Fair Folk Foul

by Sarah Peters

  Bo shook his head but took us to the front of the farmhouse. He knocked a few times but when that warranted no sounds or movements from inside, I tried to door handle and it clicked open.

  “Aprés-vous, madame et moinseurs.” I gave a majestic bow and gestured towards the open door. Only Tobias gave me a half-entertained glance as he walked past, which I appreciated, although to be fair it wasn’t easy reading emotion off Becca’s current face.

  We took three steps inside the ramshackle farmhouse, dark and smelling of mold, before everything changed.

  Prairie grass spread under our feet and the night sky—sparkling with thousands of stars and the foggy streak of the Milky Way, completely uninterrupted from city lights—stretched vast and impressive overhead. Strings of star-shaped lights had been strung from every available stick, tree, and bush nearby, creating a fantastical, ethereal feeling, mirrored by the old rugs spread across the grass and the distant scent of a late summer thunderstorm.

  Before us, gathered around a large campfire (not quite a bonfire), sat the Court of the Golden Sun.

  Unlike the Court of the Winter Falls, with their weird bark armor and penchant for riding forest animals, these guys were all comfortably seated in an array of chairs (camp chairs and stools, dining chairs, and even a sofa or two), some covered in cozy looking blankets, holding gently steaming mugs in front of their inhuman, fey faces, all of them bizarre and made stranger from the flickering firelight and the dim electrical lighting at their backs.

  In front of the fire sat the Corn King.

  I couldn’t mistake him for anything else—well no, that’s not true. At first, I mistook him for an actual stalk of corn, but then I blinked and thought he was maybe actually a scarecrow, but then he moved and I realized I’d been wrong on both accounts.

  The fire blocked the details, but he sat as rigid and tall as a corn stalk.

  “This way,” Bo murmured, stepping onto the nearest rug. He motioned for us to follow, as if we could POSSIBLY be confused about where to go. All roads (uh, rugs) led to the Corn King.

  A tall girl stood up (she’d been lounging on a loveseat closest to us) and momentarily blocked our approach.

  She was freaking beautiful.

  Her skin was the feathery black of a bird’s, her long, slender neck circled by the distinctive, white striped collar of a loon. Under it, her feathery skin glinted blue before abruptly becoming white over her collarbone. Ok, maybe I was ogling her chest. It was a shockingly lovely chest and she seemed perfectly aware of that fact, based on how she’d forgotten to button the top four buttons of her shirt. I forced my eyes up. Her face was more human than her skin, with a regular mouth and nose (granted that it was still covered in that sleek, soft black-as-feathers skin), but her eyes almost glinted red as they caught the light. A handsome face to fit her handsome body. She could be a model, if it weren’t for the fact that she was very clearly a loon-person.

  “Um, you’re gorgeous,” I said, before I could stop myself.

  She smiled. “Thank you for your kind words, Champion.” Her eyes drifted between the four of us, lingering on Bo for half a second, before grazing of Tobias. “I apologize for my rudeness, but I am bound to remind you the invitation extended to one guest.” She had a deep, pleasant voice. In it, I could just hear the echo of a loon’s call, haunting and beautiful.

  She was looking at me, so I shrugged. I bopped Becca’s shoulder. “It’s rude to drop acorns on people’s heads,” I replied. “But this is my guest.”

  Her head tilted, “My apologies. It seemed the most expedient way to contact you.” Her eyes moved over my shoulder and she smiled. “If not your guest, what is Mr. Monday, then?”

  Ah, so they knew each other. I wondered if this girl went to Silveridge too. She didn’t look too much older than me, and I was pretty sure I’d never met her before.

  “He decided to tag along,” I said, not looking at Tobias. “He and Bountiful Harvest are bffs now.” I stuck my hands together, intertwining my fingers. “Inseparable, really. It’d be cruel to part them.”

  Bo choked.

  “I’m here as representative from the Court of the Winter Falls,” Tobias corrected. His voice had returned to its usual chilly temperature. Hidden black ice underfoot. “My queen has requested I protect the Champion, and so I go where she goes. Especially when she goes to meet the fey.”

  Loongirl never lost her pleasant expression, and I realized she wasn’t being an ass, she was just amiable. Naturally amiable.

  It made me miss Finn. I searched behind Loongirl for a glimpse of my friend but couldn’t spot his distinctive moth-orange hair among the crowd.

  Loongirl shrugged and lifted a palm up, offering us to move along. “Just had to ask,” she explained. “You can take your glamor off, by the way. No humans here, other than the ones we like.” She gave me a cheery wink, at odds with the mournful loon echoes her voice produced.

  I liked her. She was the kind of girl my mother had always hoped I’d become—all polite words and kindly smiles. She seemed like the sort of girl who’d make Jake Wildern fall in love with, just by tossing her glorious hair. But I wasn’t that sort of girl. Instead, I’d grown into an ungrateful degenerate who was stuck on a batboy.

