next was too Teg, Welsh fairies who had ruled these lands two thousand years ago. Did anyone still worry about that? Apparently, Laal thought they should. Mrs. B pointed out that she was from Denmark and didn’t really understand. Meanwhile I was looking around desperately for a set of robes that they both would be okay with or hate so much that it would distract them from their impending argument. Noreen was chuckling to herself. I scowled at my familiar who shrugged and nodded to a simple white robe with a few flowers and magic from the witch’s collage near Oxfordshire that I’d attended. Thank goodness I’d gone to college in a foreign country with very little political controversy locally. The robe represented the witches, which I was, and was conservative enough to satisfy Mrs. B while new enough that Mrs. Laal, while not excited about it, would probably let it pass.

Enjoy a little chaos and mischief she might, but Noreen could always be counted on to rescue me when it actually mattered. I nodded and Noreen picked it up and told me to wear it. When she so publicly told me to wear the dress it would be nearly impossible for me to argue and thus nearly impossible for the others to do so either. Besides, I could tell they appreciated the choice. That was when Laal popped open the trunk of fragrances she’d brought along, and I started to wonder if I’d ever get out of there. They were currently agreed that the primary fragrance should be rose but were debating what to pair it with. Ten minutes in I thought my little brother Jack had saved me from their discussion with his delivery of the non-chocolate foods my family had prepared for the party. As always, he looked extremely fastidious, his hair perfect, his robes creased and pressed like he was a soldier.

“The rose is the national flower of England, and Pixies are from Cornwall,” Jack pointed after he’d listened to the discussion for a few moments. He took a sip of tea, an amused, almost smug look on his sixteen-year-old face that I had the sudden urge to strangle off him. Mrs. B and Laal had both been ready to agree that rose should be the center of the fragrance I would wear.

Jack’s own familiar, who chose to take a sparrow form, winked at me and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I’m super jealous,” Jack told me while Mrs. B and Laal started debating what other direction they could take my fragrance. I heard them say that Heather, the flower of the Pixies, mixed with Rose would be too obvious.

“Jealous?” I asked.

“I wanted to help cater this party, but Mom wouldn’t let me,” Jack said.

“Nothing like the threat of a sudden attack to spice up a party,” Noreen said.

“This one’s a little more spice than I like,” I told them. “I mean, I’m used to having to wear swords, wands, and potions to stop someone from bleeding when I go to a party but walking into a known enemy’s home seems a bit much.”

“So wicked,” Jack said with a gleam in his eye. “I can’t even deliver food far from home yet.”

I decided pointing out that he was only sixteen would be redundant. He’d heard he wasn’t old enough to try navigating the challenges of our political world, much less the potential dangers from Wild Fey that roamed the countryside often enough.

He jumped back into back into Mrs. B and Laal’s debate which centered around the fact that violet could represent the region as a whole, being a very traditional perfume, but it might make me smell like an old lady.

“Apple also represents all of the West,” Jack said. “It could help give violet a fresh kick.”

“Violet and apple?” Mrs. B asked incredulously.

Laal’s eyes widened and she’d started mixing a new fragrance.

“The apple will smell fresh, vibrant, but remind everyone of home, or the pub where they meet their friends,” Jack said.

Mrs. B didn’t look entirely convinced but didn’t appear to want to argue with Jack so she waited the few moments for Laal to mix the perfume together.

“Added a little musk and a touch of rose and heather each,” Laal said as she let us each sniff at it. The smell was very good, and perhaps most importantly, not likely to set off some political minefield.

“How are you so good at this?” Laal asked Jack as she went back and started experimenting with the fragrance further.

“I make pies, cupcakes, scones, and sometimes you just need a break from the usual flavors,” Jack said and I felt pride swell inside me. That was my little brother, the brother I’d taught how to cook. Well me and Grandmother Gaveston

“Hmm, maybe I should ask for you instead of your Aunt next time,” Laal said.

“That might help get me more work a bit further from our keep, so I’d be delighted,” Jack told her.

Things went far easier for Larkin who wore the robes of a Knight Errant. They were automatically meant to be neutral. Besides, he looked especially gallant in them. The robes recalled Arthur and everybody in Britain loved him. Even the unicorns loved the Arthur and the knights, apparently leading knights to spots important to them.

“What do you smell like,” Laal asked as she sniffed the air near Larkin.

Larkin shrugged. “I bathed this morning.”

Mrs. B joined tutted. “All the most regal knights had some signature fragrance. They didn’t just smell like they’d bathed in some bog then gone crawling through the woods all day.”

“That’s what knights do,” Larkin said.

“Not when they present themselves to royalty,” Mrs. B said disapprovingly. That was the end of her and Laal’s agreement for a while as they began disagreeing on possible fragrances for Larkin to wear. He looked like a rabbit that had found itself caught in a barn with cats. Not certain if he should bolt or try and stay still until they left him alone. Thankfully, the time limit rescued him so the two fey settled on something involving hawthorn and current berries and quite a few more undertones than I would have guessed. I wasn’t really paying so much attention to get all the details. We thanked the two fey for their help and they wished us luck. I told my brother to hurry home, which was perhaps a silly thing to say, but there were some monsters out at night.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, now that the most difficult part of the evening is over,” Larkin whispered and I chuckled to myself. A moment later we were whisking through the air on broom and spear. It was dark enough by now to get away with flying in the human world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wymond manner is somewhat unique among the fairy homes in that is firmly in the human realm. Most humans just happened to think that the three headed, eight foot tall Ettins that made up the Wymond family were ordinary people, given that no one could see through the feth fiada (a magical mist that hides the true nature of the magical world) without magic.

I landed at the back, the traditional servants’ entrance and was led into the kitchens by a young wizard so that I could discuss what needed to be done with Lord Wymond’s staff. Given that the last time I’d been there I’d been leading a raid of spell wielding deputies and knights it was as awkward as it sounded.

“Isn’t thyme used in meat dishes?” one of the Brownies interrupted me for the fifth time when I was explaining a peach and blackberry dessert my brother had made. The Brownie’s voice was snide, and his fuzzy face looked like he was about to be sick.

Breath, I reminded myself before I snapped at him. Noreen, looked like she was about to start screaming and I didn’t need an incident. Of course, the Brownies were unhappy. They were loyal to a fault, I bet they visited their former Lord every day in jail.

I continued to explain the food without engaging their snide and angry remarks. They were loyal, which meant they would do as their current Lord directed, even if they did make snide remarks about it. If I lost my temper, however, they were still free to attack me for it. They chose to be here, and they could choose not to be, or worse, they could choose to haunt my house. Angry brownies are far worse than ghosts.

The Hobs, most of whom looked like large mice, were attached to the land the manner was built on, more than the family, so I mostly spoke with them, while the brownies looked on disapprovingly and continued to give the food negative reviews.

It was an affectation of my position as witch whose family had obtained noble status for our cooking that once I had given directions to the staff on how to present the food my family had cooked, I had to fly back around the manor and enter through the main entrance so I could be received by the party’s host.

Noreen was still seething when we found Larkin waiting in the front.

“We should have burned this festering maggot farm when their previous Lord turned traitor!” Noreen spluttered, thankfully still far enough away from the entrance that no one could hear us.

“I take I you had a lot of fun preparing the food,” Larkin said, he was glowering dangerously, apparently taking his cue to be furious on my behalf from Noreen.

Crickets, I cursed internally. Larkin and Noreen were both so – aggressive – about their outrage when it came to how others treated me, and I needed tonight to go off without a hitch

“It was just strange working in a kitchen other than my own,” I said diplomatically. “You know how grouchy my own family’s Brownie is. I’m used to it.”

Larkin’s posture seemed to ease a little. “I know you sneak into your own house when you get home late, so you won’t accidently interrupt his beauty sleep.”

Noreen laughed. “No about of sleep could make him beautiful.” Noreen liked to laugh about the old Brownie. I think she thought being grouchy was a cardinal sin. “But Winifred is evading what happened inside,” Noreen finished.

“Of course I am,” I agreed as brightly as I could. “Shall we go in? It would be rude to keep our host waiting much longer.” I took a deep breath and turned to hurry in before they could say too much more about how rude the Brownies had been. I loved them, but sometimes it was best to shepherd them along before they could get into trouble.

Colorful fabric had been hung from the walls; I presume to cover the worst of the damage from the last time I’d been there. Arresting a Duke and his army had required a two-day siege, with an army of deputies from London. The local law enforcement had been unhappy with Larkin’s choice to involve foreigners but he’d been worried that Duke Wymond might have corrupted some of them, we still didn’t know that he hadn’t.  