  I glanced over my shoulder at said batboy and offered him my own wink, big n’ cheesy. Good for him to remember I still liked him the best.

  Most of the time.

  “Please don’t be rude,” Becca whispered, her eyes swiveling to the assembled fairies as we walked towards the fire. I recalled she hadn’t seen the Court of the Winter Falls last week—this was her first time seeing so many of the fey in their natural shapes all in one place. Reading books about fairies likely hadn’t fully prepared her for the reality of them. “This place creeps me out.”

  I suspected she was referencing a strangely shaped fairy who sat huddled in a large beach chair, all marmalade colored spindly legs and chittering mandibles, with big, hungry looking teeth.

  “They’re supposed to like me, right?” I asked out of the side of my mouth, giving a woman with apple peels instead of hair a polite smile.

  “I don’t see Finn anywhere,” she whispered in return.

  I grabbed her hand. “We’ll find him. And rescue him. But first,” I added as an important afterthought, mindful of Tobias walking behind us, “we’re going to get your head back.”

  As we got closer to the fire, the knights of the Golden Sun stood up. Unlike their counterparts in the Winter Falls, they wore cloaks of woven milkweed leaves held with sashes of strung prairie flowers. Each had a garland of twisted corn husks around their heads, draped over strange ears, horns, and antlers. Despite the differences in armor, I noticed that they did have one thing in common with the winter court. The Winter Knights had all looked mostly human, but hot. These ones did too. Sure, some of them looked a little wild, but none were misshapen or weird slapped together animal combos, like Anna as an owlbear. Weird.

  They watched as we passed. Not like, creepy mean watching, which is how my little sisters watch home decorating shows, but silent, considering watching, like Meg studying a second piece of cake she’s not sure if she should eat.

  And then we reached the Corn King.

  OMG CORN KING. Like, could I name myself CORN KING?! What a name! Plus… actually Finn’s birth dad?? Possibly Bo's adopted-kidnapper-dad? I wasn't entirely sure how it worked when the fairies switched babies.

  I’d thought he’d be like The Queen of the Winter Falls, only male and summer themed instead of winter, and if not that, like an older, more refined version of Finn, all summer touched by autumn, golden and warm and bright.

  I’d been quite wrong!

  The Queen might be Cruella de Fey, but he was Grumplestiltskin; old and puckered like dried kernels, with hands that rasped like husks when he pushed himself up, and hair as fine and stringy as corn silk. His face was like a craisin, full of lines and all withered up. On his back, gossamer thin wings reminiscent of the tassels on to
p cornstalks shivered.

  Bo pressed a hand over his heart and bowed, but Becca and I stood awkwardly behind him, and presumably Tobias stared icily.

  “My king, may I present Catherine, the chosen Champion of the 7-Year-Sacrifice of the Court of the Winter Falls?” Bo stepped aside.

  The Corn King stared at me with vivid green-black eyes, the only vibrant thing about him. I stared back. Was I supposed to say something?? What did I say to a guy who looked like something that was meant to be grilled up and slathered in butter and salt at the state fair?

  “You have done us a great service,” the Corn King said. His voice reminded me of a summer evening’s breeze, warm from the day and full of mosquitos.

  I opened my mouth to inform him that I didn’t do it as any kind of service to him or his court, but someone kicked the side of my shin. Unclear if it’d been Bo, Tobias, or one of the knights.

  “As such, we would like to reward you.” He lifted a withered hand the color of peat and the ground beneath us shuddered. I jumped back, knocking into Becca who’d had the same thought. The earth burst open, revealing TREASURE. I gaped at the heaping pile of glittering jewelry, gorgeous shoes, luminous and dazzling handbags, shining keys to no doubt glamorous cars, leathery old books, ancient rolled parchments, case upon case of the newest releases of video games, overstuffed bags of high-end makeup, huge, complicated telescopes, and glinting credit cards.

  My eyes widened. Becca’s hand grabbed my arm in delight.

  “Tell us what you want in reward, and we will gladly give it.” His voice creaked like a wooden swing.

  Tobias had been right about it. A big, public demonstration of thanks.

  Oh right, Tobias.

  Our third deal and the best one yet. The thought of his arms around me, mine around his shoulders, flying ACTUALLY FLYING made me bite back a giggle.

  I looked at the king’s hands. There was the ring, small and thin and the color of rusted iron on his pinky finger.

  But oooooomggg those shiny shoes. They were perfect. There was even a pair of galaxy colored sneakers, covered in glitter and absolutely divine. My fingers twitched and I closed my eyes against temptation. It didn’t stop me from recalling the telescopes. I didn’t even need a telescope but how could I not want one?!?!

  No, think about Tobias.

  I opened my eyes and pointed at his ring. “The ring please?”