The guards, a pair of bogles, appeared out of cracks in the stone to eye me warily as I approached. They did open the door for us, even though they looked like they would much rather run me through with their spears. We stepped into the receiving room, greeted by a giant mirror that was directly across from the door. That seemed like an interesting choice. I wondered if it was one way, allowing more guards to watch us from the other side? There were also the paintings and other luxurious ornaments, but the home, existing primarily in the human world wasn’t as stunning as those of fairyland, where the rules of physics and modern aesthetic taste could easily be ignored.

There, at the center of the room, which was just to the right of the entrance sat Lord Stephen Wymond, as with all Ettins he had three heads, each with their own personality. There were a dozen Pixies in his honor guard, and a wizard with him who looked as nervous as I felt. He was young, and from the looks of it, hadn’t been trained how to avoid showing his emotions, or perhaps he had, and we were meant to see the anxiety? It could be a subtle reminder that we were a danger to the members of this house too. I hated these sorts of mind games. Yet here I was, playing my part in them as always.

I breathed a sigh of relief to see that his wife and two children were with him. He wouldn’t start a fight with his whole family present, would he?

Stephen rose and walked towards us, reminding me that Ettins stood over eight feet tall. His small army followed behind. I curtsied, Larkin bowed, and Duke Stephen Wymand bowed back.

“So wonderful of you to come,” Stephen Wymond’s center head said so cheerfully I suddenly felt off balance, uncertain how I should respond. “We have so much to discuss,” the left head said with its own separate nod. The Three Ettin heads might share a body and name but they each had their own personality. I always wondered if they argued with each other in private, I’d never heard of it happening in public, however.

My hands, resting so easily at my side were inches from where I’d hidden the sword and wand in my robes. I smiled in answer to his easy-going tone. “The food is being laid out for the event as we speak,” I told him. “I can assure you it’s everything you wanted.”

“Of course, of course,” the central head smiled. “I was actually talking about Baron Hethter’s estate. His lands are in terrible disrepair and I was hoping since those lands sit between your family and mine, we could help fix them up, maybe provide some money for the tenants seeking to improve or repair their houses.”

What? I really had no idea how to respond to that statement. Whatever I’d been expecting from this evening, it definitely wasn’t a conversation about repairing homes that weren’t even on Wymond’s estates. My mind started whirling to figure out his angle.  

“Where are my manners,” Stephen’s left head said. “Sit, sit.” He gestured to some chairs, waved his hand and we were offered drinks. I accepted some milk. I’d decided long ago that drinking anything hard at these kinds of parties was far too risky. “The other guests will likely arrive soon, and I’d like to at least get a little discussion in before we start.” Stephen waited until we were seated before he started talking again. “You have some of the most well-kept and beautiful estates with the happiest Fey in all of Espix (East Pixie Land). I know you don’t have a lot of excess money, but I can front most what’s needed to repair the homes on the estates, if you can help me figure out how to improve things.”

The children had started playing in the background. The game looked something like a more complex version of rock, paper, scissors, involving facial expressions from their three heads as well as hand signals

Of course, I agreed with the Duke’s request. There was no way I couldn’t agree to help him improve the homes of those living on the Baron’s lands. I mean, if all it took to make peace with him was helping those in need, how could I possibly not jump at the chance. Yet I still couldn’t comprehend what he was after. His father had always had an angle, usually one that involved some sort of violence, but I couldn’t see one here. I could see, however, why the Bogle lord had been so upset. He’d likely been one of those hoping the previous lord would lead them to another glorious war. Now the new duke was talking about ways to make cow pastures look more attractive and flower gardens than war strategies or even politics.

“Earl Carthta is here,” one of the brownies interrupted.

Stephen’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “My cousin and current heir.” Stephen said before excusing himself.

“Okay, I have to ask. What perfume are you wearing?” Lady Wymond asked, likely as nothing more than a way to fill what could be an awkward silence. As with all Ettin’s she too was wearing an overly large sword, in the open rather than in hiding.

“Laal made it for me,” I told her. “She’s opening a perfumery on your estate tomorrow.”

“Yes, my husband is attending that opening,” Lady Wymand said nodding. I could have been wrong, but I thought I detected the faintest hint of disapproval in her voice. Having three heads means that Ettins learn early how to avoid disagreeing with each other in public, unless they are truly angry. So, like everyone in my world they were far too good at hiding their true emotions for me to be certain of what they are actually feeling at any given time. I tried to remember Stephen’s wife, but couldn’t. I doubted she was from this Kingdom, her accent made me think she was born closer to York, so this was likely the first we’d met.

A few more guests had started to arrive, so left Larkin to the awkward small talk with an apologetic look, while I went to work with the aware (people who know about magic but haven’t learned to perform it) that were serving the food. Human’s always served food at Fey parties. It had to do with the magical nutrition that human work provides.

The guests stood near the center of the room, making small talk before the dancing and serious intrigues began. No one at these sort of events wanted to look too eager to eat, and so it would be a while before anyone came to the tables to get food. Still, I didn’t want to have to sprint over when they made their way here so I waited patiently.

“But you didn’t inherit,” Stephen yelled from one of the back rooms, just as the guests were arriving. “And if I have anything to say about it you never well.”

Music started playing loudly, so that the guest who were waiting in the receiving line wouldn’t hear anymore of Stephen’s ‘discussion’ with Carthta. It wasn’t necessary, as Duke Stephen Wymond emerged from the back room a moment later, all three heads smiling as if he hadn’t just been screaming at his cousin and ready to receiving his guests.

“What’s that about?” I whispered to Noreen, a pointed look towards Stephen and Carthta.

Noreen looked conspiratorial as she leaned into whisper back. “Stephen wasn’t originally supposed to inherit. His father wanted the title to go to the most skilled in combat, or some dretch. I’m betting that would be our dear Earl Carthta.”

“So why didn’t it?”

“The courts ruled that that part of the will was void,” Noreen said. “Given that the one who wrote it tried to start a war.”

Earl Carthta emerged from the room a little later, not bothering to hide the fact that he was seething with so much anger I worried he might try to follow the example of the previous Duke Wymond and murder to get what he wanted.

“Thanks for tossing me alone to the wolves of small talk,” Larkin said when Lady Wymond finally had to go to greet the guests.

I grinned at him. “You’re one of us now,” I said. “This is a party of high society. There is a whole world of boredom and pretensive drivel ahead of you.”

“Aaallk,” Larkin made a disgusted sound. “She was talking to me about the perfumes worn by the great knights of the past, when they slew this or that monster,” Larkin shook his head in disbelief. “Did you know that Arthur had daffodil in his fragrance when he slew the Hag of Pain? Somehow she knew the most boring little details about the most interesting events in history.“

Noreen laughed. “She was probably hoping you’d share your own tales of blood and gore, without appearing too eager.”

Larkin just gave Noreen a bewildered look.

“She’s clearly some sort of knight groupie,” Noreen said.

“So, cologne was her way of trying to lure me into talking about being a knight?” Larkin asked.

“There are worse ways to do it,” Noreen said with a shrug. “Ettins are obsessed with war and it’s a lot to ask them to change their interests. Still, her Father in law was just arrested for trying to bring back the era of knights, so I imagine she doesn’t want to appear too obsessed, just yet.”

“So, you think their obsession with gardens and perfumes is all an act?” I asked in a whisper so the workers wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t know,” Noreen said. “If it is, Stephen is very good at acting, but then, he could be sincere about his desire to reform the Duchy, and his wife could have doubts about this new direction.”

Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Laal and Mrs. B walking into the room and my jaw dropped with surprise. I’d never seen either of them dressed so extravagantly before. Unlike me, who had come in a simple robe, they were wearing incredibly complex dresses, made from multiple types of fabric and fall plants woven together. Amusingly the cats following after Mrs. B were also dressed in fancy outfits and looking not at all happy about it. Laal and Mrs. B waved and hurried over to me. Curtsying awkwardly as the came apparently deciding they’d better treat me like Lady in public, and not realizing that the rules are different when I’m catering an event.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Noreen said.

“I know,” Mrs. B clapped her hands together in rapid excitement, although not loudly. “Isn’t it wonderful. We thought we’d surprise you.”

“I am surprised,” I said. Grinning at two of the cats who’d started wrestling behind Mrs. B.