  “Are you kidding me?!” Becca hissed. “Cat, those books!!!”

  I swallowed but didn’t lower my hand. “The ring please.”

  The Corn King lifted his hand, as if surprised to find a ring on it. He blinked down at it once, before shifting his gaze across his assembled court. “As you like, Champion.” He pulled the ring off his finger and held it out.

  I extended my hand and he dropped it with a plunk. It was warm, almost too hot, but I curled it in my palm and pocketed it next to the acorns.

  “And,” I said awkwardly, when it looked like he was about to say something else. “My friend. Can you return her head to normal?” I nodded towards Becca.

  The Corn King either didn’t hear me or purposely ignored me. With a flourish of his rattling dried hands, the huge pile of treasure sank back into the ground. As a side thought, I wondered if all that stuff just hung out in a hole underground until he needed it. That’s defs where I’d keep my stash of nutso treasure. A random hole. “A gift has been given for a service rendered. Now, join us in our celebration.”

  Ummm wait hold up. I tried to say something, but Bo dragged me back, and the Corn King gave me the cold shoulder. He lifted his leaf-like arms and shouted in a voice as strong as a boom of thunder following the zing of lightning, “Let the celebration commence!”

  The Court of the Golden Sun roared around us, and in seconds the chairs and rugs were cleared, the campfire was built into a raging bonfire, with swinging, noisy music trumpeting from a stage that’d been erected when I wasn’t looking. The number of fairies around us had seemingly tripled, and they crowded merrily around us.

  Wait. What?!

  “But-what about Becca?” I asked the empty space where the Corn King had been a second ago.

  I didn’t get a reply.

  Crap.

  To Dance or To Dance

  The Court of the Golden Sun clung to the last dredges of summer the way a kitten clings to a window screen, claws out and determined to never let go so long as they shall live.

  “They do know it’s like, properly autumn now, don’t they?” I muttered as two fairies, decked in scandalous skirts of twisted cattails and with hair the color of moss approached, draping wreaths of flowers and berries over our heads. They didn’t so much as blink at Becca’s sheep head, but I supposed she was hardly weird to them, considering both had faces reminiscent of mallards.

  “The Corn King has the autumnal vibe at least,” Becca whispered back. “He looks 110% ready to decorate a Thanksgiving centerpiece.”

  “You’d be wise to not insult the king within hearing of his court,” Tobias said, inserting his head between mine and Becca’s. “They may appear harmless, but the Court of the Golden Sun is not to be trifled with.”

  ‘Harmless’ had not been the impression I’d gotten from either court. I eyed him and he shrugged, leaning back. “So you’re here to protect me from them, is that it?”

  “I’m here to win our bet,” he replied with a smile that caught his white teeth in an ominous, distracting way.

  “So you just lied to the Corn King?!” I pretended to be horrified and pressed a hand to my heart. I ignored the fact that I too had, technically, stretched the truth when speaking to the king. “You’re usually so forthright about your wicked motivations, Mr. Monday!”

  He snorted, unimpressed, but pulled me out of the way as a large, boulder shaped fairy tromped past, two enormous kegs balanced on each rocky shoulder.

  “I advise avoiding any food or drink at this party.” His eyes moved from Becca to me. “They may be in a congratulatory mood, but they are under no contract or promise not to mess with you.” His eyes landed on Becca. “Especially you.”

  I recalled the raisin cookies his moms had fed us, and how we’d involuntarily found ourselves in a pool as a result of eating them. I saluted. “Noted.”

  I happened to glance over Tobias’ shoulder, and I made an ungraceful “eh?!” The gross old farmhouse was gone, replaced by a campus of low and wide gleaming silver buildings not far in the distance, each accented with wood and covered in dark, glinting windows. Something about the enormous oak tree in the center of the buildings, positioned on a mound of prairie flowers looked vaguely familiar, but Becca grabbed my arm.

  “Isn’t that the Prairie Sky Spa and Resort?!” (Last summer Becca had worked as a receptionist for a spa downtown and had become an expert in all local spa competitors for reasons known only to her). “That place is expensive!”

  “Won’t they be bothered by our bumpin’ party?” I wondered, before realization hit me. “Wait, does the Court of the Golden Sun own Prairie Sky?!”

  “Among other properties.” Tobias sounded largely disinterested.

  Before I could wonder what other local businesses the fairies of Butterfield owned and operated, like a mafia of secret magical kingpins, two of the knights approached us, smelling as fresh as recently mowed lawns and looking like they stepped out of a Guillermo del Toro movie. “Please,” a knight with sweeping green antlers said, holding out a hand with elongated, elegant fingers, “come and dance. Join our celebration.”

  I glanced at Tobias, but he didn’t try to snatch me away, so I took the offered hand and let myself get pulled towards the bonfire and the stage.