“Stop it,” Mrs. B told the cat’s sternly. “We are at a fancy place, not my dirt heap. Try to behave like we should be here.”

“Duke Wymond invited us,” Laal said.

Obviously, I thought. They wouldn’t have crashed the place. Although I was tempted to suggest that they could probably blend in well enough to crash a lot of parties. They really had managed to put together some very beautiful dresses.

“I’ve been positively bursting to say something all week,” Mrs. B said. “But Laal said it would be more amusing to surprise.”

“Besides, we didn’t want you to start fussing over how we looked,” Laal said. “We just needed to look pretty.”

“You do look beautiful,” Larkin told them, causing them both to glow.

We didn’t get to chat long before the first guests started filtering towards the table. Prince Therot had come with dozens of fairy and witch followers and his own set of trumpets to mark his arrival.

“Seems a little ostentatious,” Mrs. B whispered to me, her voice dripping with disapproval.

“More obnoxious,” I whispered back. “I dread the day he takes the throne.”

The Prince had started flouncing around the room, with a grim look on his face. He, unlike most fairies, had enough power to keep human form for a long period of time, more than that he chose to be ridiculously tall. At the moment he was nine feet tall, towering over everyone like a gangly monster.  

“What could he possibly be doing?” Laal asked.

Noreen giggled. “I think he’s trying to look tough,” she said. “Remind everyone that he’s the power in this area, or will be once his father kicks it, even if the Duke makes the laws on these lands.”

“He looks like a peacock pretending to be an eagle after finding an unattended glass of champion,” Laal observed.

“He is a peacock pretending to be an eagle,” Larkin told Laal. “He failed to change his family’s treaty with the Wymands, so he went running off to the Council of Britain to get it nullified, claiming the previous Duke’s murder nullified the whole treaty.”

Laal grew very somber. Her business depended on stability in the region. Heck, it had essentially been given to her by Lord Stephen Wymond, it could all easily slip away if the Prince got hold of the land.

“Would the councils approve such a move?” Laal asked Noreen, who tugged at one of her ears thoughtfully.

“Maybe,” Noreen said. “It would be a tough sell, however. The Council of British Nations isn’t impressed by preening and dancing.”

Mrs. B’s eyes widened as if she’d only just realized who we were talking about. She made a small shushing noise. “He is still the prince,” she said quickly.

The prince strode our way, very definitely not realizing how silly he looked. I fought of my scowl. I was working after all, customer always right and all that. I did wonder if I could sneak a curse into some of the food that would make him smell something bad every time he laid down to go to sleep. I smiled at the thought.

I bowed as he came. He stopped at the table and picked up one of my truffles, gave it a sniff, made a disdainful face, then dropped it short of the table so that it rolled on the floor.

“Bilberry and blackberry with Meadowsweet,” he said, his voice dripping with disgust. He looked over the table touching another truffle, then another and another without picking them up. Finally, he  picked up one of the truffles and looked at me.

“Sloe berry and Hazelnut. Your majesty,” I told him my jaw clenching just ever so slightly. He dropped that one like it was poison.

“Why do I get the feeling that whoever made this went out and picked weeds?” he said.

“They were made to celebrate the natural and wild parts of our great country,” I told him.

“The commons,” he said. “Let the peasants eat it. Is there any food?”

Mrs. B and Laal looked thourally aghast and I actually flushed with embarrassment at the thought that this was going to be the first and possibly only impression they had of the leadership of the nation I had my title from. I’d spent years honing my poker face for just such a moment, and yet my fair skin betrayed that I was feeling some emotion. I did my best otherwise, I couldn’t insult my prince at a party like this, even if he was an insufferable twit.

“Whisky truffles, as I know you prefer,” I told him as I directed him to the dark chocolate truffles. “Wild boar that has been long cured to perfection.”

I put together a plate for him. Careful to avoid anything from the commons, except the deer, the hare, and the boar. Apparently if it bled, he figured it was acceptable to get out of the wilderness.

“I was kind of hoping you would slap him,” one of the young aware said before looking down, suddenly realizing what he’d just said.

I smiled at him. He was perhaps eighteen, maybe nineteen and still had one of those earnest young faces like would have been chosen to be the child in a play about The Emperor’s New Clothes a few years before. Mrs. B looked mortified by the statement and for a moment I thought she was going to scold him, but she ended up just nodding. Apparently her first encounter with our ‘esteemed; Prince had drained of her of her power to be irate with young people.

“I think your mixing local plants into high cuisine is brilliant,” he continued. “I have a professor at Tante Marie Culinary Academy who was talking about the importance of local ingredients.”

I blinked at him. Given the way he’d said it, I presumed Tante Marie was an impressive school for cooking in the human world, but I’d never heard of it. Not that that mattered, I was certain whole books existed on the things I didn’t know about the human world.

“Sorry, it’s the best cooking school in Britain,” he said proudly. “I get good grades, but it’s still hard not to use the magical baubles I get from working these events to cheat.”

I wasn’t certain how to respond to his statement, but Noreen jumped in with questions about mundane colleges and schools, and how they might compare to the ones seen on TV. It was interesting listening to him explain how schools worked, but guests had started coming much faster than so the conversation lost most of its flow.

The night was busy, with guests, most of whom I was happy I knew, making their way to the table to chat. Even Earl Ganintallow made an appearance, all be it a brief one. His dogs surrounding him, sniffing at everything and everyone he asked if I could pack the food up for him and his dogs, just in case he got word that a unicorn had been spotted nearby.

During one of my breaks I managed to dance with Larkin. It was only then that I could appreciate how truly spectacular the decorations in the ballroom were. Stephen might be spending money in ways no Duke ever had before but he clearly wasn’t skimping on the dance. I wondered what he was cutting from his budget?

“You’ve gotten so much better,” I told Larkin. “I’m almost not ashamed to be seen dancing with you.”

“I still don’t get why I have to come to almost one of these a week,” Larkin said.

The dance moved us to briefly change partners, allowing me to exchange basic pleasantries with a Pixie baron named Tillinwin. I got the feeling that he’d memorized a few jokes to share with everyone he danced with. They were funny at least so I suppose it wasn’t the worst strategy.

“Being a knight requires people to trust you,” I said.

“Being with you helps get people to trust me,” Larkin said. “He f  urrowed his brow. Sort of. The fey keep threatening bodily harm if I hurt you.”

“Knowing the fey is like having a thousand grandparents,” I said. “But it’s important that they know you beyond just the one who’s dating the chocolatier.”

It was a little after midnight when I felt the crackle of electrical energy building in the air. Someone had released the lighting from a lot of bottles, and it was unlikely to be for anything good.

“Get down,” I screamed to the aware who were working with me.

They looked too stunned by my sudden outburst to move but followed suit when I demonstrated by throwing myself to the floor. I worked with lightning from bottles that Noreen and other Fey would pay in, so I could tell when a spell was being cast using them, and this was a big spell. The glowing lights that twirled round the ceiling burst brighter than a dozen suns. I shut my eyes and pulled my wand out before the first startled screams had died down. I spun the feth fiada, the magical mist, into a shapeless illusion of darkness above me to create a shadow where I was standing, but it was still so bright beyond the shadow of magical mist that I could only make out black shapes in the crowd of panicking people closest to me, or occasional regions of shadow like mine in the distance.

I heard all three of Stephen’s heads roar with pain. Without thinking I bolted in the towards the sound, dodging the confused crowds of people, and trying my best to avoid tripping over chairs. As I ran a few others had started creating their own illusions to block out the light above them making my task slowly easier. By the I’d crossed  the room there were enough umbrellas of feth fiada blocking out the light that I could just make out the form of Stephen laying in a pool of blood, his head slumped and his eyes open but unmoving.

Larkin got there almost as quickly as I did and cast a spell to create a shield around us. I breathed a sigh of relief. It would be far easier to help Stephen, knowing I had someone I could trust standing guard. Larken twirled his wand, creating dozens of colored motes of light that shot off in every direction. Such dramatic spell work as always, I thought. The lights were messengers that would call to the deputies to come and secure the castle. Noreen was there as well, throwing up a magical shield to provide me some protection while I worked.

I pulled the feth fiada down around Stephen and myself to prevent anyone from seeing what I was about to do. My Grandmother Burry had taught me spells to keep the spirit in those who had just died in their bodies, sort of like a magical CPR, it allowed me to revive those who were on the verge of death but hadn’t quite died yet. Gran likely worried that my Grandfather Elric’s illegal activities would get him killed, eventually. Spells like this bordered on the illegal because they required a strong knowledge of forbidden necromancies. They also required a lot of power. Two things I didn’t want anyone to realize I had.

I wove together the complex spells necessary to bring Stephen back. My heart was racing so fast I was surprised I could remember all the steps. The only time I’d tried to do this it hadn’t worked.

All three of Stephen’s heads gasped when I finished the spell, and I pressed a potion to one of the lips, meant to replace the blood he’d lost. This is exactly why robes were useful, so many pockets right there in the long sleeves and one never knew exactly what one would need. Especially at a party like this. There were three people I knew of who would want the new Lord Stephen dead, and for some reason he’d invited every single one of them into a single room.

I dropped the mist, while kneeling beside Stephen, cradling one of his large horned heads in my lap on instinct.

Larkin motioned to the people who’d been serving food with me to come over. Nervously they did, looking back and forth at each other a lot.

“Hurry,” Larkin told them, his normally gentle baritone getting an authoritative bite. They jogged the rest of the way. “I need you to carry him to his chambers,” Larkin told them. “The guards and I will follow close behind to prevent any further attacks.”

Under Larkin’s direction Lord Stephen Wymond was transported back to his chambers before the deputies could arrive. When it was discovered the Stephen had no idea who had attacked him the deputies swarmed through the crowd searching for and confiscating weapons. From the wound it was fairly obvious that the blade used to stab Stephen had been thick, which only narrowed the possible weapons a little. Almost every one of the two thousand guests were armed, and Even Mrs. B carried a wide but short sword in the Roman style. The deputies created an illusionary replica of Stephen’s wounds so they could compare all the weapons to this. It would be nice if that led to the attempted killer, but the weapon had likely been tucked away in some hidden cranny in the confusion. No one who had managed an attack that impressive would be dumb enough to be caught with the blade in hand after having so long to hide it.

I was in Stephen’s room, trying to help comfort his two terrified children, my eyes constantly glancing both at their injured father and the doors and windows for possible intruders. Their mother was emotionally torn between comforting her children and going to check on her wounded husband. Her face had taken on a sort of cold resolve. A small army of Pixie’s had gathered in the room to protect their Duke and his family.

Reeve Shipsy came striding into the room while his deputies finished collecting the weapons. His viper hissed in my direction. She really didn’t like me for some reason.

“Lady Gaveston,” he scowled on seeing me. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“Because Lord Wymond wanted the best food for his party and you know my family makes it,” I responded without missing a beat.

“Heard you were the one by Lord Wymond’s body when the fog cleared,” Reeve Shipsy said, his voice cold but not even close to intimidating. “Come on, I’ll question you in Lord Wymond’s office. If that’s okay with his Lordship.”

The last part likely hadn’t been a question, just an expectation that he would get access to a quite room to question me.

“I prefer that the Lady stay with me,” Stephen said weakly, his wife clutching his hand. “But you can use my office to question anyone else.”

Shipsy stared at Stephen as if he’d just proposed marriage. I was fairly shocked myself. Stephen had essentially refused Shipsy’s right to question me on his lands, so that I could stay beside him.

“Why?” I had to asked.

“You saved me with that potion of yours,” Stephen said. “You’re likely the only one I can fully trust, outside of my wife and the Brownies, and the latter don’t have swords to defend me.”

Shipsy’s surprised turned into the sort of angry glower that gave rise to the slang about steam pouring out of one’s ears.

“My Lord,” Shipsy began. “She associates with known criminals and.”

Stephen waved his hand in a weak but dismissive gesture. Shipsy went ridged and bowed. I felt a smirk coming on and did my best to fight it off. Still, I was rather shocked by Stephen’s insistence that I stay with him. It wasn’t as if Shipsy’s accusation was unusual. Anytime anything happened most law enforcement automatically assumed my involved in one way or another.

“I can make it easy for you Reeve,” Stephen said. “You’re going to want to question Prince Therot, of course, he’s been writing a lot of letters about how displeased he is that I’m alive.”

“I’m sure his majesty is just passionate,” Reeve Shipsy said. “I couldn’t possibly,”

Stephen cut him off again. “If you’re too much of a coward to question him perhaps it is time the Duchy of Wymond invite a new Reeve to oversee the laws on our estate.”

Shipsy’s cheeks turned slightly pink at the suggestion. I had my doubts he would actually conduct an investigation of Prince Therot, but perhaps he could be useful in investigating other potential suspects, thus leaving me to potentially discover the Prince’s involvement on my own.

“What about your cousin and some of your bannermen who don’t like this new direction of yours,” I asked Stephen before telling him about my encounter with the bogle who’d all but threatened his life.

Stephen looked disturbed by the possibility but not surprised. “So many I considered friends could have turned against me the moment I inherited the dutchy. I hate it,” his voice sounded extremely bitter.

I really wasn’t certain how to respond to that. His wife squeezed his hand tighter and put her other hand on one of his shoulders.

“Well Reeve Shipsy,” Lady Wymond said her voice clear and no nonsense. “You have a plethora of suspects to question; you’d best get to it.”

Shipsy bowed and clipped his heals as he left, his snake turning her head back to glare at me as he left. I was so tempted to stick my tongue out at her but decided to remain professional. Stupid professionalism, always getting in the way of my fun.

I stayed for half an hour, reading a book to the two children until their nannie could arrive to take over their care. The Brownies could have watched them, of course, but they tend to mischief when watching children and might have decided to play games of flicking ink on the guard’s uniforms. Even the most serious minded Fey tended to grow goofy around children. They are still essentially children after all.

Stephen sent for guards from the Colt Pixie territories of Hampshire and the Elph’s of York. He claimed that it was because he had lost so many guards in the previous raid, but I suspected that he didn’t entirely trust his own men. Larkin decided he needed to spend the night at Stephen’s manor, likely planning to literally camp outside his chambers with a small army of deputies for what I imagined was the same reason.

My own eyes had started drooping, growing so tired I was tempted to ask to spend the night as well when the unicorn’s song refreshed me as it drifted through Stephen’s open window, lifting my spirits and making me feel as if I’d just had a perfect nap. Even Stephen looked noticeably less pale.

“Noreen’s family and the Gavestons are here to check on their daughter, Lady Winifred Gaveston,” one of the Brownies said after walking into the room.

Noreen’s eyes widened, her expression looking as startled as I felt.

“The Gavestons, as in both my parents? I asked.

“Your Grandparents and one of your uncles are here as well,” the Brownie replied.

I groaned internally. “I’d better go see them,” I said.

“I’d like to meet them as well,” Stephen said. “Send them up.”

“Are you sure?” Lady Wymond said her voice quivering with concern. “Right now, might not be the best time, you should be sleeping.”

“I suppose,” Stephen said. “You should get some rest as well,” Stephen told me before thanking me for my help. We said our goodbyes. I embraced Larkin and left, wondering what my family could have in store for me. I noticed on the way down, how many more stairs the manor had than I’d noticed on the way up. Like a person walking to be sentenced.

The horde that was my family where waiting in the receiving room, surrounded by deputies and Wymond’s guard, both groups that despised me and always made me feel uncomfortable, so they added to my sense of unease. I steeled myself for anything to happen, except for what actually happened. I was swept up into a hug. My heart lurched, as I was torn between a feeling of comfort and the desire to ostrage my head into the wooden floor to avoid the stares of the deputies and Pixies around us.

“Why are you here?” I asked after the hug had gone on for a while.

“We were hearing so many rumors about what happened,” my Mother said.

“I was going to get home in a minute,” I said.

“We couldn’t wait at home while your mother paced a hole in the gorgeous antique carpets?” My Grandmother Gaveston said. “Don’t be silly, some of those carpets are five hundred years old.”

Even though my Grandmother was going for a little bit of levity, I realized that whatever rumors they’d heard had terrified them.

“What did you hear?” I asked.

“A lot of things,” Mother said. “That there was a huge explosion and you’d had to flee the hall covered in blood, that you’d gotten into a fight with the new Duke, leaving him laying on the ground and the deputies were now swarming the place looking for you.

I groaned internally. No wonder they’d been so freaked. “Someone attacked Lord Wymond. I gave him a potion to keep him alive and then helped him get out to his bed.”

“So, the bloodstains on your robes?” Mother asked.

“All his,” I said. “No one was hurt but him, and he’s recovering well, with Larkin standing guard over him.”

Their faces all relaxed and I was swept up into another hug. This time it was just nice, although I was incensed with whoever had terrified my family with rumors. Explosion indeed!